○ Common ○ Rakahi ○ Pailtic ○ Hussian ○
While Freya took liberties with her profession of local drug dealer, she never rested where she dealt. Thus, she chose to settle down in a cozy, simple room provided by the Knight’s Rest Inn and Tavern. When the biqaj first ventured off the boat and into the nearest pub, she’d gathered from the barkeep that this was the most suitable Inn for her. Quiet, out of the way, mindful of the guests… It was exactly what she needed to stay under the radar while she built coin up in her change purse in hopes of getting off this bloody island.
It was now to be her seventh night there and once more, the woman wandered down the steps in a night chemise with her cloak tightly wrapped about her. Thick brunette tresses cascaded overtop fur covered shoulders, the natural curls bouncing with every step she took until Freya was found seated at a table with candles lighting the room.
It truly was cozy, the way everything tied together and the musty smell of oak, spice, and rum enhanced the atmosphere to delve any newcomers deeper into the culture that was the Knight’s Rest in Scalvoris. There was always someone around as well, and though they appeared tired in the late evening/early morning (who could tell, really?), the family that ran the Inn was one of the most welcoming Freya had ever met.
Naomi greeted, her accent thick as she swung into the seat across from the woman. The fire that roared in the main room warmed Freya up to her ears, so she relaxed the grip on her cloak and settled into her seat.
She responded in rakahi. Freya didn’t realize her mistake under the puzzled expression of the server met her eyes and she corrected herself gracelessly. “M-Mornin’.”
“Where’s that from?”
She asked of Freya’s accent.
Pondering how much information she should give, Freya offered a more specific answer. “In Etzos.”
It was a lie, of course. Everything about her in this region was a lie. Well, mostly everything…
“Etzos? I’ve never been there.”
She smiled, “Care ta share a story?”
This, Freya did not expect. The woman was becoming an annoyance Freya would rather have not put up with, “It’s early, I’d rather not rehash old memories.”
Among all her lies, this was one of the only truths because in the forefront of her memories, Wendell was carved like a festering wound in the flesh. She didn’t want to think of him.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean ta burden you. Collecting stories is what I like ta do.”
Naomi corrected, straightening a bit. “Breakfast first, aye?”
Nodding, she didn’t turn her eyes up to watch the server leave. Instead, she kept her hands cupped on the table and looked on with golden eyes at the fire curling up over wooden logs where they sat in the iron grate. The fire reminded her of Caedmi, the Sev’ryn-Biqaj sailor that accompanied her on her previous trips. He had been underhanded and conniving, but his punishment (that was, to travel with Wendell, unpaid) was enough justice to fit his crime of abandonment, she supposed.
Her hand reflexively went to her shoulder where a gnarly scar lay upon the skin there. He’d helped heal her, supplied her with drugs to keep her at ease then put her back together with the Moseke followers. Freya didn’t remember much of that time, but right now, she missed the man.
The fire popped just as Naomi placed a steeping cup of black coffee in front of Freya, causing the woman to jump a bit as Naomi laughed. “Lost in thought, are we?”
Freya sighed blissfully, inhaling the scent of bitter beans before taking a swig. “Mmm…”
Waking up just a bit, she set the cup down and leaned forward. “So, what can you tell me about this place?”
Word Count: 651