The evening runs late for all as the celebration of the return of the missing townsfolk had almost endless energy. But, as with all things it came to an end. As people retreated to their respective homes, Thomas and Redmane were left at the inn. The pair looked at each other and without even one asking the other, they retired upstairs to the same room. Unlike their night in the baths, though, sleep came quickly for both of them.
Redmane found herself engulfed in dreamless sleep ... but as is all to common, simply not enough. Light begins to intrude on her when the sunlight of a new day cuts through the cracks in the window's shutters. Thomas is still sleeping soundlessly where he's curled up against the woman. He's free from clothing save for a small pendant he wears around his neck on a rough leather cord.
The knight lets out a tremendous yawn as she wakes, and then stretches as best she can within confines of the bed. She doesn't move to rouse Thomas immediately, though, enjoying just having him there for the moment. "You've got my scent on you now, you know," she whispers teasingly to him. "That should keep any wolves from flirting with you."
"I'll remember to bathe," Thomas retorts in a sleepy voice and one eye cracks open a moment later. "Smiling suits you, you know. I think these lands are to your liking after all," he mutters.
The woman smiles wider, and runs her fingers over some of Thomas' more ticklish-looking scars. "It's said that a woman wearing naught but a smile is always beautiful," she says, and then asks, "How far is it to the creature's lair?"
Thomas' skin actually twitches a bit from being touched. Thankfully, having just woken keeps him from feeling too ticklish. "If memory serves me and I am gauging distance correctly, it would take a day or so to travel there. It's past the wolf city a ways," he says sleepily and then stifles a yawn. "Of course going near the wolf city is dangerous you know..."
"It is?" Redmane asks, sitting up in bed now and stretching her arms. "Good. I don't won't any allies of the beast sneaking on ahead of us to destroy the lair."
"A few of the lady wolves threatened to kidnap me again," Thomas teases as he stretches out while still laying down. Rolling his wrists and ankles, they both pop. "They actually asked me to stay; said I had the heart of the wild and belonged there," he adds.
"Well, you can thank me for rescuing you then," Redmane quips, and gets out of bed to start getting dressed. "I'll need to stop at the stables and saddle up Rhiannon, stow our gear, and so forth before we leave. Do you have a horse stabled here?" she asks.
"No. I usually travel by foot," Thomas answers as he literally rolls out of the bed and lands on all fours. Somersaulting forward, he comes to his feet holding in pants in his hand. With a high-stepping spin he slips into them and comes to a stop in front of the wash basin. He sweeps up the pitcher of water next to it, then pours the contents in the basin. A quick dunk of his head later, he slicks back his now wet hair.
Laughing, Redmane says, "And I was told that all men put on their trousers one leg at a time."
"That's boring! Plus, in some lands men don't even wear trousers. More like ... short dresses," Thomas says as he pulls on his shirt and starts cinching up the ties. His eyes are already sharp and alert; hard to imagine he was asleep only a few minutes ago. "Sir Bravil mentioned to me you were asking some interesting questions about me last night," he comments.
"Well, I'd like to know more about you, Thomas," Redmane notes, her grin becoming a bit more.. predatory. "That little maneuver of yours could also have ended in a leap from an open window, before some woman's father or husband suddenly caught you."
"It could, couldn't it?" Thomas quips and flashes a toothy grin. "I'm afraid that if you did learn more about me, it would be far less interesting than your imagination seems to be constructing, though," he adds as he collects his few meager possessions and tosses them into a worn travel pack.
Redmane finishes braiding her hair back after she dresses, and gathers her weapons. "I need to pick up my sword at the wall," she notes. "And can you guide the way from horseback at least?"
"More or less. I prefer tracking from the ground, but I can manage," Thomas answers as he hefts his pack up. He glances back towards the bed, then comments, "Well, that's the last warm bed for a while."
"Oh, wherever we bed down will become warm enough, don't worry," Redmane promises, and then goes to the door.
"Are all your kind so hot blooded?" Thomas has to ask as he follows. "It is probably good you did not remain a wolf. I would fear your season..."
"I'm half Jotun," the woman notes, holding the door open for Thomas. "Hot blood is important in the lands of snow and ice."
As Thomas passes by, Redmane gets a swat on her butt. He pauses just outside and asks, "And truthfully no one in the courts has expressed any, ah, interest in you? Not even an invite to a formal dinner?"
"I think the Princess sent me something about.. some sort of event," Redmane notes, and swats Thomas right back as she leaves the room. "Is it up to me to bring an escort of some kind?" she asks.
"Depends on the event," Thomas says. "The only consistency with any courtly event is that they're all extremely dull. Personally, I have a theory they're really intended as a form of interrogative torture. Bore the guests until they'll say anything."
"Hmm, does that actually work?" Redmane asks. "And is there anything you need to tend to before we leave?"
"No. I make it a point to slip in and out of town as quickly as possible," Thomas answers as he heads downstairs. "Makes life easier."
"Perhaps I will be busy that night, then," Redmane notes. She pokes her head into the kitchen to see what's in store for breakfast along the way.
Breakfast doesn't look terribly appealing in this town. It doesn't smell bad ... but the consistency of the gruel in the pot on the stove looks a bit like chunky mud. There are also a few well-cooked sausages sitting out on a plate.
Redmane eyes the sausages, wondering what sort of animal they came from. "Hungry?" she asks Thomas.
"Moderately," Thomas calls back from where he stands. Apparently, he's covering the room expenses from the look of it.
"Well, a quick breakfast won't hurt us then," Redmane notes. "And it will give the spies more time to wake up and prepare to follow us."
"Heh. I haven't had to worry about being followed in a long time. I suppose, though, this time it cannot be avoided," Thomas comments as he walks over to a table near the fire and sits down heavily in it. Remembering Redmane's chair after he already sat down ... he pushes the chair across from him out with his foot.
The knight swings into the seat, and hasn't lost her smile yet. "So, what horrible things do you have planned to 'test' me on this journey, Thomas?" she asks.
"Test? Me?" Thomas says, trying to sound shocked as he lays his hand upon his chest. "Dear me, what have you heard about me?"
They aren't seated for long before the innkeeper, still looking grumpy as ever, comes out and drops two plates of gruel and sausage on the table, along with some worn dining ware.
"Only that you like to push people to see what their limits are," Redmane notes, spearing her sausage with a fork, and then waggling at Thomas a bit.
"Then it's hardly much of a test if I warn you about it ahead of time," Thomas remarks as he picks up a spoon and tastes the gruel. "Well, that reminds me of the the old 'Out Back' porridge," he comments slowly, then sets the spoon down.
"Because you throw it out back instead of eating it?" Redmane asks, and tries some herself after taking a bite of sausage.
"One spoon and you're out back in the outhouse for an hour. Two spoons and you're in it until lunch. Whole bowl and you don't leave for the rest of the day," Thomas says. So ... he opts for eating the sausage instead.
"Perhaps Rhiannon will like it," the woman notes, returning the spoon to the bowl after that small taste.
"Do you miss anyone from your old home?" Thomas asks after he eats for a bit.
"No," Redmane says, quite plainly. "It belonged to another life."
"Not one person? No friends at all?" Thomas continues to ask in between bites.
"None," Redmane insists. "The only thing I truly kept from that past is the weight of my sins."
"There would be some who would tell you the choice of your first friend here was poor," Thomas notes and waves a bit of sausage at her.
"What of it?" Redmane asks, finishing her own sausage. "You are no longer affiliated with any House or faction, so being with you is not a threat to May. And my geas will not allow me long-lasting happiness until I've paid off my debt to Cerridwen. That could take me some time, so best to have a friend who might still be around when I finally fulfill it."
"I'm just saying ... and, well, apologizing for it," Thomas admits with a small shrug. "For any future ... complications. That said it's been ... well, thank you. I don't often feel appreciated for who I am. It's usually for what I can do."
"In that we have much in common," Redmane notes. "And right now, only Sir Bravil know anything about us, and I doubt he is the sort to gossip. We'll have parted ways by the time I reach the Palace of all Seasons anyway."
"He owes me a few favors, so he'll keep it quiet," Thomas comments, grinning. "And he's absolutely trustworthy. A little too stiff sometimes, though."
"Really? I thought all Knights of Mirari were like that," Redmane notes with a grin, leaning back in her chair.
"No, some are just asses like my cousin," Thomas quips with a grin. He peers at his plate, then comments, "I don't feel all that hungry anymore."
"Bring the porridge to the stable," Redmane advises. "Rhiannon might not step on your foot if you bring her food."
"Ah, good, you ride a mare," Thomas comments as he slides back his chair and stands. "Stallions are a pain. In fact there is this one wild one who is the biggest pai ... eh, you don't need to hear me ramble."
"Oh, Rhiannon is a sweetie," Redmane says, grinning as she rises also. "I'm sure you'll get along just fine..."
The stables of Lunafell are oddly quiet. The steeds in residence seem abnormally shy, and the stablehands themselves are a bit jumpy and high-strung. At least they are until Redmane arrives to reclaim her horse, with Thomas in tow. The hands are only too happy to offer her whatever aid is necessary to get her horse out of their stable. Rhiannon has been berthed as far from the other horses as possible, and the wooden planking around her slot is cracked and splintered. Regardless of Redmane's assertion that the horse is a 'sweetie', the draft-sized mare looks the exact opposite of what a knight's steed should be: she's not svelte or streamlined or in any sense noble. She does look like she'd be quite at home trampling things underfoot, though. And enjoying it.
"How've you been, girl?" Redmane asks, rubbing the mare's nose. "Did you miss me?" One big black eye glares at Thomas the whole time.
"I think I'll walk," Thomas comments after he sizes up the rather unpleasant looking steed. Peering at the horse, he asks, "You won't let me near you, will you?"
"Hold your hand out so she can smell you," Redmane advises.
Thomas holds his hand out, palm to the mare so she can't bite his fingers easily.
Rhiannon curls back her lips (revealing what might be canine teeth) and gives Thomas's hand a sniff. This is followed by a loud CRACK as a giant, iron-shod hoof slams down a bare half-inch from Thomas' big toe. "I think she likes you," Redmane claims.
"Ah, I don't think so," Thomas says as he hops back a few feet. "What kind of horse is that?"
Redmane hugs the giant around the neck. "Fomorian blood-mare," she notes. "Usually used for hunting, not riding. But I'm small enough. And she's great at squashing monsters and wading through... well, whatever is in her way, pretty much."
The horse snorts, and flames do not shoot forth from her nostrils, surprisingly.
"And probably hates fey like me," Thomas observes from several feet away. "Isn't that right?" he says directly to the mare.
"She doesn't hate fey," Redmane notes, petting the monstrous horse now. "She's never even swallowed any parts she's bitten off them."
"She just hates men," the knight adds, as she puts the saddle blanket over the mare's back and starts kitting her out for riding.
"That only means she doesn't eat them," Thomas points out. "Now, I might ride a demon, but I'm not so sure about that. Walking doesn't bother me. Really." He pauses for a moment, then asks, "Why does she hate men?"
"Oh, she's a little crazy is all, but most horses are," Redmane explains. "But don't worry, I can tell you've made a good impression on her: you didn't wet yourself when she stomped."
"I've been nearly swallowed by a sea monster, among many other things. A stomp is not going to cause me to wet myself," Thomas points out with a smirk. "Maybe she just needs ... a date or something," he considers, then speaks towards the mare, "So, how about it? I could introduce you to some stallions. Sir Bravil's mount is bigger than you are..."
"She's a sacred horse, too," Redmane notes. "Consecrated to Epona, Goddess of Horses. Practically a princess. I doubt a stallion is up to her standards. And I wouldn't want Bravil's mount.. damaged."
Thomas barks a laugh. "It's good that he isn't here to hear that," the fey comments. "So, perhaps I'll get a head start towards the lair. I'll be sure to leave footprints..."
"No way, you're riding with me," Redmane notes. "I'm not tracking you through the snow and getting lost." She affixes Rhiannon's bridle finally, and begins to lead the horse out of the stable.
"I can leave a trail even you could follow," Thomas comments, once again grinning. "I make it a point to not ride anything that wants to eat me unless I have a way of killing it later..."
"She's a hunting horse, do you really want her on your trail?" Redmane asks, arching an eyebrow. "The safest place is on her back, with me. She won't think you're prey then."
"If she bites me, I'll make sure she meets a few dragons sometime. The kind that can eat her in one bite," Thomas warns and wags a finger at Redmane.
After securing her lance in its special sheath (which lets the tip point out past Rhiannon's chest so the horse can attack with it herself), Redmane leaps up into the saddle and then leans over to offer Thomas a hand up. "I'll protect you, don't worry."
Before extending his hand to her, Thomas asks, "Where is your sword? I cannot be too near iron for extended periods, you know."
"It's pinning the head of the beast to the parapet still," Redmane notes. "And you won't feel the effects while the blade is sheathed. Blessed leather and all that."
"I've had enough experience with iron that I hope not. Some of those old scars are from it," Thomas admits and finally extends his hand up to Redmane. He keeps a wary eye on Rhiannon...
There's a slight breeze as the horse's tail flails, but Rhiannon doesn't try to knock Thomas off or make him slip. She doesn't move her body at all while he mounts. "Just don't ask me where the leather came from," Redmane states.
"Where does the leather come from?" Thomas asks. Telling Thomas to not ask is a sure way to get him to ask, after all. He then tries something dangerous ... he pats Rhiannon's neck tentatively.
The horse grunts, and Redmane guides her towards the city wall. "I don't know where it comes from," the knight admits. "That's why I said not to ask. And I'm quite comfortable not knowing the answer myself."
"Bah, we'll have to work on that. You need to be more inquisitive," Thomas teases as he looks skyward for a moment, trying to orient himself to the time. "Well, except about me. You see, you aren't old enough yet to know about me..."
"I'm still probably older than you, you know," Redmane notes. "But no matter. I'm young enough, I suppose. When we get to the base of the wall, hold tight on the reins while I fetch my sword. I don't want Rhiannon trying to climb up to get to the monster head. She'd ruin it."