You groan, waking up. Ugh, your eyes feel so dry. Peeling your eyelids apart feels gross, and drags with each blink you make.

You roll over, squinting in the dawning light, to find a glass of water and a small potion bottle on your desk. Did you grab those earlier?

Whatever.

You reach out and chug the water down, placing the emptied glass down. A yawn breaches from your mouth as you snuggle back into your warmed covers.

You close your eyes and hum as an arm pulls you closer to its warmth.

The dawn rolls over you as you curl against Bloody Bo-... You pry your eyes open. And sigh. Right. This stranger is still living in your bed, something you've just… accepted for reasoning unknown to you as of now.

Fine, whatever, but you still have to get up.

You remove Bloody Bones' arm from your waist, wiggling your way out of the bed and out onto the cold floor. A shiver rolls up your spine, but you continue forth, padding to your closet.

You're getting low on clothes you can wear. You'll need to get that thread soon.

You glance back at the bed. Still… 'asleep'. If you head downstairs, you'll just have to come back upstairs to write him a note, as well as grab things for your upcoming journey.

A smirk crosses your face as you roll off your clothing. Hehehe!

You change into your clothing quickly, a sense of cheekiness filling your chest as you adjust your shirt after having pulled that off.

Fun.

Having accomplished your silly task avoiding heading downstairs yet, you head about your room, picking and dropping what you might need. Extra clothing, a saw and wood glue for your staff, containers, liquids, food, gold… you should probably leave some gold behind for him. For food and the like. The others might help him, seeing as he's a mess with money, but perhaps coin for emergency might be necessary? He might just use it all again, though… do you need to teach him money? No, just include a budget in the note, section any money you give him. If he doesn't follow that, that'll be his own fault. Oh, but what if the others try and scam him? You'll have to give out word of protection to the others.

Oh, where is your staff? It was here last night, and now it's rolled off someplace again. It- ahah!

No, wait. That's the stick you grabbed for Bloody Bones. Leave that next to his side of the bed and continue on with your search.

The closet. Why is it in the closet? Did he put it in here? No, Bloody Bones was already in bed when you came up. Did he eat last night? He must have, you came home rather late the night before. You'll… have to mentally thank whoever fed him.

Hm. Should you include instructions for your plants in the basement? Usually, you'd hope for the best, but now you've a man who's got nothing else to do. He's also a fae, but…

Oh but what if he takes care of them wrong on purpose? Or he might not head down there at all without incentive.

He'd get bored and decide to explore, right? Or perhaps you should leave something down there to entice him. Coin? No. Books? Can he read? Has he been ignoring your notes so far? Fae don't require written language, but he's accustomed to mortals enough, right? You're over thinking this, why would he care about your books in the first place, he's probably old enough to know everything in them already.

Well.

You do have that , but…. No. Tempting him with that would be a double edged blade.

Coin it is, then, considering you can't think anything else. Obvious and non-intriguing as it is, it works well enough, you suppose.

You scribble your note, sectioning it and hoping that he'd be able to read it, placing it delicately onto his face.

You're about to leave, when you note that his arm seems to be staying where you once laid. Missing you already? How cute.

Then, might as well leave him with a parting gift.

You lift Bloody Bones' arm slowly, leaning further in.

And… There!

Your pillow, now snugly lay in his arm, like that of a teddy bear. Perhaps you should find him one on your travel, to keep him company while you're away.

You snicker at the idea, keeping the thought to consider for later.

But now, it's time to leave.

Do you leave the key with him?

…No, he’s either going to lose it or lock you out, if he even knows what it's for. And you’re tired of having to climb in through windows to get back in.

You tuck the key in your pack, and decide that if anything happens, you’re just going to … to steal it back? Yeah, that or… well you’ll do something.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you take a deep breath in. A murky smell, as always.

Now then. Off you go. Today… might be a good day, you grin to yourself.

When Famor arose that morning, it was… quiet. There was also annoyingly another paper on his face, so he shouldn’t be all that surprised by the silence.

And yet…

…Famor sits up, looking around the room he had been resting at for these few days. It looks a mess. Typical mortal, unable to return things as they were when they came through.

He grunts, shifting himself on the bed, sitting up. Was this going to be every morning he woke here? Cleaning up after you’ve left. Leaving a note on his face? Whatever was your excuse for leaving the room in this disarray?

He glances it over, and… He groans. Leaving for the House of Ballads, a specified plan for spending (which apparently was in the basement. All the effort of heading down the stairs for a small amount of your mortal coins? Hah!), even a list of actions he should take each day. Famor scoffs as he checks over the list a second time. It's not as though he’d be able to follow this, even if he were to stoop so low as your… pet .

He can’t move around that town to participate in your mortal markets, what use is there to head down the stairs? If naught else, he can grow what he needs from your garden downstairs, since he needn’t eat much.

Infact, he’s going to read instead.

He stretches his legs, before moving them off the bed, to-

A stick rattles across the floor from where he kicked it. It was bland looking, and around the size of your staff, lacking only the crystal embedded in it to differentiate it.

He stands fully, leaning against the wall, walking to the stick. Simple thing. Looks as though it was picked off of the ground to be presented to him.

His back creaks slightly as he leans to pick it up. The ends have been sawed off, although one end is slightly charred as though its ashen parts were only mostly carved off of it. A heafty enough weight. Might be useful to club someone with, he supposed. He’d much prefer his blades or magic for attack, but this would do.

He leans back up, this time leaning his weight on the stick. Yes. He’ll accept this peace offering.

Walking with his stick down the stairs- a slow process considering how the stick wasn’t fit to his hand- leads him to find that the ground floor was even worse of a mess than above.

…He heads down the stairs further.

A spider. You have a spider webbing the entrance of your basement.

…He heads back upstairs. He would not be angering the Widow today.

The ground floor holds not much. A door leading to what he assumes is a bathroom, a table and chair with its pair at the counter with a large bowl at the end of it. Strangely, he couldn’t see a kitchen. Most mortals had one in their homes, from what he’d seen, so it felt… strange to see a home without one. Was the counter where you cooked? Or perhaps it was down in the basement with the garden… and the spider.

There’s also a bookshelf, lacking any books as of current due to them being scattered across on the table, counter, and flooring after having slipped off.

No, there was a single book on the shelf. He flicks it open, leaning on his stick in his arm to use both hands. …He closes the book, placing it back and clears his throat for no one to hear.

Looking back at the table, he notes that there are some uncapped bottles of ink, with only one being empty, and another looked to be previously tipped over, hastily wiped of its ink on the table, smearing its contents, and then left at that. Ah, a map. So that’s what you were… no. This was old. Were you copying the map? There were some tools left around as well that he’d heard went with the craft, but leaving them here seemed odd.

A wood bowl clatters, spilling over another once hidden ink jar on the floor, soaking his foot and stick bottom.

The peace offering was not worth this.

He opens the front door and takes in a breath. The smell of growth and life mixed with web and the mortal stench of mortals, ashen and dusty. Annoying, but not overwhelming.

“Oh! Good morning B- …Bloody Bones?” A voice greets him from the side. Ah, the mortal who sold him the bleeding products.

“Mortal.” He nods in polite greeting to the dustling. Her face twists before twitching back into smiling at him.

“So, what plans do you have for the day, seeing as Aidith is out for the week. Going off to the um. The hhHouse of… Lullabies?” She awkwardly end. He raised a brow at the mention of Aidith -the mortal who keeps him captive?- before he snorts at the name change of his once beloved House.

“Yes, the House of… Lullabies. You mortals have the best way with names, choosing and somehow ending on the most apt name for a place.” He smirks, keeping the name in his mind now, for as long as he could. Lullabies. “No. I don’t have any plans for this day that do not involve ignoring the spider and mess in this house. Did you need something of me?”

The mortal slightly frowns, shaking her head no. “No, I um. I wanted to check in on you, since last time didn’t end all that well. Do you… require help removing the spider? When Barten comes back, he could hunt it for you, if you’d like?”

“And anger the Widow? I think not. Worry not, mortal. The lack of access to the basement does not bother me.” He grins, thinking of your face when you came home to find the webbed lowest floor.

“U-uh… All… alright then?” She clears her throat while frowning. “Then, I’m off. I’m going to… to gather some ingredients for tonight. Best of luck to you!” She hurries off across the bridge nearest, quick to leave the fae’s presence.

Strange beings, always in such a hurry.

He wanders through the settlement, small as it was. Taking his time exploring, checking over the well, noting its emptiness. Good.

As for the mortals of this settlement, there aren’t many. Though, he might be mixing them, seeing as he (like all of his kind) is a bit face blind when it came to the mortals, seeing as their energies oft felt the same. Mostly this was due to their everchanging ways, not keeping to singular paths long enough to be remembered for them. He was better at it than his fellow fae, wild or not, due to his capturing of maidens. He would usually avoid taking ones he’d already taken, due to their ‘families’ knowing now wherein he lived due to the return of his captured. Occasionally he’d managed to capture the outcasted, who he might be able to recatch, but most oft they used his stealing of them to garner protection from the others.

The one’s in this settlement he’d seen so far were the woman who sold him items and left, two suspicious men (one with a hat, the other jumped in his presence), a man who resembles that of an… Auroch? (Was that what those were called? Large beasts with horns who ate all the grass at his home before the ettin drove away settlements further.) He was large and snorted at Famor in disproval earlier. With him was a man who’d scowled at Famor, nearly speaking before the other dragged them both away to one of the larger buildings of the settlement. Two women discussed a farm, while a man with two bone earrings followed behind. The women stayed clear of him, while the man ignored his presence all together, lost in thought. Not a very good protector, if that’s what he was meant to be.

Other than those he’d seen, there was that… Barten? He did not appear, but Famor thinks he can remember you and the merchant mentioning him before.

In total, the settlement held roughly around nine mortals. There might have been more, but he thinks that at a minimum, there were nine.

A decent settlement, he supposed. They seemed knowledgeable on the Widow enough that a settlement here at all was enough to raise a brow. Perhaps they had arrived after the Widow had been… chased off by his kidnapper. It matters not, the settlement would turn to dust in the end. Mortals do not stay in places like this for long.

Famor wanders the land, never heading off into the near woods due to the stick in his hands. An annoyance he will rid of the moment he can.

Eventually, he arrives back in front of the house he first started in… perhaps. It did vaguely smell of a not fully mortal stench, but so did the rest of this area.

He could hear… noises inside. The spider had wandered to the upper layers, it seemed.

Famor sighed quietly and opened the door.

Oh. That was not the spider.

You were not having a very good day.

Fae, while ethereal and captivating, are maddening, it turns out. Mortals too, but atleast with this appearance you usually felt on equal ground with them. Fae on the other hand are both too giving and too stingy to you. They offer you so much knowledge even as an unexpected Sagrell joining their ranks and yet. And yet. They try to take this rank they gave you away the moment you showed your mortal side of needing help. Of wanting something for the efforts you'd put in .

It's maddening how… how they ask so much from you without thinking and yet act like they’ll throw you away the moment you arrived back because you asked for a little help because you were feeling a bit weak!

Something to ease your pains and twenty coins to buy some travel supplies while you fulfilled your part in their tales when they asked for it. And they were! Asking you to do something involving a troll and a library and just-...

You were very willing to compromise to just the coins if you had to, but you needed those coins to buy some salt and thread.

Both had been denied, and everyone brought up their grievances about your role as Sagrell again. How unwise it is to let a mortal do this. Someone who’s too weak to handle traveling without being greedy first. Someone who’d never understand fae ways and why these tales needed to be done in the first place.

It had taken quite a lot to not spit right back in their faces.

You know how they dislike salt and you know they’d never give their thread to mortals, not without a fight. You also know that sometimes, some of them were willing to trade with mortals in mortal coins.

You knew these things because you listened to the stories they’d tell you.

How the things they make were tougher than anything woven by mortal hands. How salt had been used to trick and harm them enough to be shied away from. How they despised the mortal need for every action to receive an object. How their tales were filled of not just strength, but cleverness too. You had thought you…

Their grievances had been listened to but ultimately dismissed… but not forgotten, you felt. You’d held your tongue as much as you could, and your reward is that you remain in our role as Sagrell. Nothing else.

You never wanted the role in the first place, but now it seemed to be burning in your eyes with its own salt as you walked back out into the forest.

You’re supposed to be heading off to their library to help them again.

While the curious part of your soul urged you to head straight there, your more wisened part (along with your hurt) had carved you back onto the path to home. It'll take some maneuvering, but you'd be able to scrounge your needs together while checking on your… ward? Patient? Prisoner? …on Bloody Bones before you continued your path. You'd have enough time. You hoped.

The webs and creeping silence welcomed you on your path, though the spider attacks were no more. Annoyingly, however, were the Brownies and the like that decided you would be better off dead. Your clothes and armor tore further, and your mood was following suit every step. The mud soaked into your boot that’d need to be scraped off later. The mortals who’d stop you to ask for help that you’d sigh and go off to deal with. The overwhelming Null and anger that was building against every living thing upon your path that you’d try to avoid but would still somehow find you anyways. Sometimes you’d be given back an old worn object for your troubles, whether from enemy or… mortal payment for favors. More often than not, there was nothing.

And so, when you returned home to find it worse for wear and the town residents whispering, for a moment… you considered ignoring your self imposed rules of morality. To leave everyone with whatever mess they’d made and leave. Just. Leave. From everything.

Instead, you took in a deep, steadying breath, and walked into town.

“I give my greetings to the town that’s gained its perch on my front steps! What brings all of you here? Infront of my home? Stopping my entry to my door?”

“Ah, Aidith…” Beckry looks to you before sighing. “We were discussing what to do. Your fae was fighting with Cartery Jayck. Barten had come in when he’d heard a struggle. Your fae had mentioned a spider, and he assumed the spider had been breaking things. Instead, it was the two them fighting for some reason, and now. Well. Garener wants to kick Him out. Your Fae, I mean. I didn’t want anything to happen while you were out, but… he did attack Cartery.”

You swallow back a groan.

This entire day has been making you feel like you’d like to be less like a living creature capable of dealing with…. any of this and more some sort of beast that was made to dig forever downwards. Deeper, deeper down.

You are pissed. Simple and plainly. No one here could handle a day with a fae who needed a walking stick to be in town. Not Barten. Not Garaner. Not the townsfolk. Not Cartery. And maybe not even Bloody Bones himself.

“ Thanks .” You hiss out and walk deeper into the crowd, where you could now hear Garaner’s words clearly.

“And Where Should We Stay When A Danger Has Walked Itself To Us!? It’s Here In Our Town, Our Homes . We’re Barely Coming Back From The Widow, And-”

“You couldn’t handle him for a day . I left and I’ve returned before dinner and you’re arguing about kicking out my guest while I was gone. Because of a fight in my home .” You stood infront of Garaner, who seemed to deflate every word you spoke. Good. If he’s going to be a coward, he may as well try to avoid increasing your headache.

“A-ah. Aidith, our hero. You’ve returned home.”

“Where is he. Where is Bloody Bones, and where is Cartery? I’ll solve this since it seems none of you can be trusted .” Like usual hangs in your words unspoken, but you can feel them brimming in the back of your throat. Always, always , this town and Garaner himself shove everything onto you, and what they don’t they mess up and shove back into your unwanting hands anyways. Always Always ALWAYS . You are just so- So tired of it . It’s just- just- “So tiring, all of you,” hisses out of you before you clamp your mouth down. The words this time do hang in the air, but… you refuse to take them back.

It's quiet for a moment before Garaner clears his throat.

“Barten has put Cartery in the inn while things are sorted. But currently, Barten’s watching over Bloody Bones in your house.”

“And who’s watching over Cartery?” you scan the crowd. Silence again. “ And who’s watching over Cartery ?” You ask again more forcefully.

When silence continues, you sigh. “ Do not. Do Anything. About Bloody Bones. Until I return. ”

The inn. Is empty. “Cartery has fled,” you say simply as you walk through the crowd again to enter your home.

You’ve made a decision. Whatever messes come because of Cartery, the townsfolk of Canneroc can deal with it themselves.

Your entrance into your home is thankfully less dramatic than everything before it. A strange sight, yes, but seeing Bloody Bones petting a spider while Barten cleans up around the two is atleast less of an aggravating sight than what was happening outside.

“Mortal.” Bloody Bones greets you with a nod that you return.

“I hear you’ve had quite the day. Speaking of, Barten.”

“Hm?” The mentioned man raises his head from scrubbing ink out of the woodwork. Which… honestly, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you normally just let the ink settle into the wood past just wiping it back up.

“Cartery Jayck has fled, and Garaner was attempting another take over. I will be handling Neither. I wish you luck.”

“I-ah… but-hm,” Barten stumbles over his words, looking at the door before he sighs. “Thank you. May I ask what you do plan on doing?”

You stare at the man tiredly before looking at Bloody Bones, barely watching the two of you with only the mildest of interest.

“Well, I’m going to take the unused wheelbarrow that’s gathering dust and carry a fae and spider with me to Saint Eadrics Mission to stay the night while I do some work nearby.”

“I am perfectly capable of walking myself, mortal.”

“Wonderful. The wheelbarrow will be lighter while I push it then.” You’re not quite sure why he’s even agreed to come along, but you’re very glad he’s not fighting you on this. You’re certainly not about to change his mind on it to argue about whether or not it’d be easier to just wheel him around.

Hah. The first thing to have gone right today and it’s from the fae you’ve kidnapped. Thank you, whichever God it is that has decided to give you mercy on this.

“Ah… I… see. Good luck on your journeys, and thank you” Barten nodded, glad to be freed of the fae as much as the rest of the town, so you assume. Or perhaps he’s glad to be rid of the wheelbarrow blocking the path everytime someone got tired of not being able to use their backyard.

Now the town will be able to get the stick out of their ass with the fae gone. Hooray. You nod and watch as he takes his leave before sliding down to the floor when the door shuts. The spider watches from the corner of your eye, dribbling venom onto the floor. Annoying green beast.

Bloody Bones ignores your foolishness and speaks while getting up. “Your mortals are jumpy. Even when I informed them that man had been scowering your belongings, they found me the more distressing one. It would be best to leave now before they reach their turning point.”

“ Oh , they were trying to reach for it outside,” you chuckle bitterly. “I save their town from the Widow and I do favors for them when they ask. But when I ask them to honor one of my own? In one ear, out the other!” Your hand flicks across angrily, smacking away a fly that had decided to try and land on you. The spider takes advantage of its disorientation and eats it quickly. Fine, maybe it was less horrible of a thing than you’d thought. “Had it not been for promises I’ve made, I would have left from anything remotely like a town to live alone in the woods. There are so many interesting beings in this world, and yet they’re all brats .”

Your companion snorts at that (neither agreeing or not with you, causing you to huff for a bit) and continues wandering your home to gather some things. Spider trailing along like the wolves you’ve seen following others sometimes. Usually thieves.

It’s nice to know, atleast, that fae infact do know how to pack for journeys too. Not running off with the bare necessities and a bag of dreams they like to pull out of their asses. Maybe he had to travel often when kidnapping women. You snort at the thought of him packing a picnic for the occasion.

…You’ll be fine without the thread and salt. Probably. Hopefully. Yes, your work often left you unable to return home any time soon and you are in sore need of both things, but you’d manage. You’ve always managed. You were just… upset over feeling like they were. Well. You’d heard the phrase ‘taken advantage of’ in different circumstances, but the way that apprentice had left the apothecary definitely resonated with you. Yes, the House of Ballads was giving you knowledge in return, but tales and words don’t feed you. Didn’t pay you. From what you understand, resources are getting scarcer due to the Tuatha, even this far from the front. Everyone has so little to give and little to get from buying whatever you could sell. Everyone was in need and few had enough to give. But you’d made a promise to give. A promise to those who’d given you so much. To those who’d woke you back from death, even as they were falling themselves. To those who’d told you tales of heroes and asked that you’d hold those ideals, for their sake. It was the first time you’d felt guilt, and it had resonated with you strongly.

…You were also upset over the House’s words, accusing you of not learning from them when they talked. That… it felt like all of your hard work was being shot down.

……….You really don’t want to, but you feel you should apologize to Garaner, and perhaps the rest of the town. Barten as well. You’re still not going to look for Cartery for them. You might help with the mess if he comes back to town, but not much else. You’d taken your anger out at everyone today and that had resulted in nothing but making you angrier. And yet, this fae is once again the one to calm you, as unintentional as it probably was for him. Quiet. Not part of the problem, but still listened to you, while going out of his way to get ready. Though you may not be inclined to start liking his eight legged follower any time soon, you think… you think you may enjoy having company on this journey.

“…Are you really going to be fine with walking? I was not making a jest when I offered using the wheelbarrow to carry you.”

Bloody Bones scoffs quietly at your worries, shaking his head. “I fought a thief, I can handle a walk. You will not be carrying me during this travel, so far as it can be helped.”

You snort, before considering. “Ah. That’s right. How exactly did that fight go?”

Bloody Bones whirls on you, staring down at you with a tight frown that startles the spider by his side. “ Mortal . Do Not Test Me, simply because you are in a bad mood. You are in no position to question my abilities when they are as such because of you .” He leans further on his cane to glare down at you on the floor, causing you to wince.

“Wait, I… I had not intended that in the manner it came out. I was asking you genuinely, for I am uncertain how travel will go while you are healing. Or… No, I suppose that is a question of your abilities. I just… I wasn’t meaning to rub any salt into your wounds about your fight. I’d only heard that Barten had stopped the fight, not how it proceeded before his arrival.” You sigh, embarrassed at how your words had gone so wrong so easily, but continue on to try appealing to his apparently wounded ego. “I know that had Sir Farrara not taken that blow, I would not be having this conversation with you today, or I’d be in need of that potion instead of you. And I’m uncertain how that’d work, considering- well. Considering things.” You lick your lips, avoiding talking of the potion further. It. Well. It probably wouldn’t have worked on you at all, and if it had…

A shiver runs through you, that you quickly shake off.

“What I mean to say is that once the potion’s side effects wear off from you, I know that you’ll be perfectly fine. I’m just worried over this current moment.”

Bloody stares at you for a moment before sighing and letting his guard lower again. Strangely, even his hair seemed to be less… tightened? Pointy? It seemed softer now, which was a strange thing to think about fae hair. Honestly, they never style it any different, not even adding flowers in their hair. Any vanity they had just… did not include their hair, you suppose.

He speaks again from dried lips, slowly, as though the words were dragging across stone and not from his mouth. “I am… still healing from your potion, yes. This one proved quite helpful in fight as I had grown weary. I will take her with at my leave,” He gestures to the drooling spider now curled in front of your chair, seemingly tired of following the fae as he moved back and forth. The man was meant to be healing and yet here he was, busy as a bee.

Strangely, the last words he spoke almost seemed to echo, like when he had made the promise to keep with you during this… bleeding .

“Very well. Thank you for packing, by the way. I needed a moment to… gather myself. And. I believe I need another moment to apologize to the townsfolk for being harsh.”

“Harsh?” He raised a brow. “Is it harsh to be angry over my treatment?” His voice edging with something that had you blink.

“No, I… Your treatment was wrong. I will not apologize for being angry with them in the first place, but I feel I should apologize for insulting them as well. I knew that they were on edge from the Widow, but I’d brought you… You in particular back anyways without warning and expected them to not be weary… not as weary as they had been. I am still angry, both at them and the House of Ballads, but one did not deserve insult because I am angry at the other.”

Bloody Bones hums, unconvinced, but nods you away anyways. Part of you twitches at him not commenting on the mention of the House of Ballads, worried perhaps, but you part from your home anyways to make your apology.

…

Saint Eadrics is a lot further than you’d thought. Alone, it’d have taken you maybe an hour on foot to get there. Currently, it was slowly starting to get into the time you’d be fast asleep as you kept pace with your stubborn companion. Whom while you are grateful for the company, has still caused you to stay awake far further than you’d prefer after a long day. Especially when it would go much faster had you been moving him via wheelbarrow. The spider, thankfully, was less of a stubborn creature, staying in the barrow while you walked. Mostly. It kept getting out at times to nudge itself into you or your fae companion, sometimes to warn of an upcoming fight, sometimes for… no discernable reason at all. It was draining, and you never were a fan of spiders in the first place, so to keep from yelling at it you’d ignored the creature to speak with Bloody Bones.

“And you’re saying Lore stones are purposefully spread in parts? Why?”

“For many reasons. I would say that none of it concerns you, but your work as Sagrell will most likely put you infront of many of them anyways. Part is to avoid them taking energy from eachother, making them unlistenable to any who’d try. Scratchy at first, until eventually they’d lay uselessly, having taken too much from eachother to remain working. The other is to spread the tale, due to the fae needing to listen to them often being on travel and unable to listen at one area for too long. You perhaps would find this most prevalent, had you been able to listen to them, but being mortal, you cannot.”

“Really? Mortals can’t listen to them? I’ve always been able to- stop that you little beast - I’ve always been able to hear them. I assumed that was normal, since I’ve heard mortals record their own tales on the stones as well.”

“What?”

“In Odarth. Most of the lore stones there had mortals speaking. Mostly women too, from what I remember. One of them was gossip involving a liar and a chicken. Another, a woman glad to be free of her husband in death. Another, A man worrying over whether or not to tell his family about his impending death. I assumed if they could record those, they were able to hear from them too.”

“Hm.” Bloody Bones leaves it at that. The two of you walked further (your eyes drooping further and further) until you passed a series of caves.

“The troll Nix stays near here.”

You blink, looking the caves over. Yes, they could infact hold a troll easily. You’d probably have to flee with your companions in the barrow if the troll did come out to meet the three of you.

“Trolls have names?” You inquire instead, idly and admittedly barely out of curiosity and more a need to keep awake.

“They’re fae, same as I .” You can’t see his face, but you get the feeling he’s annoyed with something you’ve said.

“They never speak with me, nor others of any fae type. I assumed they were likened to the other wild fae, just a little less social than most. Not social enough for names, at the least.” Bloody stops.

“All fae communicate. Not with mortals, and not always for peace, but all communicate. All are… social .”

“Oh… I see.” No wonder the sprites attack with such vitriol. Still, you shall continue to bad mouth them. They’re all rotted bastards, and it works well as a taunt.

And so the walk quiets again. Dawn rose, and finally you were on the steps of the mission. You knock upon the mission doors, secretly grateful.

Out peaks one of the monks.

“Hi. I’ve work to do in the area, but I, my companion, and … pet are in need of a place to stay the night to sleep. Would you be willing to host us for a night or two?”

The monk opens the door further to look at your companions, gasping at the sight of the spider.

Time for bribery.

“We’d brought this barrow to carry them, but it turns out we’d needn’t of it at all. Perhaps the mission would need it instead?” You ask lightly, as though you didn’t know of every mission’s need of barrows. Always breaking or being left behind after fleeing from the forest’s inhabitants. On one occasion you’d found one partially eaten. Along with supplies, but the barrow had been the important part to you, due to the supplies now being… unusable.

“Oh, yes, we… Is that truly a tamed spider? How did you manage that?”

Oh. “Um.” You glance back to Bloody Bones. He in turn raises a brow, apparently choosing this moment to be obstinate. Hm. “Well…” you draw out, uncertain why he’d keep it secret, “You would need to ask my companion of that. Once you’d let us stay, of course.”

“OH! Yes, I- we . Um. Yes. We can let he and the spider stay. We cannot allow you to stay the night, due to… um.” He glances you over and you sigh internally, ignoring the unspoken reason.

“Understood,” you reply dryly.

“Apologies,” he bows his head awkwardly. “…May I know the names of you and your companions?”

“I am Aidith, and these two are…” oh. Yes, right, you can’t bully a monk into letting Bloody Bones to stay, can you.

“Famor. The spider is Lette.” Famor?

You glance at him, leaning more and more onto the stick you’d given him. Now would not be the time to ask if that was his name or a fake he’d acquired for travel. Either way, surprising. “Aidith, Famor, and Lette. Thank you for allowing safe stay until my return, Brother…”

“Brother Holt.”

“Brother Holt. Thank you. I will return in two days at the latest. Good bye you three,” you nod, receiving a wave from the monk and nothing from the other two. Perhaps you can sleep in the troll Nix’s cave without disturbing the fae.

“So. Your spider-”

“Do not touch her. She is still skittish of mortals.”

“Ah, I see,” the mortal pulls back, disappointment painting his face before he shakes it off. Ungrateful that he’d been stopped from making the mistake that would leave him with one less limb had Famor allowed him to continue his plan. While normally, he would not care to stop a mortal from learning such a lesson, his body had tired from the journey and he had deemed it best to not anger anyone tonight.

“Do you have a cot we may rest in?” His impatience was starting to drip off of him, seeping into his words as he stared down the inattentive mortal who’d been focusing again on the spider at his foot.

The mortal didn’t seem to notice his tone, however.

“A cot? We do, this way, but… I thought fae did not need sleep?”

“We don’t. We meditate. I follow the mortal method of laying to heal easier,” he clips. He needn’t mention why he started the practice in the first place, nor anything at all for the mortal. As was once told to Famor himself, it was ‘none of his business’.

“Oh, interesting…” the dustling drifted off as it was clear it was not infact of any interest to him. Into a building they walked until they stopped at one of three cots in the room. “This is where I sleep. You can… meditate here for the night. Day, since it is morning now. I’ll be back later with questions to ask later, as I’ve-” the mortal stops himself, rubbing his beard before shaking himself out of thought. “I’ll return with food later as well, for you and your spider. It’s quite well trained you know, not scratching the floor-”

“ Good night Mortal.”

“Ah… Good night.”

And Famor was finally alone from mortals. The other monks left for their worship and daily chores and such. He never paid much mind to them, only listening when a maiden would speak of them and their work. He’d once been so curious once his anger had finally ebbed. And then he grew tired and gave in. And now he lays here on a cot in a place of worship he’d never follow with a spider chittering upon his legs.

And for some reason, his mind would not stop wandering and remembering, focusing on the first time he’d laid with another. When he had been younger, he would sit next to his captives to watch their sleep with curious eyes. This was a normal occurrence until one maiden had yelled at him for it, calling it creepy and warying. She’d most likely not meant for him to sleep next to her, but she had made him curious. He could not sleep, but it had been an interesting experience.

It was… regrettable how he had ruined that… friendship.

He sighs and focuses on the noises Lotte made instead, hoping some noise of nature would ease his mind to meditation.

While caves are gross and annoying, they’re at least safer than napping outside. Sometimes. And yes, you probably shouldn’t have decided to rest in the cave Bloody- Famor? - Bloody told you held a troll. It's yet to bite you, literally or otherwise, due to most creatures staying away from the nest (…resting spot?) of the troll. Nix. That was the troll’s name, right? It’s still surprising to learn there’s less of a difference between the wild and non wild fae than you’d thought.

Perhaps you’d be able to convince Nix to let you stay the night. Day. The short nap before the timed trap you’d set would wake you.

Well, you’d only resort to that if Nix found you in the crevice you’d wiggled into. For now, you were just going to rest your eyes on your pack and… rest… for a moment.

Two sets of eyes finally closed. Both drifted off to sleep, alone for the first night since the change in fate had occurred.

Images flashed in their heads, loud, unwanted. Filled with pain, and yet somehow left them freezing. Light. Death. Rebirths. Battle.

Their first night apart is a fitful one for both that would leave an impression in their minds for different reasons.

But now, before they woke, they slept.

And I might request that of you too.