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This late at night, the tavern is sparse, to put it nicely. With only two other people around, no one has anything to say about Jester, Beau, and Veth lounging in a booth in their night clothes. Yasha had turned in early, leaving them to carry on for the night.
Outside, a bout of loud screams from a group devolve into drunken laughter. Panic rises up Jester’s spine for a moment before she dismisses the tension.
"What if they saw the roc, you guys? The one that chased us around Xhorhas." Jester giggles. "It just couldn’t stay away cos it missed us so much."
"Ugh, what if it’s another blue dragon?" Veth rolls her eyes.
"What?" Jester’s face falls a bit before she picks it back up.
"Y’know, like from the Happy Fun Ball." Veth puts her hands in front of her mouth, fingers interlocking as if they are rows of teeth. "You killed my brother. Now I’m going to eat you." She punctuates this with a chomping motion.
In Jester’s mind, she hears Thelashas’s teeth scrape loudly against her splintered shield. Sweat itches down the back of her neck as her body remembers being surrounded by flames. A warm hand caresses her arm. She flinches hard enough to jostle her glass of milk. Looking down, her eyes focus enough to see Beau’s hand pull away in time to brace against the table.
"Veth!" Beau hisses.
"What?" Veth says behind her hands.
"Come on. You know…"
The remaining words recede into a muffled haze. Jester struggles to listen to them. She needs something to pull her out of this. Every muscle locks up as her brain visualizes the dragon staring down at her. She’s stuck all over again.
"-er? Jester." Beau’s firm voice cut through the fog.
She blinks once, twice. "Hm?"
"Do you wanna go to our room?"
"Mm-hm."
The worried look on Beau's face softens. "Do I need to carry you?"
Jester’s heart pulses in her throat before she can make another sound, so she settles on a nod.
"Alright, then."
Beau gently pries the glass out of Jester’s death grip and sets it on the table. Strong arms hook under her knees and shoulders, lifting her out of the chair. Jester tucks her head under Beau’s chin.
"I’ve got you." Beau whispers into her hair. "I’m right here."
Jester nods again, nestling closer to the monk. The light swaying as Beau walks upstairs brings a smile to Jester's face. Sinking into the memory once more, there's a faint buzzing in her palms as she touches the pulsing green orb.
She blinks, vision clearing. She’s not alone. The dragon’s dead. And soon, she’ll be under some comfy covers. It’s not until her shoulders relax that she realizes how close they were to her ears.
Beau pushes their door open with her foot and lays Jester on the center of the bed. With steady hands, the tiefling draws the covers up to her chin. Before sitting down, Beau reaches over to the oil lamp on the nightstand. She makes a twisting motion, asking if Jester wants the lights out.
Jester shakes her head. Not yet.
The mattress dips when the monk joins her, gathers the tiefling up in her arms. Soft reassurances are spoken into Jester’s ear. The rumble of Beau’s voice is comforting in a way few things are during moments like these. It grounds her in the present.
Once her body realizes there’s no fight happening, the restless energy fizzles out. It leaves Jester drained, as if she depleted every magical reserve within her. She tries to manage a thanks to Beau, but is so tired she can’t tell if the words made it out. Beau must’ve gotten the idea despite the mumbling, since the last thing Jester feels is a warm peck on the cheek before drifting off to sleep.