Chapter Text
“Ugh,” groaned Sebille, her hand rising to flick a speck of blood off her cheek from her latest…hunt. The corpse of the magister collapsed, meeting the grass with a dull thud. “Disgusting human.”
She rolled her eyes then as her ears twitched, whimpers from behind almost giving away their position if it weren’t for her companion’s quick thinking. Cat-like eyes glanced to where Lohse now kneeled to be eye-level with the cowering child.
“She meant that mean ole’ magister, sweetie.” Blue eyes then met hers, playfully brief, before they returned to the snot-nosed brat they had just saved. “She won’t admit it but deep down she’s a softie.”
The former slave hissed, passing by the mage and bumping her shoulder purposely. “No, I am not.”
“For the good humans, then. Also, for one dwarf and for one un- anyhoo! You’re safe now kiddo.” There was another roll of her eyes at Lohse’s near slip. A huff slipped past her lips as she cleaned her blade. Pained she was to admit though, one ear strained to continue to listen to the singer who laughed while she made a flourish with her hands.
Magic. A tool that was used to enslave her. To leash her. Yet Sebille cannot fathom why she stood and watched – enchanted as the brat – as Lohse used it to make a small cat sculpture.
“Careful now, don’t know how long that’ll last.” A murmur, soft like…a pillow. Sebille scrunched her nose, bothered by the comparison her mind conjured yet quickly dispelled that thought. The brat at least stopped crying and after – ugh, an exchange of affection – the embrace, the mage, and rogue were finally left alone in this breezy night.
Lohse continued to stare in the direction where the boy left, Sebille observed. The bard’s smile, despite shrouded by the shadows of her cowl, was still visible.
With a groan, the dark-haired elf pulled at the redhead’s hood – allowing red locks to fall freely in waves – and started making their way to the Black Bull Tavern. She needed a drink.
“Oi, easy with the goods love,” and Sebille could do nothing but roll her eyes once more at the apparent jester.
“I would not be so rough if you did not delay us.” They set a steady pace, walking upon graveled paths unbothered. Few people were out and about at this time sans the occasional patrolling magister. They did their best to be less conspicuous – even with their cloaked attires – but when she caught a whiff of a heady faint scent of booze from the magister they had passed, it allowed Sebille to relax somewhat.
Lohse scratched at her nose, while her lips fought to contain a smile – to Sebille, the tell-tale sign of another joke she just conjured – yet the mystic surprisingly seemed to decline to utter it for the time being.
The elf let go of her hood, allowing the bard the chance to speak. “Sylvia and Beast don’t seem like the types to care about punctuality though. And sides, with the magisters crawling around and word getting out on Alexander kicking the bucket, it’s better we don’t travel in fours all the time.”
“A suitable and sound arrangement,” grunted Sebille before she raised a hand to signal stop once she caught sight of a wagon rolling by. The women held their breath, only releasing it when the vehicle and its occupants paid them no mind. The elf continued, “though your penchant for heroics will make it more difficult for us to remain incognito.”
Relief soon seeped into her weary body once she saw the tavern further down. It allowed for a focusing point while beside her, the singer pouted and crossed her arms. “We have the power to help, Sebille. It’s only right we do something when we…can do something.”
“Eloquently put,” drawled the taller of the two, “shall I don a cape and a mask too while I am at it?”
The sarcastic response though, seemed to have motivated the redhead instead when Sebille spotted that smirk.
It was that same smirk the bard had worn when Lohse and she went out of their way to save a chicken egg earlier. That same smirk was also present when the bard caught Sebille giving scratches to a saddened dog at Fort Joy. Never mind how one particular smirk took a while to wear off that time she had kept a black cat safe from harm.
And it was frustratingly captivating.
“We ought to give you a heroic nickname first. How does ‘The Animal Avenger’ sound to you?”
“Ugh,” the groan escaped her lips before she could muffle it, but the barren street they were in could not react, only the redhead who began to giggle. Light laughter accompanied the crickets and subtle noise of merchants by the square of this evening.
Sebille grumbled. Months ago, she would not tolerate such amusement at her expense, but the days and nights spent and allied with this group – with her – had…
No, I refuse to believe it. She shook her head. Relief embraced her entirely as they approached the tavern doors.
“Sebille,” soft and lilting, with tinges of an accent and a singer’s grace, stopped the elf from moving. She turned, her confusion palpable before she stiffened at the other’s expression.
With the hood no longer covering her visage, Lohse’s smile was more visible. Clear and radiant, despite the meager light from the lanterns nearby. It was enough to make something in the elf’s chest squeeze.
“What?” Sebille managed to ask without her voice wavering. “We cannot afford more delays, Human.”
Blue eyes blinked from their staring, before their redheaded owner grinned sheepishly. Lohse’s hand raised to rub at her neck. “Right, sorry. I just wanted to say a quick thank you. You know, for helping me save that kid.”
It was so disturbingly sincere.
Sebille’s hands clenched, banishing that thought. “I-I…whatever. It at least gave my daggers something to kill.”
“Then thank you as well, Sebille’s daggers.” That jester. Another groan escaped her, but this time a small smile unknowingly came upon the elf’s lips.
And then the door swung open, with Beast’s booming voice startling both women. “There ye are lassies! Lohse, specifically.” He pulled the mage inside, who squeaked in surprise, but the dwarf immediately let go as he pointed at the bar. “Your friend’s three sheets to the wind as it is waiting for you. Idiot but ballsy lass has been challenging patron after patron to a drinking challenge since we got here.”
“Oh boy,” muttered the redhead. “Thank you, Beast. I’ll take it from here.” She patted his head, before marching tiredly to the lizard. Sebille observed the exchange, raising a brow at the blue lizard slurping enthusiastically at their mug. Then it clicked, urging another groan from the elf as their esteemed companion have shapeshifted again.
But of all forms, why wasn’t it one of the more common ones that could easily blend in a town filled with more dwarves and humans?
Sebille shook her head, taking one of the vacant tables, and then raised it at the chuckle from the dwarf.
He sat beside her, a smile tugging at his lips, before he muttered, “You know it’s not too late to go alone from here on in.”
She understood it was said more of a joke, but it was also a good point. Though as the thought of leaving immediately crossed her mind, it oddly felt…wrong to even mull such an idea. “Why are you staying then?” she asked, more to deflect and give herself time to process the statement.
And her sudden conflict of that notion.
Beast raised a brow at her, scrutinizing. She glared back, not taking kindly to being dissected. Her body unconsciously moved away, establishing more space between them.
He seemed to find what he was looking for though because he shrugged. “Initially began as a deal between two warriors. Made sense at that time, and the lass proved alright and trustworthy. Lohse, too, in a way. Concerned with that demon thing though but I figured, why not stick around to help? Can’t stir a ship by me self as the saying goes.”
Then he gave another shrug before he took a mug of ale from a passing server, tossing a coin to their hand in thanks. He continued, “Sides, they’ve grown on me. Even you, whether you can believe it,” he pointed his drink at her. Sebille huffed only in response.
He shrugged again with that easygoing nature of his. “Might even make sailors out of the lot of you yet.”
Sebille scrunched her nose, ears twitching at the loud belch from their ‘lizard’ companion followed by a rambunctious “Fucking suck it, Brax!” that had her wincing. “One of us has… the mouth for it, at least.”
Beast chortled, smacking a meaty hand to her shoulder before he raised it in defense at the glare and growl. The glint of the dagger accompanied that threatening sound, but the elder man merely nodded in apology.
He then eyed over her shoulder. Sebille’s ears twitched once more before sheathing the weapon when she heard the hitches of breath. Magisters.
“Don’t turn, keep your eyes on me,” Beast muttered. Soft, like Lohse’s but then…different. More of a blanket than a pillow.
Soft like what I have been for these past months.
That revelation immediately caused Sebille to clench her fists into a ball. Her sharp nails drew blood at the sudden movement. Beast’s quick thinking of putting a table napkin under her bloodied hand was the only reason why no drop met the wooden bench.
He then passed her another clean cloth, while he initiated conversation with a drunk who wandered to their side. The burly mercenary’s size was big enough to cover the cloaked elf from the magisters’ view.
The tension from her musings though would not abate until she forced herself to calm. Sebille’s eyes scanned around, the meat shield at least allowed her to gaze at the bar table freely. Yet she kept one ear out for any signs of movement from the two magisters.
Deep in their cups they are though. I doubt they will notice anything, concluded the elf when the heady scent of booze once again permeated behind her. When she chanced a glance from her peripheral vision, she noted with a grimace that the two magisters seemed to be more engrossed with each other’s smalls now more than anything.
A hand placed a steaming bowl of vegetable stew in front of her and Sebille looked up in surprise to find another elf.
“I did not order anything,” she snapped. Beast coughed into his hand, sounding suspiciously like ‘manners’ that also doubled to mean as ‘keep a low profile.’ And she supposed antagonizing the locals counted as the opposite of that.
She knew she was glaring and no doubt her body language conveyed nothing but aggression, but few could ever be in her proximity without her sensing them. This elf had managed to do so, and she didn’t like it.
“Paid for by the redhead,” groused her kin. Then she walked away and Sebille cursed Lohse for being the reason she couldn’t focus on the suspicious elf, as her eyes unwittingly found sky blue orbs which glinted in acknowledgement and cheer when they made contact. A smile inevitably followed, despite the mage having an armful now of an unconscious blue lizard who seemed to have lost this final round of drinking.
And Sebille knew there and then, unable to deny it any longer, that she had indeed gone soft when she smiled back at Lohse.