Chapter Text
It was after a few weeks on the road that Zara really started to pay attention to her.
Rosie smelled of spring, like soil steeped in snow melt and flowering trees and sun-dried moss. Zara found it maddening. Fresh freckles spattered across long-faded ones; kisses from the sun on skin that was never really supposed to see it. The way her smile was just a little crooked, the way she had crow’s feet and deep dimples and smile lines even though she was still young. How she had those doe eyes even when she thought nobody was looking, how it wasn’t an act. She was infuriating, and Zara couldn’t help but notice her.
Zara was swilling her mead in the distorted reflection of the tap handle in front of her. The tavern was bustling; it was usually busy that time of night anyhow — just past suppertime — but they were also parked in a town, so it was packed. She had abandoned the group and was sitting at the far end of the bar sandwiched between the wall and a spirited dragonborn gentleman, and she was moping with a frankly unmatched severity.
Even through the noise of the crowded dining room, she could hear Knowles and Rosie’s strident laughter. Rosie’s giggles reverberated in her head. A sweet sound. Zara shook out her head and buried her face in her hands, banging her forehead gently against the heels of her palms.
This is so stupid.
She swiveled around in her stool and watched the group through the crowd. Rosie, Knowles, and Castor were shooting dice while Tode looked on with interest. Knowles had a small fortune of copper coins on the table in front of them and the other two only had a few coins each, apparently losing sorely. One of the dice rolled onto the floor, Rosie scrambled under the table after it, and Castor assumed a deeply troubled expression when she shrieked with joy and slammed it down onto the table.
Butterflies.
Zara took one last swig and called Tessa over, “Can I get another mead, a stout, a barley wine, a house special—” she looked over her shoulder and sighed, “and a Green Wine? If you have it.”
“Sure, dear,” Tessa threw the bar mop she’d been using over her shoulder, “That’ll be a minute.”
“Take your time,” Zara waved her away and fixed her attention back on the table. Castor was animatedly protesting something, Knowles was reclined back in their seat with their arms crossed, Tode had busied himself with a moth on the window sill, and Rosie…
Rosie was nowhere to be found. Zara got to her feet and stood on her toes to scan the tavern, but she couldn’t see her anywhere. She ran her tongue along the outside of her teeth and cursed under her breath.
Damned rogues.
Zara chewed on her bottom lip and leaned back against the bar as Tessa slid the stout onto the counter, “Are you alright, dear? You seem….”
“I’m fine, Miss Tessa,” she turned around to face Tessa and offered a tight-lipped smile, “But thank you.”
“Whatever you say,” she sat the mead and the barley beside the stout, “I’ll be right back with that special.”
Zara smiled again and pulled a bit of money out of the satchel at her side, dropping the coins onto the counter and clacking them together as she waited for the last couple drinks. Something was carved into the wood where her fingertips grazed the butcher block as she tinkered with her money; she pushed the coins aside to see "A+T” crudely engraved, enclosed in a heart, and well faded after a presumably long time. She rolled her eyes and cradled her jaw in her hand.
Ew.
“Are those for us?” as if out of nowhere, Rosie appeared just over her shoulder.
“Gods, Rosie!” she jumped. She cursed through gritted teeth and rubbed her brow bone with her thumb and middle finger. Pushing down her frustration, she looked Rosie up-and-down and muttered, “I hate that.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Rosie squeezed between Zara and the dragonborn and smiled apologetically, “Actually, yes I did. Extra sorry!”
Rosie nudged her with her elbow and Zara tried to resist the urge to flinch away from her touch. She suppressed the warmth rising in her skin at the various points of contact between the two of them, the fluttering in her chest when Rosie pushed her forearm against hers and knocked the backs of their hands together, the comfort she found in that sweet earthy scent. It was like she was taunting her. This was so much easier when I didn’t care.
Rosie stood on her toes and pulled the mead towards the edge of the counter, tipping it towards her face and then recoiling when the smell hit her. She scrunched up her nose and shook her head decisively, “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”
“You’d think someone like you would like sweet alcohol,” Zara tried to ignore the fire in her cheeks, “Anyway, you drink fermented fungus juice. I don’t want to hear it.”
As if on cue, Tessa sat the last two drinks in front of the girls. One of them a fizzy, verdant green liquid in a brandy glass.
“Want to split the cost?” Rosie was reaching into one of her many pockets as Zara slid her money across the counter.
“I got it,” Zara said reflexively, more forcefully than she’d intended. The two of them collected their drinks and walked back to the table. Rosie was always just a few steps ahead, holding the drinks steady despite her quick and bouncy movements. Thieves.
“Zara! Rosie!” Castor waved them over.
“Done brooding?” Knowles tipped back in their chair and gave Zara a teasing smile as she brushed past them, “All tall, dark, and mysterious over there.”
“You guys bought us drinks!” Tode exclaimed. He dragged the proportionally enormous glass of barley wine into the space in front of him and loudly slurped the froth at its brim, some of the foam finding purchase in the woolly white mustache above his top lip, and gave a satisfied,"Mmmm.”
"Zara bought us drinks,” Rosie said in a sing-songy voice, “Because we’re her friends.”
Zara’s stomach turned.
Friends.
“Don’t get used to it,” she grumbled.
“We’re playing street dice—” Knowles started, but was interrupted by Castor throwing his hands up in surrender.
"They’re playing street dice. I’m out.”
Knowles rolled their eyes at him and directed their attention back to Zara, “Want to join?”
“Gods, no. I’m not betting against you.”
“Smart!” Knowles cut a glance at Rosie, “Rosie does not possess the same restraint.”
Rosie stuck her tongue out at Knowles and they laughed.
“Cocky much?” Zara scoffed.
“Thank you, Zara!” Rosie gestured dramatically, “And it’s not like I’ve lost to you every time.”
“The odds of you losing every time are very low.” Knowles flipped a coin, “That would actually be impressive.”
“You are insufferable!” she laughed.
Rosie and Knowles bantered while Zara zoned out. She ran her finger around the rim of her glass while gazing out the window, the blackness of night cut through by the bright reflection of the tavern’s interior. She made eye contact with herself and took a long drink, swishing the mead around in her mouth before swallowing, and then her eyes drifted over to Rosie’s reflection.
The windows were smudgy and the light reflected in them was bleary and almost magical. There was a halo of gold light blurring with the edges of Rosie’s face, which was split into a wide grin, and she looked absolutely radiant. Her curly silver hair and her stubby horns and her sparkling grey eyes. Looking at her was like looking into the sun. Zara’s heartbeat accelerated, and then when Rosie met her eyes in the pane of glass, it stopped all at once. Rosie tilted her head and smiled brightly.
After a few very long seconds, Zara looked away.
Idiot.
“Zara?”
She jumped when Castor tapped her shoulder and snapped, "What?”
“Oh, um.” he fiddled with his hands, “I was just asking if you were doing okay?”
“Everyone’s so interested all of a sudden.” she murmured, “I’m fine.”
“Okay? It’s just — it seems like something’s up with you—”
“Castor, please just drop it.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but he just nodded instead. Zara was grateful for his restraint, but guilt twinged in her stomach at his expression.
She slouched back in her chair and sighed before flatly saying, “Sorry.”
“Hm?”
“Nothing.”
Castor furrowed his eyebrows and scratched his head but didn’t say anything else. He went back to reading one of his demonology books — one that Zara could have sworn she’d seen him start and finish multiple times already — and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence.
Time passed and other patrons filtered in and out of the tavern as the night wore on, until just their group and a couple other odd patrons remained. Zara glanced across the table at Rosie, whose drinks were all empty. She was hiccuping intermittently and her face was flushed almost pink despite her grey skin, and she was saying something to Knowles about the value of jewelry with repousse. Zara was more focused on how she was tilting her head and twirling her hair around her finger. Just so damned charming.
Tode interrupted her train of thought, “I believe I’m quite tired. I think I’m going to find a tree to sleep in now.”
“Are you sure? It’s not very late.” Rosie asked.
“I would like to rise early. Gethin told me that a flumph migration is passing over this valley at sunrise.”
“Gethin?”
“The moth!” Tode pointed at a brown and white spotted fellow that was perched on the window frame, "He said it’s supposed to be wonderful!“
Knowles clapped their thighs and stood, “I should probably get to bed too. Big travel day tomorrow. You guys should consider getting some rest as well.”
“I’m just going to finish reading this last section.” Castor said without looking up.
“Oh, come on! Won’t anyone stay up with me?” Rosie whined as Knowles disappeared up the stairs, “Zara?”
“Sorry, I don’t have an endless supply of energy like you do. I’m heading to bed too.” Zara stood.
“Ugh! Fine!” she threw her head back in exasperation and leapt to her feet, “I’ll go with you.”
"Great. ”
The two of them began up the stairs. “I wonder what animals sound like to Tode. Like, if they have voices like we do.”
“I would guess so.” Zara replied as they rounded a landing, “I don’t think they speak like people, though.”
“What?”
“I don’t think they have language the same way we do, with words and stuff. It’s probably different for them.” Zara said. She chanced a look at Rosie, who was looking back at her with a tipsy smile and those wide open eyes. Zara’s ears reddened when they made eye contact and she looked away. “Or something. I don’t know.”
“Mmmm.”
Zara halfheartedly rolled her eyes.
They reached Zara’s door and Rosie asked, “Did Knowles say when we’re supposed to leave in the morning?”
“I don’t know. Early.”
“Wow, thanks.”
“Just—,” Zara opened her door, turned around in the door frame, and sighed deeply. She bit back her annoyance and continued, “Just don’t sleep in too late, okay?”
“Why don’t you wake me up?”
“What?”
“Just come to my room and wake me up in the morning. I don’t want to hold everyone back.”
Zara didn’t say anything, instead staring blankly down at Rosie with a frown. They stood there for a moment just looking at each other, and then Rosie perked up again.
“Oop! You’ve got something right here.” Rosie pointed underneath her right eye. Zara tried to rub it off but was apparently unsuccessful, and suddenly Rosie was on her toes and plucking it off of her cheek. Zara’s throat tightened as Rosie’s drunken breath fanned against her face from just a few inches away; there weren’t just butterflies this time, her stomach was doing acrobatics. Rosie dropped back onto her heels and examined it before breaking into a grin, “It’s an eyelash! Make a wish!”
Zara stared at her with glazed eyes before sputtering, “I don’t believe in wishes.”
“Of course you don’t. I’ll make one for you.” She squeezed her eyes closed and scrunched up her face exaggeratedly, as if she was thinking very hard, and then suddenly dropped the expression and blew the eyelash out from in between her forefinger and thumb. She beamed at Zara, “There.”
“What did you wish for?”
“It won’t come true if I tell you that!” she turned around and skipped down the hallway, calling behind her, “Goodnight!”
Zara watched her disappear and then practically fell into her room, closing the door and collapsing against it. Idiot, idiot, idiot. She lightly banged her horns on the wood, eyes closed in some silent prayer to whoever was listening to please leave her be. She caught a glimpse of herself in the floor mirror and touched the place on her cheek where the tip of Rosie’s thumb had brushed against her skin. Her face was red hot.
What did I do to deserve this?