Chapter Text
Morning’s are always hard to wake up to but this morning is the worst- By far.
This morning is the worst because David’s arms hurt. Not just that, though that’s enough to make anyone complain, but his back also hurt. And his feet. And his head.
Why do they hurt? -You might ask.
They hurt because he’s just woken up from a nap in a bush.
Don’t judge - He didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go. If he did he wouldn’t be sleeping in a bush now would he.
Groaning and pushing himself up lazily, David takes in his surroundings, his priority being to check if during his nap he was robbed.
Knife? Check.
Other knife? Check
Other other knives? Check
Okay, priorities sorted. Maybe he should check for anyone else around.
He’s not an idiot- …Well, not any more of an idiot than some people. He’s in what could charitably called a ‘park’, benches and a lot of greenery thrown about.
It’s early morning which makes the grass dewey and wet- not good for him when he’s trying not to get some kind of hypothermia or soldiers foot.
But he has to admit it’s better than going to the forest and risking being torn apart by animals while he sleeps. (Not to mention the monsters.)
One check of the perimeter later and everything is as he expected, no one around and the delightful park in the middle of this terrible city is all his. No fighting over random alleyways marked by thieves cant.
“Have I mentioned how much I hate you?” He mutters to himself, regretting every choice that brought him here as he tries and fails to crack something. (He’d settle for a cracked back but he won’t object to any of his tense and frankly painfully tight body clicking)
Sleeping on the floor is not the best of ideas, but sleeping in a bush and on the floor is an even worse idea.
Still, no use dwelling on the past now, he’s just got to deal with the consequences.
“Water…water…wa-” And then he spots the fountain.
Is he stupid enough to drink and possibly bathe in the fountain’s water? No.
But is he desperate? Yes, and that always beats stupidity in making him do things.
He’s not a heavily armoured gentleman and for once that is a good thing, needing only to take off his trousers, shirt, wrap, shoes, socks and sheaths.
He keeps the sheaths close by in case any trouble should come clamouring in.
He’s sure this water’s not good for him but when will he have a chance to drink anything again? It’s not like he can go to the pantry of someone he robs and take the time- between assassinating them- to peruse their wines or meads or waters.
“Ah, yes, why did I give the target enough time to spot me and alert the city guard? I was thwrsty.” -He can tell how well that will go. Hint: IT’S NOT WELL!
Still, he’s in a cage of his own creation, he thinks as he rubs his arm, trying to massage away the pain.
He’s not injured- not by another person at least. This is a David-special. He just got a bit overenthusiastic with training yesterday after a job well done.
Well…he says job. Does it count as a job if he’s the one employing himself? Doesn’t it just count as self-employed torture?
All these questions and more David doesn’t have the head to figure out as he slowly comes to realise that the water is doing a good job of making him not smell but a poor job of taking away his pain.
He can live with that, he decides and thus gets out of the water, wondering how he is going to dry off.
Perhaps- and this is a very small perhaps- he should have thought of that BEFORE getting in the fountain.
“Ughhh.” David sighs before doing his best to wipe the water off him. Hands at a right angle to his body and away he goes.
It isn’t perfect but it gets most of the job done and he’s learnt that beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to getting the job done. Do what you can with what you got and learn from it.
Once he’s done that as well as he can, he next wrings his hair, knowing there’s nothing more infuriating than wet hair ruining his perfectly good shirt by making it wet.
This is why he wakes up so early- Not as some kind of freaky self-punishment but because if it was not a ridiculously early hour he’d have to deal with standing naked in a public park for everyone to see.
As things are, he's only standing naked in a public park for no one else to see.
If he had time and the luxury of a roof above his head, David would take great care in brushing and styling his hair, caring a great deal about appearances.
But since he doesn’t have that luxury he just puts on his clothes, only slightly shivering, and ties his hair back enough for it not to get in the way.
One day he will put down roots and find a place to live. Today is not that day though as he makes sure he has everything and turns-tail to run.
If he WERE to imagine somewhere he would stay it would have to be perfect. Large, one big space with knives and swords and a bed on the floor. (Or maybe just above the floor, he is sure his back will thank him.)
“There he is! Get him!” Someone shouts and David is running. See, this is why he doesn’t plant roots.
“For the last time, I don’t break in to have sex with you or your wife, you came on to me!”
Sometimes nobles get under his skin. Take accountability and just admit you’re not entirely straight or monogamous! (David can’t count the amount of times he’s had to leave a town because husbands and wives decide HE’S the source of all their problems. He’s just existing. Not his fault you find him attractive.)