Getting along to protect

The night went quickly for Meilin after that encounter. She washed the shirt, went back tot he room, almost tripped a few of her own traps before getting into bed and falling into a light sleep. Her dreams were plagued with whippings and torture for her outbursts, a grinning Elyaevin standing off to one side, saying something along the lines of her sort had better learn respect. Despite the late hour at which she went to bed, her training awoke her just before dawn. She got into new clothes as quietly as she could, not wishing to awaken the princess who undoubtedly wanted to sleep in a tad bit longer. Slipping out of her room with her sword, bow and a quiver of arrows, she moved into the inn's courtyard, thought out of the way should anyone need to get to anywhere important.

As she did a sword dance--a mix of different battle techniques that she had always liked to do for it made her think that she was actually getting to dance instead of fight--she thought over the conversation the night before. Meilin had been stupid to go see the horses. She had spoken so casually to the duke-scion about wounds and then of other things. Grunting as she tripped and fell on her knee again, she was reminded of the scrap. Determined not to let the evening before mean anything but one of the worst possible situations one could get into with a noble, she got up and put her sword away.

She took out her bow and strung with before notching an arrow, sighted, and released. The arrow swam through the air before making a thunk against the wooden target she had placed 40 feet away. She released three ore arrows after the first, each of them landing next to another until she had formed a square with them. Taking a fifth arrow she released and watched as it went straight in the middle of the cluster. Meilin silently cheered for herself since she knew the likelihood of anyone seeing her triumph was small. It was even a smaller chance that anyone would understand how hard it had been to learn to do that. It was one thing to shoot the bulls eye--it was another thing completely to form a small box with arrows and then get the last arrow through the center.
 
Elyaevin slept very deeply, as always, but probably found his dreams as displeasurable as Meilin hers. He endured hours of lecturing by a furious mother, her shrewd honey eyes darkening as they always did to dark black when she was angry, her face merging with the guardswoman's, and even screaming in pain, with bruises flowering on her arms and cheeks – flashbacks that distressed him deeply. Among nobility, domestic violence was commonplace, but for Ely, the abuse of his mother left him feeling horribly useless. It was his job to protect the family, as she reminded him daily. It was his job to make sure no harm came to her – and every time his drunken father lashed out on her, he failed miserably. Sometimes it seemed he couldn't keep anyone safe.

The agitated whinny of his horse woke him. At first, he was startled to be lying in the hay, dust and the smell of animals and dung and wood all about, dirtier than he'd been in years since he used to mud-wrestle with his brothers. He saw the rays of sun that shone through cracks in the wood and started, realizing how late it was. The horse moved again restlessly, and Ely looked around to see what was bothering it. He didn't see anything, but somewhere outside he could hear a steady thrum. He could tell the sound anywhere – archery practice.

Archery.

Ely turned his back to the exit and found a slop bucket that was moderately clean. His distorted face was reflected back. He blanched when he saw the disarray of his hair and his hand flew to his belt. He groaned with frustration when he remembered his comb was on his belt, in his pack. He emptied the bucket of its foul contents – dirty water, he hoped – and carried it back to his resting place, taking off his nightshirt – that article of clothing belonged to no pauper. He was dismayed to see the state of it, but that was quickly remedied with several careful brushes of his comb. Next, he moved on to his hair, combing it obsessively until it was a glossy sheet of black, as he liked it. He repacked his comb – it would not do for a pauper to wear a belt – and looked forward immensely to getting back on the road so he could switch out of this disguise.

He sighed and decided he'd have to talk to the guardswoman at some point. He collected the coppers and bronzes she'd given him and sauntered out into the sunlight, enjoying the whiff of countryside. He'd been right – there she was, just a few feet off in the courtyard, displaying impressive aim. Well. She'd been practicing all her life after all. Still, he couldn't help feeling impressed – he knew how much diligent effort that must've taken. He approached her. "Shall we buy ourselves and the Princess some breakfast, and rations for the trail?" he asked off-handedly, as though he wasn't paying any attention at all to her shooting.

--

((OOC:
SleepyDreamer said:
Her dreams were plagued with whippings and torture for her outbursts, a grinning Elyaevin standing off to one side, saying something along the lines of her sort had better learn respect.
Click to expand...
O_O I am officially traumatized! :sad:))
 
((OOC: XD She's got a pretty twisted imagination no? Sorry if I traumatized ya though ><'' Didn't mean to do that))

~~

Meilin was just lining up another shot when he spoke. Her hand jerked and the arrow went wide destroying the square by landing far to the left. Scowling at the board, for she dare not scowl at the man, she walked over to the board and pulled each of the arrows out of the board, being care to not dislodge the arrow head. Closing her eyes so that she wouldn't glare at the man for destroying her concentration. Taking a deep breath she walked back to where her fifth and final arrow stood in the ground. She cast a look around to see if anyone was there before bowing to the lordling. She took up her stance again, intending to try once more before she quit. "If your grace things it wise, then I suppose that would be a good thing to do," she said as she sighted and released. This time she didn't go for the square. As quickly as she could she released all five arrows. She smiled when they flew true to her desire and all went to cluster in the middle.

Meilin wasn't trying to impress anyone with this. She just had to get her anger out before she snapped at the noble for surprising an archer. But she couldn't help but smile. Getting a cluster always made her feel as if she were showing all the bullies she had met that she was as good if not better than them at something. She unstrung her bow and placed it on the ground next to her sword and quiver, then jogged away from the noble to retrieve the arrows. Satisfaction swelled from her person as she pulled each arrow free and jogged back to where her items lay.

"Would your grace like to test his skills at archery before I put these away?" she asked as she knelt to put the arrows in the quiver.
 
"No, I'd rather not," replied Ely, amused that she was so visibly edgy about missing that one shot. He'd ruined it for her, yes, but among his friends it was a joke. They did it to each other all the time. Target shooting was a competition between them, but also a sport. Missing a shot because you were doubling over in laughter due to Jedoce's imitation of the herbology tutor didn't matter at all – on the contrary, it was hilarious. Ely guessed that was not frequently the reaction on the training grounds where Meilin had spent most of her life.

"All right, then," he said as she put the arrows in the quiver. "Let's go. Do you drink?" He cocked his head. It was a question posed out of pure curiosity. He'd never before met a woman who would even consider touching alcohol. Smelling it could make them gasp in shock and drinking in their presence was considered very rude. But city guards might be a different story.

((OOC: hehe, no worries … I'm thinking once we get back onto the road again, a raid would be fun! How 'bout you?))
 
((OOC: Oooh, a raid sounds fun :3 ))

Meilin picked up her quiver and slung it over her shoulder before picking up her sword and bow. "It depends on the drink and what time it is, your grace. But since I'm technically going to be on duty the whole trip, I can only accompany you to drink but not part-take." She was being very careful about what she said. The night before when they had talked so casually had been against all codes of conduct that Meilin had ever heard of. She was determined to show him that while she did deserve to be punished for her uncontrolled speech, she didn't deserve to lose any body parts as she knew some nobles were keen on doing to an uncontrolled peasant.

"Excuse me, your grace. I do not understand why you would ask a question like that. Of what importance is it if I drink water or ale in my time off of duty?" she asked, unable to stop herself, though she made sure that it was all very formal like. She was eyeing him out of the corner of her eye, though if he were to look at her it would look as if she were looking at the stables passed him. She was very good at hiding where her gaze truly went. After all, how many times had she checked out a fellow guard without them knowing it? Some of the guards--though not most--had really done well for themselves in the muscle area.
 
Elyaevin inwardly exhaled with relief. Her distancing language did not escape him. At least they were on the same page about this. Her next response surprised him. He wasn't used to questions as answers from his inferiors, but could have cared less. She seemed like a decent person. "'Tis of no importance," he said. "Let us proceed." He had the uncomfortable feeling he was being watched* and looked over his shoulder surreptitiously as he neared the tavern.

Goodness. It was almost worse by day than by night. The whole place was a sorry mess. A pudgy barmaid was mopping up large puddles of foul-smelling liquor and another was collecting shards of glass that lay all about. Chairs had been evidently cleaned and put back in their original position, but in the corner of the room, one had been totally smashed and presumably left there to use as firewood. Although light and airy in the morning atmosphere, Ely still felt stifled by the dirty surroundings. He wouldn't be a commoner for all the jewels in the Queen's crown. Though in that case he wouldn't be a commoner anyway.

He picked his way across the rancid floor and was relieved to reach the staircase. It wound upwards, creaking with every step, and he scowled at the thought of waking the princess. At last he reached the room and knocked. "Is Your Majesty … ah … decent?" he asked a bit awkwardly, feeling self-conscious again in his pale white pauper's shirt, another he'd borrowed from Meilin's pack that morning. He hoped she didn't mind.


((OOC: *LOL, not the brightest star in the sky, is he? Also this is a bit exclusively written but I couldn't hijack your char and just assume she'd be walking with him, hope that's OK!))
 
((OOC: x3 No, no he isn't. That's completely fine.))

Meilin had followed the man silently back up to their rooms and wanted to slap her forehead when he had called through the door to see if the other woman was decent. What, did he think females slept in nothing? Of course, Meilin didn't know what kind of teachings nobles received in the way of other genders, but if she hazard a guess, it would be very loud and very wrong in the minds of common people. Deciding that at some point she would have to show the lordling how real people worked, though in a more than subtle way, she slipped passed him and opened the door an inch to peak in. When she saw that the princess was up and combing her hair and in 'decent' clothes, she opened the door and stepped over the trap at the door.

"Hold a moment your grace or you will lose a foot." She warned as she put the weapons on her bed and returned to the door to dismantle a deadly looking trap. Folding it up she stowed it away in its individual parts back in her pack before going about dismantling the other traps in the room. It kept her busy for a good ten minutes, having to trip the traps first without getting hurt or hurting the nobles. She did all this in silence, not wanting to interrupt if the nobles started to speak of plans. Of course, it also gave her an excuse not to look or speak to Elyaevin.
 
Elyaevin was impressed for the second time in ten minutes when he saw her flit around the room dismantling the vicious-looking traps. What he had told her the night before was true – at least he could make a very good rabbit trap, but otherwise his trapping abilities were … mediocre. He suddenly wished he'd come to trapping lessons. Perhaps he'd have something to show for himself then.

He realized the Princess was watching him and quickly lifted his gaze to her face reflected in the mirror, in case she wished to speak to him. Instead he just saw a contemplative expression, and when her eyes shifted to Meilin, intently concentrating on one particularly tricky contraption as the ash-blonde strands of hair fell into her face, he saw the Princess's mouth turn up just a bit in its corners, as though … as though she was smiling. Ely's brows furrowed with puzzlement. Was this good? Bad? What on earth was Isabella thinking? Was she laughing at them somehow? He shouldn't have worn the white shirt after all – he could tell in the mirror that his chest hair condition was definitely an issue. *

He decided to avoid Meilin as much as possible that day. She seemed to be the cause of all sorts of upsetting feelings. "Your Majesty," said Ely with a gallant bow, "I am off to purchase us breakfast and rations for travel. Is there a food in particular you would like?​"

((OOC: * LOL, it's really fun RPing a guy!! XD))
 
((3: Him and his chest hair, so adorable~))

Meilin was keenly aware that someone was watching her. She could feel it on her back and could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise at the sensation. She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the princess watch her though the reflection of the glass and Ely watching the princess. Meilin looked back at what she was doing just in time to snatch her hand away before the miniature axe that was attached to it could cut her pinky off. Grumbling darkly to herself she turned her back on the nobles and put the trap away. She knew there was a reason she hated traveling with nobles--they always stared at one when the person was only trying to do their job.

"Anything you can get Elyaevin will be greatly appreciated. Also, on the table is the silver you gave to Guardswoman Meilin last eve. She has told me that you gave her too much for the food that she gave you from her packs," the princess was saying. Meilin flinched. She should have requested that the princess not speak of that part to him. She had not wanted Elyaevin, especially after last night, to know of her actions in that regard. "Is something wrong Guardswoman? Did you cut yourself?"

Meilin looked over her shoulder and smiled politely up at the nobles, "No your highness," she lied, "Almost did, but got my fingers out of the way just in time, your highness."

"Good, I would hate for you to be injured just one day into our travels. Once you are done with the traps, why don't you go with Elyaevin to grab the breakfast and rations?" the princess asked, though it was more of an order.

"Of course your highness, I will have them done momentarily." Meilin was groaning on the inside, wishing that the princess had just kept her mouth shut. Working as quickly as she could she put the last trap away in her packs and dusted off her pants so that any dust from the floor would not plague her as she moved about. "Your grace," She said as she walked to the door and opened it, giving a small bow to the nobles.
 
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"Thank you, Your Highness," said Elyaevin, "It is most generous of you to return the money." But she wasn't finished speaking yet. Her next words made him press his lips together unhappily. He turned to Meilin. "I would think it be safer and less suspicious if we do not seem to be one group, as we agreed earlier. I'll go down to order first and you can come after. I'll order breakfast, you the rations." Before anyone could object he half-strolled, half-bolted out the door, glad to be away from the stifling presence of the two women. The whole time he'd had the uncomfortable feeling both of them were making fun of him.

When he entered the tavern for the second time, everything seemed tidier and certainly less smelly, which was a welcome relief to his respiratory system. He approached the bar, where the bartender was regarding him suspiciously. Ely placed three coppers on the table and ordered the food.

((OOC: Sorry for the short post!))
 
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((OOC: And thank you for befriending me and giving me the chance to meet such amazing characters as Elyaevin. :) our story woudln't be half as humorous if there was no Ely))

Meilin did not miss the point where Elyaevin thanked the princess for returning the money even though Meilin was the one that requested it be returned. She ignored that though. After all, she had never met a noble that had ever lowered themsevles to thanking the likes of her. At least Meilin had been honest. She could have kept all the money and squirreled it away. Despite these thoughts she knew she never would have done that. She ahd learned a long time ago that money could be the downfall of any person--be they from a family or single. She watched the man leave and wanted to shout after him but the princess stopped her with a light hand on her shoulder.

"Guard, did anything happen last night after I was asleep? The tension between the two of you has seem to compounded a lot since the last I had my eyes opened.I would hate for there to be any problems between you two," Isabella said in a moment of gentleness that surprised the guard.

"Your highness needn't worry about me. His actions and personality are no stranger to me. Many act as he does around the capital and I've learned to stay out of their way. There is nothing you need to worry over, your highness. After all, commoners don't usually get to speak to nobles--I am honored to be given this chance, though it is a bit nerve wrecking," Meilin said nervously before dashing out of the room after a hurried bow. "I'll go get the rations your highness." She was down the stairs and in the company of the other noble quicker than a rabbit running from a hunter, though she didn't think this was any better company either. "Rations for a week sir," she ordered with a pleasant smile as she started to tie her hair back out of her face with the leather strap she had retrieved from her pants pocket. "Oh, and some food for horses while you are at it, the best that can be bought for two horses if you don't mind kind sir."

The inn keeper smiled and gave her a total in which she fished out of her purse quickly and handed over. "We'll have these brought up to your rooms as soon as they are done," the man said.

"No, I'll get them. The trader I'm with wants us to leave soon so I'll be packing them directly onto the horses, Master Inn keep." Meilin said with a gentle smile that seemed to bring a different light to her face--one where the hard lines of a guards face melted away and revealed a young woman rather than a hard guard that she had been showing to the nobles. Sure the face was a few scars from bad training sessions with real swords on the womans face but nothing that would destroy the looks underneath.

"As you wish mistress," the barkeep told her, before moving off to tell his people to gather three meals for the peasant and a weeks ration for the trader and her guard.
 
((OOC: Lol, if I do say so myself that might be true xD))

The bartender was certainly surprised that he asked for such a large ration but Elyaevin could not bother with details and he wanted to eat godsdamnit. The man disappeared to shout orders into the noisy back kitchen and a portly, red-faced man with a swinging belly (clearly an alcoholic) approached Ely conversationally. "Oy, so why's a young farmboy like ye int'rested in t'ree bowls o' porridge?" the innkeeper asked testily.

Ely was peeved. He opened his mouth to give the nosy man a sharp reprimand and with a sinking feeling in his stomach realized he was supposed to be in inferior social status to this incompetent twat. "On the road," Ely muttered under his breath. "Generous master." He kept his eyes out of the man's ruddy face, lest the overwhelming urge to punch him grow too strong.

The innkeeper grunted and moved off to greener grasses. As Ely waited impatiently for his food to be prepared, he heard Meilin's light voice behind him. "Rations for a week, sir." Ely couldn't help himself. He turned around to look. And was jolted where he stood. What a smile! But Meilin – the guardswoman – had shown herself to be the observant type and it would absolutely not do to have her notice him staring. He diverted his attentions back to the bartender, who was cleaning dirty dishes. At least he didn't have that lousy job.

The rations were prepared with surprising speed. Elyaevin himself was used to hours of waiting for his dinner to be finished and ready to eat. Conversations were always so lively at his dinner table. Usually because he had friends over, who had friends and their friends over. And his brothers would have friends over, too. And his mother was so talkative, a social butterfly, always inquiring after Jedoce's sister, that fetching lass! and how is Hamleigh's uncle faring with that nasty bout of pneumonia?

"Here," the bartender said gruffly, shoving the plates over the counter. Ely's brow furrowed and he looked down at the two bowls of porridge. He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. That blasé "Here" had already bothered him plenty.

"I believe I did request three bowls," he said as calmly as he could.

The bartender laughed loudly. "What are ye, some stately noble?" he guffawed. "I've got the porridge." He leaned in close, his smelly breath making Ely's nose twitch. Don't wrinkle it. Don't wrinkle it. "But I'm afraid I'll 'ave to ask for a bit of toll."

Realization sunk in. "Good sir," Ely fumed, "I have given you the necessary coppers."

The bartender grinned insolently. "Two more, little noble."

Elyaevin swallowed but his pride refused to go down with it. His breath came hotly. What INSOLENCE! He was sure his face was growing red. He knew he was a "peasant", that this wasn't going anywhere, that he was just making a bigger fool of himself and pleasing that bastard more. He just couldn't stand the thought of paying this lazy git, this – this blackmailer who would take advantage of a poor, traveling servant – two more coppers. This was outrageous. He could have bought himself good beer with that money.

"By your honor, man, I humbly request that you give me what is due, lest I need alert your manager of this incompetence." He bit his tongue. His words were far too sharp. Suddenly he remembered something. He cast a harried glance over his shoulder at the inkeeper. Perhaps he could be of help? Surely this would negatively impact the tavern's reputation!
 
The young woman had been waiting for the horse food to be brought out as well when the barman tried to pry more money from the young 'peasant'. She debated quickly what to do and finally settled on a course of action, even if it might get her in on the wrong side with the noble--yet again. Closing her eyes, she sighed and walked over and slammed down the money the man was asking for. The smile that had relaxed her features a second ago was gone and her dark eyes and fair hair was making her look rather mean and hard again.

"You'll stop this silliness, sir. I will warn you that my trader has the ears in high places. Should she suggest it, you could be kicked from this place and not get any job in this entire country, and believe me, as someone that came from the peasantry to begin with, I will be suggesting that should I ever hear that you pull this stunt again," She said, her eyes flashing dangerously. "This kind of scummer muck attitude and behavior disgraces this country. Now get this man his third bowl and me an extra tart because of the bother you've put me through to stop you, free of charge. You can pay for my cost to your employer from all the money I've no doubt you've scammed."

She stood her tallest during as she spoke to the barman. Her eyes were darker than they'd been even when she'd spoken back to the noble the day before. "Do you understand me?"

"You've no proof. No one will believe a wench like you," the barkeep said angrily at being stopped from getting more money and even told to pay for an extra tart which was three times the amount of a bowl of porridge.

Meilin let a smile flit onto her face though this one was a cold and scary. "Call me a wench again, good sir, I dare ye," She hissed, sending a shiver down the mans back.

"Demon wench is what ye are with those eyes. You'll get your tart and the bowl. Keep yer money; I won't take the money from a demon witch like you," the man said before rushing away to get the food.

Meilin's evil smile fell from her face and she looked suddenly very tired as she picked up the ration packs and slung them over her shoulder. Despite putting the weight on her shoulders, she stuck around to get her tart and make sure that Ely didn't get any more trouble.
 
((OOC: LOL!))

Elyaevin wanted to say something. He really wanted to. He found no words. Instead what he found was himself gaping at Meilin. As soon as the bartender rushed off it was all he could do not to swing himself over the counter and come after the offensive bastard, but he had no sword and it would be quite foolish to do so. Rather, he shut his mouth and redirected his gaze to the counter, which was soon graced with three bowls and a nice-looking tart.

As soon as the bartender sheepishly returned to the bowels of the kitchen Ely turned to Meilin and awkwardly cleared his throat, determined to thank her in a lordly, manly fashion. Trouble was, the only person he'd ever seen making orders – or thanking anybody – was his mother. His mother had many good qualities but she certainly wasn't masculine.

"I … I express my gratitude," he said stiffly, trying not to sound too familiar. That innkeeper might overhear. He tried a new tactic since this obviously wasn't working. So he attempted to laugh the awkwardness away. "I guess there are advantages to be had of demon-wenchhood." He realized he sounded juvenile. As he might charm a pretty kitchen maid. He was abashed but could not bear to show it and wound his pride further. He would rather have her know him as an insolent prick. How sad, the illusions the blind must endure, he thought to himself. A Palfile proverb, one that rang true to him many times in life.

He precariously balanced the three bowls on his arms, hoping for a reply. Had he been too condescending? Had his jest been inappropriate? Probably a highly unsatisfactory combination of both. Why in the seven hells did it matter so much to him to prove anything to her, or to thank her adequately? She still owed him, he remembered. He cursed himself inwardly. Now he was coming over as soft. This day just kept getting better.
 
(OOC: What is so lol about me's postings? :O))

Meilin's shoulders stiffened as he joked about 'demon-wenchhood'. It had always stung her when people said that about her. After all, what choice did she have in her hair or eyes? She'd been born that way and hadn't even wanted them most of her life. That was why she was a guard. This way most people didn't banish her because of her eyes or her attitude. They could hardly care if their women guards had purple or blue hair as long as they fought well. She took her tart and bit into it, giving herself some time to think of an appropriate way to tell him never to joke about such a thing. Only it never came to her so she simply lowered her eyes and gave a small bow of her head to show she'd heard.

"Sometimes threatening will do the trick sir. Not in the royal kind just a glare and threaten to report him to an the innkeeper or have your boss talk to someone in the capital will get them to straighten up," she said before biting her bottom lip and looking around. "And please, your grace, don't call me a demon-wench. I hate it when people call me that. As if my looks could be changed." The last part was more to herself, echoing her thoughts but she turned and motioned playacting-like to the 'beggar'. "Come with me, you can eat up with me and my trader. No sense in you being down here where men don't work as they should." It was more to make it less conspicuous that the 'begger' had a reason to go up the stairs rather than eat down here and have two ladies join him. Meilin bit into her tart again and munched on it as she led the way up to the room. The Princess was just putting the last of her things in bags when Meilin opened the door and held it open for Ely to enter.
 
((OOC: LOL because Meilin is so … so … so demon-y!! In an awesome way! xD Btw, I snuck in a response from him before they go upstairs, is that ok? Sorry about the timelapse… I can change it if necessary!))

Ely did a mental facepalm. The woman had taken him seriously! And why had he even ever said such a ridiculous thing? Now he had to save himself with another idiotic comment. His family's proverb crossed his mind once more. "I didn't really mean you were a … a … what the bartender called you," said Ely. He realized her comment sounded like she had been called that before. "I don't find a thing amiss with your hair, or your, uh, your eyes, or, er … looks … in general." He realized the stupidity of his words the moment they escaped his mouth and began to falter halfway through. The last was barely a murmur. He was very grateful when she led the way upstairs so they didn't have to look at each other. Balancing the three bowls of porridge was tricky but he didn't drop them. Which pleased him.

By the time they reached the princess he felt good again about himself. He'd apologized. They were clean slate now, right? When the guardswoman opened the door for him, he felt positively happy. She still knew her place. This was good. That was probably what had been the source of all this anxiety – her own tendency towards insolence and outspokenness. He placed the bowls on the table at one corner of the room, then dragged the lightweight piece of furniture closer to the center so that three people could sit around it. There was only one chair; clearly, this room was not made for many visitors. Ely reflected that he wouldn't mind standing.

"My lady," he said, bowing extravagantly to the princess. "Your meal."

The princess frowned, half at the lumpy porridge and half at him. "And what, pray, is the 'servant' doing eating breakfast with the 'traitor' and 'his' guard in their rooms?"

Ely had a fast answer for that. "Getting the food required … a certain cooperation. It would not be surprising, in view of the incident, that I dine with the guardswoman. I am of sure mind that our disguises stay safe."

Princess Isabella nodded absently and sat down on the lone chair to eat, and Ely pitied her a bit. He was used to coarse country food, especially on long hunts and other travels. There was one particular unfortunate event when, three weeks into the vast northern woods of Jedoce's great northern estate, a horse carrying all their flint and coal had run away in the middle of the night, leaving them to three weeks of freezing in the night and living on nuts and berries. It was common knowledge that nobles didn't eat meat raw. He wondered if Meilin had ever eaten raw meat, then frowned into his porridge bowl. Why, again, was this relevant? It was not. And what had happened to his plan to call her "the guardswoman" instead of "Meilin"?

It was sure awkward eating a porridge while standing…
 
Meilin smiled, though the light that had been there before did not appear. This smile was a cold one that only carried over the appearance of being happy. "The barkeep will not report our actions to the innkeeper. He believes me cursed and evil and will have nothing to do with me and the rest of the staff likes me well enough from last evening. I made a show of inviting his grace up with us to keep him from being hassled by others so it will not appear ill," she explained before picking up the additional packs that had been left in the room. "I'll just take these down and get the horses ready." She turned to leave but was stopped by the princess.

"And will you not be eating?"

Meilin looked over her baggage covered shoulders at the last bowl of porridge that sat there, waiting for her to pick it up. Again she smiled and shrugged, "I have a tart, your highness. I'll be well enough with this until midday or whenever we stop for our next meal. Your highness, or your grace, can have that bowl, whomever is the hungriest." She held up the half-eaten tart and took a bite to show that she wasn't just skipping a meal before leaving the nobles to their work of food. In truth she was simply going to eat what she had with her packs--beef jerky and bread with a little bit of cheese that she'd bought the day before they left the city. She thought that maybe she should offer it to the nobles and offer to take the porridge instead, but the thought of a beef jerky sandwich was too much for her to ignore. And it would be gone after this day anyway.

She trotted down the stairs into the main room and was on her way out the door when she tripped--or was tripped by the barkeep. She went sprawling into the door, her nose breaking at the impact. She cursed loudly, her hands going up to her nose which was the most important thing on her mind at the moment. And then she felt it. A liquid was poured down her back--it was ice cold and sticky and without looking up she could tell that it was some sort of ale or barley water. Instead of causing a fuss over it, she simply pushed herself up, collected the bags she had dropped and started towards the door again, her head tilted back to stop the bleeding from her nose.

She could feel the white tunic she wore stick to her back, revealing the pale skin underneath as the liquid made the material see through. Meilin made it to the barn without much incident after that.

((No I didn't mind :3 And Meilin being demony is funny, I suppose :3 Since she's really a sweetheart underneath it all))
 
Ely ate in silence. The princess looked troubled somehow, and unhappy about the porridge. He dared not disturb her and found himself wanting for company. He rolled his eyes at his porridge. How sadly limited his choices were.

"Ely," said the princess, her porridge bowl unfinished, "please take our things to the stables and leave me while I dress." She stood and left for the bedside, where Elyaevin could see some clothing lying ready. He gulped nervously, did as she told, and left the room hoping he would never have to come back. He passed through the tavern below, noticing a stain spreading on the wood floor where something had spilled. He stepped over it and passed through the door soon enough, the large pack the princess had ordered taken into her room slung over one shoulder.

He entered the dark stables with apprehension, knowing Meilin was probably lurking around somewhere. He approached his horse, at the far end of the stables so as to separate him from the guardswoman and the "trader", and attached the pack without much incident. He stroked the stallion's chestnut nose and for a brief moment wondered what it was like to be a horse. He immediately scolded himself mentally for his foolish thoughts and, satisfied that the horse was ready, led it by the reins towards the exit.

Splosh. Curses exploded from Ely's mouth as he stepped into horsedung – again. He groaned in frustration, then quickly looked about to make sure no one had noticed the noise, before beginning to scrub it off with some straw. As he leaned over he came too close to the stallion, which reared, knocking the pack about on its back. In one rush of shimmering satin, a luxurious grey-blue gown fluttered from an unsecured opening and fell into the straw. Ely's heart was in his mouth. Muttering below his breath for the mercy of the gods, he was grievously disappointed when, upon gathering the valuable cloth awkwardly and holding it up, he noticed a deep brown stain upon the bodice, with goo dripping down the skirt. Curses!

"Uh, good guardswoman?" he called out into the darkness, wondering if anyone heard him. "I – I would like to speak with you and – I could – use some aid," he managed, hoping no one else​ would come out of the shadows and ask what exactly a servant was doing with a princess's dress from the trader's pack.
 
Meilin had been changing into a new shirt when she'd heard the unmistakable sound of Ely's voice. She slipped into a plain, thin cotton shirt that she used for sleeping in on hot nights and stepped outside of the stall that housed her horse. She leaned against the stall side and assessed the situation. It was clear what had happened and Meilin wasn't able to keep a good natured smile like the one that had appeared with the barkeep from appearing on her face.

"Your grace must have some terrible luck for this week if you don't mind me saying," she said before walking over and taking the dress from him to inspect the damage. "If your grace gets the horses ready, I can go and get this clean quickly enough." It was an offer she hoped he would take. After unpacking her food she had stared at it guiltily and hoped that one of the nobles had come in to take it from her. How could she have been so cold as to force them to eat porridge and let herself eat like one of them on a country holiday? This way Ely would find the food and be able to take it to the Princess or eat it himself. It didn't help that she still smelled like the ale that had been poured on her and she would start to reek if she didn't wash herself as well but she hadn't been able to get that far in her packing and unpacking.

It occurred to her as she took the dress from his hands that she'd spoken ill to him again and she wanted to throw herself out into another puddle of ale. "Your grace, I meant--Gods blast me where I stand I've done it again. I am sorry your grace. Just leave everything to me. You can head back inside your grace and not worry about a thing. I'll take care of it," she said quickly, the smile that had lit her face gone into a humiliated look. Her eyes searched for someplace to be--anywhere but on the dress or on Ely. She didn't flinch away--a guard never flinched from a punishment that they aught to deserve. "But as payment please, there is some bread and jerky and cheese with my packs, take it. I forgot completely about it until I was getting a new shirt after someone sp--Blast it here I am again. I'm sorry, your grace!" She felt like a fool. Since when had she been someone to just blab her secrets? She'd blame the barkeep for putting something in her tart she supposed but at the same time she knew it was because she was becoming too comfortable around the nobles.
 
Ely just had to smile to himself, though he took pains not to appear too pleased to the guard. There were limits to what you could let people get away with, and yet he felt more and more like Meilin's foul mouth and brutal honesty made for an interesting day at least. He found that he didn't mind so much this time. After all, covering a princess's bodice in horse shit wasn't exactly the peak of noble valor. He was all ready to accept her offer and wait outside for the horses when he remembered their disguises. He looked about furtively, hoping no one had heard her call him Your grace. "Ah … I think it would be safer if I got the horses ready after all," he said. He hurried off to do so; the less he stuck around her, the better for their disguises. Something had seemed a bit different about her, but he couldn't place his finger on what. It wasn't until he glanced over his shoulder to steal a last look that he realized she'd changed into the loose cotton shirt she had worn last night.

He wondered why that mattered and exhaled at himself with annoyance. There were things to be done. It really ought not concern him what shirt the guardswoman was wearing at the moment. His mother would be quite beside herself with frustration. She had always taught him to set aside the calls of wine, entertainment and women in favor of important matters. She was the one who had taught him to control his desire to shrug off all responsibilities and engage in every invitation to deviation and lust that his brain proffered. Which, he reflected, was a good thing. His friend Jedoce was a good example of why this was extremely important. He had yet to spend a night sleeping near a room containing Jedoce without hearing suspicious noises throughout and finding the door mysteriously locked, even in his own home.

He grinned to himself as he prepared the horses, securely fastening the packs, brushing the straw off their pelts, getting thoroughly covered in their smell. Say what one liked about his peers, they were his friends and he missed them. He missed the entire loose, cheerful country attitude. These city people were so stuffy and either bad-mannered or apparently of the idea that there was nothing but manners in the world.

It wasn't until he led the three steeds out into the light that something bothered him. He was still thinking about Jedoce and how he had declared great jealousy at Elyaevin's departure – Do you know that you can actually buy women in the cities? Jedoce had cried full of envy. Fraecilla had cast a disapproving eye upon them both and, true to her wishes and the values she had reared him with, Ely had stayed away from those parts of town. Not that he wanted to make love to a woman who did it for coin anyway. What kind of love was that? He couldn't imagine it at all.

But how had he come to thinking of this? That was what bothered him. He really couldn't remember why but it nagged at him. He wished his mother were there to guide him with her advice. She was so strong; he could always count on her. And she had taught him that winning doesn't always mean asserting dominance. Ely's father was the one who would beat her and spent all the money on alcohol against her will, yet anyone in Hoblington knew who was really in control of the house, the land, the people. Elyaevin frowned as he thought of these things. He hated his father, hated that feeling of helplessness. He began to worry about his mother. There were some things you could simply not protect yourself from. Some situations when you did not have a choice. Nowhere did this resonate more deeply to Ely than in the case of his mother. She was legally married to her abuser and could not deny him without losing her life and endangering the land and her family. For years she sacrificed herself nightly for her sons. It had taken him very long to understand this, but once he did there was no denying his mother's strength of character and immortal valor and manly fearlessness in the face of duty and honor. That was why he smirked inside when his contemporaries discussed the "frail sex".

"ELY!" Ely snapped his head up in shock, seeing the princess standing before him with an angry expression, in her trader's garb. Her voice was sharp. Clearly this was not the first time she had tried to summon his attention. "Where is the guardswoman?"

"Uh –" Ely looked back to the stables, wishing she would emerge quickly. "She –" Gods save me. "I –" He cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes. "I … uh … dirtied Your Majesty's … ah … dress," he mumbled, feeling the color rise in his face.
 
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