Staring Contest with the Night

[aquaace]

Sam let’s her chin rest on her knee, staring out at the view ahead of her. A breeze tousles through her hair before letting it fall flat against her cheek. She huffs a breath to push it out of her face, only to watch it fall back. Her sigh drops her shoulders as she concedes to sitting all the way up. Fingers run through her bangs as she turns her face to the night sky, taking in the faint chill rested in the air.

Getting up here hadn’t been hard. It had been getting away from all the people that had been the challenge. She hadn’t wanted to invite any other risk takers up with her. That and she figured it would be better to ask forgiveness rather than permission when climbing onto the roof of a tavern she had no connections with. Though she had a feeling Boss would have a few words of exasperation if she had asked to do the same at the Tavern she did work at. Or, would work at when they finished it.

Then again, he wasn’t exactly her boss right now. Birdy seemed to enjoy the more chaotic side of her shenanigans much more. She’d probably say yes.
The hypothetical victory feels bittersweet.

“Not fair.” She grumbles to herself, “You did this last year, and you didn’t even leave a real trail this time. How are we supposed to go after you now?”

Another sigh, and Sam flops back to sprawl across the roof. Then winces at the way a shingle connects with the back of her head. Ow.
She ignores it.

“She’ll get you back. Ain’t nobody got nothing on her. ‘Specially not with my swords cutting between anything that would try.”

Her arms cross over her chest as she sneers at the dark of the night sky like she could threaten the unseen forces that would even dare to try. She tightens her arms around herself at the ridiculousness of such a thing. Grumbling to herself, she rubs her hands over her face.

“Stop talking to people who aren’t here. You’re not allowed to go crazy yet. You have atka to do.”

A weight burns a whole in her pocket like the devil had been mentioned herself. The same weight that burned in her chest every waking moment of her life since she’d fallen through the portal. The resonation between the two brought a giddy adrenaline that rose her hackles and her heart rate. It was almost time. One in the wind but another so close her fingers burned with the temptation to grab the flame that danced before her eyes.

Patience. She needed patience.
Sam swears again and rubs her temples.
So much to do, and yet she felt so lost on how to get it done at all.

But she knew where to start.

“Time’s up. Pity party over.” She pushes herself back up, already scooting to the edge, “Let’s get it done, adriem ed erdam.”

Turning, she carefully lowers herself to hang by the ledge, the toes of her boots scraping the windowsill. Some more careful risk and she gets to a precarious stand that allows her to slip through the hall window. A gentle thud mumbles into the floor boards as she sinks into a crouch, fist closing around the ring on her neck.

Every step from then on is a whisper as she steps down the hall, boots rolling against the aged wood as her eyes pass over each rented room. She counts the doors until she gets to the right one. Crouching down, she slides a piece of parchment beneath the gap and knocks once.

Behind the door, the floor creaks, the light flickering. It doesn’t open, but that doesn’t matter. She’s already gone.

The bar of the tavern is still lively at this hour. A common occurrence as every new group of arrivals that happened upon this Sanctuary had something to mourn and celebrate with each moment they breathed, finally satiated. Despite the victory finally settling in, the people of Meadowmere found reason to join them and do both.

Something taps Galdius’ shoulder and then an arm is reaching over his other one for a mug on the bar. Sam takes a sip of the drink and ruffles his hair with a grin.

“Thanks for watching that, little brother.”

She winks and tilts the drink toward him before backing into the crowd. An off tune hum lightens her step as she bounces between patrons, slipping around groups and ducking elbows to navigate the room. Another drink is snagged off a tray as she passes a bar maiden on her way to a table tucked into the corner of the room. She sniffs the contents and shrugs before sliding into the booth. The tested drink is set halfway between her and the other person sitting there as an offer. They had a lot to discuss, after all.

Sam takes a swig of her own drink and leans forward with a grin.
“Alright, Boss, what’s next?”

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