.______________________.Dead Man's Drink ______________________ . Middas, 1st of Evening Star, Fourth Era Year 201 At some point during her day, mostly which was spent keeping away from the others somewhat, Siouxie realized they were now closer than ever to the truth.
They, not just she, herself. But they. Them.
It had been a long venture, seeking the words of the others she'd been in deep contact with for months now. She had begun this venture by herself, had at some point begun joining Laprima at night during their dreams (which her stubborn friend still refused to admit) and now they were both nearing the truth. Standing at the precipice of knowledge which would change everything and all.
"Let us resolve this matter with the jarl, and with haste," she muttered while standing deep within a thicket.
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The day was getting long, the sky dark. Laprima was getting sleepy. Even so, she wanted to peruse the Jarl's Longhouse before returning to the others, just to get a further feel of the court of Falkreath, its leader and his minions.
But maybe best to wait upon such measures. Dead Man's Drink, the town's inn, was calling. Maybe it's time to heed that call. Surely by now, one of the folks she interviewed earlier in the day could also be ensconced within the longhouse at this very moment, describing 'some black-haired lady wearing armors of hide' asking too many questions about the jarl and his policies. Wouldn't be prudent to then just appear within the court before she's thought everything through, and with a good night's rest bolstering her assuredness.
"What can I get ya?" asked Valga Vinicia, the inn's bronze-skinned keeper.
Laprima went for her usual: soup and bread with some Surilies to drink it down. Erm, yes. Surilies. Premium wine with a year and a label, imported straight from Skingrad, was a luxury of course. But it would help boost confidence, she figured, to treat herself beforehand. An hour ago, she'd sold a second batch of useless potions to the town's general goods store, and now had some money to splurge.
Dead Man's Drink was crowded: seven soldiers and one mage spent the night along with the inn's works, the pretty blonde bard, an assortment of other folks passing through for the night. Really it was remarkable how easy it was for her to fall asleep, considering the fact she'd mostly slept in just two beds during her upbringing. Two beds, the first one smaller than the bed she'd been given during teenage years. Two beds, in a home which was so insulated with varieties of stone walls and wooden fixtures, it was like a tomb.
My how things had changed. Every night before heading to whatever bed or roll she'd rented during this new life of hers on the road, she wondered how she'd be able to gain respite so publicly. And now here she was, bedding for the night in yet another open room, because most inns in Skyrim did not even have doors!
Her slumber came as the raucous sounds of some sort of drinking game filled the tavern. Tomorrow would be another day perhaps, or it could be the very day which changed the very direction of the war itself.