makinglies | Respite

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faerun

Respite

The lake is dark and calm with a small breeze by the time they arrive at its shores. The stars above reflect perfectly in the still waters before them, and a small copse of trees lines one side, starting on their side of the river and jumping along the other side.

Chris takes a moment to re-prepare the spell he hadn't been able to cast in five years and gestures vaguely to the area around them as a suggestion for what the others can do. Gathering in the forest, sitting on a nearby over-turned log, it didn't matter to him. What he needed was an hour without interruption.

He settles down on the ground and presses his hands together as he closes his eyes to focus on the image in his mind. Within minutes, the white, shimmering outline of a large building forms in thin air. The gentle glow of its light barely spreads from the growing structure.

As promised, it takes the full hour before the slowly filling-in form is complete and finishes with a jaunty, echoing click.

Chris takes a breath, now sitting in front of the stoop that looks annoyingly like the one he'd passed earlier in the night, and gets back onto stiff legs as the glow fades away, leaving smooth, but otherwise unremarkable, white stone behind.

"Here we are. Home for the next however long we need. I'll start working on food and water next." Once they're inside, anyway, which is why he takes back his things from where he'd left them and leads them into the temple, marked only with the carving of ravens on the black wood of the double doors.

Inside is something just shy of opulence. The same polished white stone makes the walls, though black and gold veins course through the marble. The floor is the inverse, a black stone with white, shimmering speckles like a night sky if looked at for long enough. A single window faced East high up on the wall. The temple was alight with sconces at regular intervals along the walls, illuminating an open area that held all the offerings of comfort Chris could think of.

A large hot-springs-like bath, complete with a miniature waterfall, took up the left side of the room and ran into a smaller, similar bath at dog-height. Next to it, covered by a retractable screen, was a shower. Along the back wall, a raven's head emblazoned the white wall in black and watched out over a set of tables, chairs, and a couple of sofas. The majority of the center was clear for walking, but the right edge and right side of the room held a deeply inset pit of pillows, cushions, and blankets in various soft (black and purple) fabrics.

Finally, in the middle of the right-hand wall, there were two closed doors that, when inspected, revealed one room with a large, soft chair and rug, while the other room was made of nothing but stone with jars, pitchers, and plates on shelves along two walls and a cork wall perfect for catching daggers on the other side.

"I hope it works for everyone. I didn't...I didn't make separate bedrooms this time. I didn't figure we would need them tonight."

♥

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He lets himself be pulled in, throat tightening as emotions threaten to overwhelm him once more. There's far too much of that going on right now. While he's focused on Chris, he has a sense of some of what's going on outside the walls, which... he probably needs to try harder to stop. Ambient use of his abilities is, no doubt, draining whatever well he has faster.

Maybe if he had a new victim, though...

Jon pushes the thought away as Chris curls around him. The Archivist clings to his boyfriend in turn, knowing this can't last, that there are so many ways the days ahead of them might and will go sideways.

"I don't see what's changed? We just get to keep you. You don't have to be the king, dealing with everything." There's freedom that comes with the new and different chains binding all of them together.

"We should... Probably get properly washed and dressed before the others come in. I went through everything in the wardrobe. You, er..." Jon feels a heat bloom across his face wholly unrelated to the hot springs. "You certainly have a... variety available. Garment-wise." There's a long pause. "I'm sure Amelia will appreciate that."

Whether she asks or not, Wolfe is certain at least Chris will hold her accountable, even if Wolfe is too soft and Jon will decide its not his place. Its a comfort, especially because she's right. There's too much to get through first, and he suddenly can't tell if he's pushing this now because he's terrified of what he knows is coming for him. That's not fair to her.

He exhales, seeming to slump a little before gathering himself up and finding some still relatively clean part of his shirt with which to lean over and carefully wipe the mud from Amelia's face. It doesn't help a whole lot. "I'm sorry. I know its all too much and it hasn't been long. I shouldn't be badgering you."

His knees creak as he stands and he's forced to lean backwards with his hands pressing in at his lower back to crack it before he can stand comfortably and offer a hand down to her. "Let's have a proper bath and I'll get some stew on so you can do whatever you need to feel better, alright? Even if it's help me with chores."

Because that's probably what it will be, knowing Amelia as he does, and ignoring the cruel part of himself that whispers she probably won't want to stay near after he tried yet again to force her into some sort of revelation for his own ego.

Edited (backwards.) 2025-11-01 19:26 (UTC)

Her poor love. He's tired and aching in ways she can hear, and it breaks her heart as she pushes down her own struggles. She leans into the touch to her face, trying not to cry or tear up. It's not his fault she's like this; it's her own fears and insecurities. She wishes she could tell him that right now, but... but it doesn't matter. They need to keep moving, to stop lingering in something they can do nothing about until after they're in the Weave.

"That sounds like a good way to spend the afternoon." Doing something with her hands feels like the best thing she could do, after she's clean enough to not leave a trail throughout the temple. She takes his offered hand and rises to tuck herself against him, not caring about the spread of mess between them. What does it matter when they can clean it off later?

She smiles up at him, soft and tired, and squeezes his hand. "I'm ready when you are, love. Let's get all this meat inside and then soak for a while."

Edited 2025-11-01 19:50 (UTC)

What's changed? He'll be himself, without what he's meant to do...and he's not even sure what that means or who that is...but that isn't a new fear or a new question. Five and a half years ago, or only six months ago here, he'd asked himself that same question and felt the overwhelming enormity of anything and anyone suffocate him. He might be older and wiser than that version of himself now, but it still wasn't a question he could answer.

Instead, there's talk of washing up and clothing, and he lets the distraction bury the existentialism once more. He smiles, his too-sharp teeth not helping the predatory nature of it.

"Oh, no, love...you'll find some of those are shaped for your hips, not hers...there's some for Wolfe too. You can't tell me your enjoyment of those things was only for Duplicity; most of the time, no one but me knew what you were wearing under your scholar's clothes." He leans in and presses kisses down Jon's cheek to his neck. "I still like being the only one who knows."

But first, he carefully runs his talons through Jon's hair to get water along his scalp. Just in time for the sound of the door opening and Little Thunder's ragged squawk to break the peace ahead of the other half of their group.

Some part of him had known, but refused to acknowledge. Those things, that... interest had developed in Duplicity. So, it was a thing meant to stay in Duplicity. Maybe Amelia wouldn't notice. Jon prays to every god in the pantheon Wolfe doesn't, regardless of what the mage might prefer for himself. If he does indulge in something a bit less utilitarian for his undergarments here, he might actually die from embarrassment if either of them found out. It's bad enough they both know he has a penchant for pet play. Though, maybe they'll assume that's gone away with Duplicity, as well.

Hopefully.

"I, um..." The blush spreads from his cheeks as Jon tilts his head up, exposing more of his neck to his bastard boyfriend. What does he even say to that? To the idea of hidden lingerie and toys outside of a place designed around that sort of thing? It wouldn't be expected. It would be far more humiliating here than it ever could have been in Duplicity if they were found out.

His cock begins to stir, and Jon digs his nails into the siren's feathers, just as his hair is being stroked and the door opens. Why now? Why did they have to be done now.

Jon tries to push away from the siren and put a little distance between them so as not too seem too intimate in the water. In an effort to distract Wolfe and Amelia, he calls out in a somewhat strained voice. "If there's soap or shampoo in the showers, could you bring it here, please? We're in the springs getting cleaned up." And absolutely nothing else!

"In a moment," Wolfe calls back, sounding exhausted and a bit strained from the bounty he and Amelia are carrying in to the little kitchen Chris had made. He's not looking their direction, instead watching where he's going, but Jon's tone is an easy one to read. They'd interrupted something intimate by coming inside. A bit if jealousy blooms in Wolfe's chest but he tamps that down. He's hardly deserving of such attentions right now, even if he wants them.

He helps Amelia lay out what they've brought in and asks that she put a pot on the fire before kissing her on the cheek so he can part and grab the washing supplies for Jon. Padding over in still-bare feet, the soles stained with mud even if he's not leaving a trail of it, Wolfe resists the urge to toss the bar of soap and instead hands it over. Beside them he leaves one of the shampoo bottles he'd pilfered from the shower as well.

Fuck but Chris is gorgeous spread out like that, wings at rest and tails shifting lazily in the hot water. He's got a much calmer expression too, which Wolfe is glad for on Chris' account but still unfairly envious of on his own.

"Enjoying yourselves? Careful not to get soap in your gills," he teases as if nothing is wrong, putting a hand on Jon's shoulder and leaning in to kiss the side of Chris' head through his curls. He pats Jon's shoulder companionably before letting go and starting back for the much needed shower, throwing his pants in the general direction of the laundry on his way with absolutely no modesty at all. He's too tired for that.

Amelia knows a deflect when she hears one and she's all too glad to let Wolfe take care of it. What interests Jon may or may not have aren't her concern right now when she doesn't want to apologize to Chris in front of him. Or to see him at all as the crisis of self she's still mired in refuses to stay down. Dreams, he's going to have another comment on that later, isn't he? She hopes to anything divine he can keep it to himself as she tries to keep herself reined in.

She marches past the bathing pair without looking at them even once, pausing only long enough outside the shower to toss down her boots and knives before disappearing into one of the stalls. Her clothes end up in a pile in the corner and if not for spotting her soap from Duplicity on a little shelf by the handle, she might've been on the floor under the water when Wolfe comes in. Or gets into the other stall. She... doesn't know if he'll want to be close to her right now after what she told him and how she reacted to his pressing about who and how and why she is the way she is.

Unkind thoughts, but what else is she to think when she's just. so. tired.

Whatever her partner's choice, she'll start washing slowly to be certain she gets all the blood off her hands and dirt from her hair. She needs to be clean if she's going to help with chores and that means taking her time with her cleansing.

He doesn't try to keep Jon close to him, mostly out of a fear of accidentally scratching him with his talons if he did, but he doesn't bother hiding his amusement over his poor partner's suffering.

He behaves himself nicely while the others come in beyond reaching his tails out to touch or wind around one of Jon's ankles, while his focus predominantly fixes on shifting his song to something of comfort, family, affection...something that could hopefully bring all of them a little calm or comfort while inside his hall.

Sharp green eyes sweep over Wolfe as soon as he can see him, assessing. Talons snag in Wolfe's pants irreverent of the fabric's safety. "That is hardly the sort of kiss I'm looking for, Adalwolfe Hawke." He purrs it with a touch of (gentle) threat below the words. "I think your lady can have you back in a moment."

The snag to his pocket has Wolfe startling slightly. Not unpleasantly, but more because he isn't sure where the boundaries are with Chris right now. He's not exactly sure where the boundaries are with anyone right now, including his own, but those sharp green eyes looking into him and the dangerous vibrato underlying Chris' words are decidedly positive.

"Apologies, My Siren. I thought I might still be too offensive having only rinsed in lake water," Wolfe replies in kind, with a grin and a cocked eyebrow. It's a little put on to cover what remains of his envy, but mostly genuine otherwise. He leans over the side of the spring again, this time bracing himself on the rock instead of Jon's shoulder, to plant a proper if relatively chaste kiss on Chris' lips. He's not sure how fire would be welcome right now in general, but sticking his tongue down Chris' throat directly in front of Jon's face would probably not be welcome, at least by Jon himself, even if Wolfe petulantly wants to. There's enough drama from the things they can't control, he doesn't need to add something he can.

He accepts the kiss, and a pleased ruffle ripples through his feathers, but he lets go of Wolfe soon after. Asked and provided, he wouldn't ask more when part of him was still mad about earlier.

"Good boy." He murmurs with that same voice the request had come in. When he speaks next, his voice is lighter, more gentle. "I'll not keep you longer from your shower. I'll help with the food when we're done here. Then you should look at the books I made, too."

And he'd need to grab his clothing he left outside, and look at that lighter once food was started.

The quiet apology for earlier doesn't get past Wolfe's lips when Chris calls him a Good boy. Instead, he feels a shudder roll down his back, as if someone had run the tip of their fingernail down his spine. His face feels warm and he scowls at Chris, though it has very little bite in it. Wolfe's really not sure what to make of that, but whatever apology he's going to make will definitely be later.

"Right. Yes. Well. I'll do that," Wolfe withdraws, flustered, and very glad he's still wearing pants as he retreats to the shower.

Starting the tap in the separate stall without thinking much other than needing to take care of a problem similar to last night, Wolfe does peek around into Amelia's before getting in the hot water, only allowing his head and shoulder to be in view. "I want you to know that were this literally any other time, I would join you in there, but I'm trying to be good and keep my hands on myself so, please, don't think it's because I don't want you."

That said, he disappears back around the stall divider. Then reappears again a moment later, much redder.

"To myself. Keep my hands to myself."

The Maker never struck him down but he kind of hopes these Gods do.

It's hard not to feel a little rejected when Wolfe doesn't even attempt to join her in the shower. She understands why and she would choose the same, but at least she'd have said something about it before disappearing into the other stall. He does after the fact and that helps, but not when she notices how flushed he is.

Again he won't take help. She pushes down her feelings about it and flashes him a brief smile before he disappears.

"I know it's not that, love. We have a lot to talk about before we're together again." She keeps her tone calm and light as she possibly can. "I'll be done in here in a moment. Can you hold out for a minute longer? I can get started on our clothes and distract the others once I'm out."

She can wait. Her feelings and worries can wait. She can choose to believe everything is fine between them, at least where sex is concerned, until he says otherwise.

Chris is certainly on a tear at the moment, and Jon can read the tension when the mage leans in for his kiss. He's a bit confused as to the why of it. Jealousy is a thing he knows it exists where Wolfe is concerned, but that doesn't appear to be the whole of it. He has siren tails wending around his feet as he fumbles a bit with the soap.

Wolfe looks to be as flustered as Jon feels when he departs, though, which is a small blessing. It means he's not the only one vulnerable to Chris and his wiles.

"It may be easier to clean you as a human. If that... matters. I can keep preening you, my hands are just... There's soap now. And that." He gestures with a soapy hand at the bottle of shampoo.

He flusters Wolfe more than he actually plans to and that’s…an interesting little thing. Something to discuss later, when they were ready.

His mage leaves for the showers where his siren ears can hear a little of the conversation even over the water, or perhaps because of…and he shifts back to just himself. His naked self.

“No you have a point. Besides, I don’t think my songs are helping right now. I tried to ease them outside too and it…didn’t work.” Or worked too well, possibly. It just felt like another tangle he didn’t want to deal with right now.

He moves back to Jon to lean into his space and against his side so his hair is within his Archivist’s reach.

“I don’t know what to do with them. We keep…stepping oddly around each other, I feel. Thank you for being the least complicated of my relationships for now.”

Jon will get a peck on some part of him for it.

Oh Gods that's right, they can probably hear.

"Thank you, Love. I'll do my level best," Wolfe agrees, still flushed to the neck, then disappears onto his side again. Everything feels so off now with everyone, and he's not used to having very little grasp of social nuance, especially with he knows and loves so well, but the throbbing between his legs is intensely urgent and it's all he can do to concentrate on holding on until he hears Amelia leave the shower. Thinking more deeply with the head actually on his shoulders is going to have to wait.

Fuck LIEs for making him second guess these urges. Even if they were still in Duplicity he wouldn't question if he was experiencing this through conditioning or not, but because of what they put him through...

Even that depressing thought isn't enough to sober him up. Frustrated and hating himself, he bites his lip and leans against the shower wall to wait.

She exhales a breath she'd been trying not to hold, grateful he doesn't press or ask anything. If he had... She shakes her head and turns off the water. Best not to think about how difficult a conversation that would be when she's still not recovered from the last.

"You're welcome. Don't rush for us - we'll all be here when you're ready to rejoin us." She doesn't attempt to touch him, see him, or speak to him any further before scooping up her clothes, finding a towel to wrap around herself, and step out to give Wolfe a little peace. Things are so wrong in so many ways that she can't choose and hold onto one long enough to get upset by it before the next vies for a chance at the top spot. Once again she finds herself wishing for things as a result: to not need so many heavy conversations, for the truth of what they are to not be real, to be through the worst of it so they can enjoy their freedom, to be stronger so she wouldn't look as rough on the outside as she feels inside.

Useless things, wishes, at least in the ways she needs them. She's so tired of wishing being the path she wants to take.

As she steps out of the shower and past the springs to the space for laundry, she grabs Wolfe's pants from the floor. His shirt is still outside, as are all of Chris' clothes and--

"Fuck." She sighs as she drops the clothes in her hands into the wash bin, then finally look at the other pair with an apologetic frown. Chris has... changed back. Was he still a siren when she came in? How didn't she notice? Something to worry about later.

Her eyes shift to Jon's briefly before she respectfully looks just over his head. "You'll want to avert your eyes for a few minutes. I'll need to step outside to grab our packs and everything else we left there before I start on the washing." The chore can be done while wrapped in a towel, thankfully. It's getting to it that's the trouble.

The crushing weight of guilt returns, constricting Jon's throat as Chris pecks him so sweetly. He should tell him about what happened with Amelia. But then what would that accomplish right now? It would upset Chris and Wolfe, it would almost certainly cause a row, and it would lead to both men fussing over Amelia when she's trying desperately to pull herself together under their combined onslaught of emotional turmoil.

No. No, the kinder thing, the more sensible thing, is to let it be for now, swallow his guilt and grab the shampoo to massage into Chris' scalp. "You say that while I'm scrubbing ink off my skin. But point taken." Play it off, act normally. He doesn't need to know right now.

When Amelia emerges from the shower, Jon has his fingers buried in Chris' curls as he takes care to both clean and soothe his boyfriend. She might see the remaining writing on his arms, though there's not as much of it now, and his tattoos on one arm likely obscure it. Thankfully, she doesn't hold eye contact for long.

"Sure. I should be finished with Chris soon. Uh... While you're out there, could you fetch Chris' clothes, please? You don't... I can wash my own things, as well."

He keeps his eyes closed as Jon works his hair and he tries to keep his mind focused on the pleasant touch instead of letting his frustration sink back in when Amelia returns. What would it help? She’d just do as she always did and break down and blame herself and not do anything to work towards being better but self-deprecating and making promises she wouldn’t actually honor when the time came.

A vision of a different rogue with lighter hair and eyes comes to mind with the thought and he quickly buries it. He’s in no mood to compare his- who he’d thought was his previous fiancé with his shadow mistress.

“There’s temporary clothes you can change into in the last smaller room when you come back in, that way all the real clothes can be washed and kept clean while we’re here. I’ll start cooking what’s been caught once I’m dressed myself. Thank you, love.”

He can offer that much at least. She was still that, even with everything.

When he’s rinsed, he turns to do the same for Jon and to help by scrubbing the remaining ink himself with gentle, quiet, and carefully unreflective diligence.

Its been a long time since Wolfe has worried about being quiet when taking himself in hand. Actually, its been a long time before yesterday that he'd needed to do so at all given the drive of his partners, but he does a decent job of silence even when he comes. The shower may not be the most comfortable place for it but its certainly easier to clean up.

He's calmer when he steps out of the shower, a little less distracted and a little more ready to handle whatever comes next. He'd not really been cognizant of how worked up he'd gotten but now that its out of his system, his thoughts turn to what he can do for his people. He's been wretched this whole morning other than preparing the meat, letting his emotional mess bleed out on Chris and Amelia alike. Chris had asked for it, to be fair, but Amelia hadn't and Chris' annoyance at Wolfe's actions at the lake didn't help matters either. So once he's dressed in a billowing shirt and tightwr trousers from the wardrobe, he takes his penance in chores.

Cooking, cleaning, laundry, whatever of that his partners will let him help with at any rate. There's still less to do than he'd like but there's more than what little was required for daily life in Duplicity. No washing machine so clothes had to be agitated by hand. No dryer so they wrung them out and hung them up. The cooking is more like Duplicity though, with a sink for water and the fire magically maintained, so the work does run out eventually.

"Is there anything else I can help with?" Wolfe asks again for what's probably the fourth time. He has some ideas of other things of use he can do, but he wants to make double sure he's not needed otherwise first. And he has under no circumstances asked any prying or otherwise difficult emotional questions.

Chores feel like the only useful thing Amelia's been able to do today. Between hunting game and doing as much laundry as had been allowed, it's basically nothing, but it's still better than the way she's thrown every bit of emotion and messy thought onto the others. She hates that there's nothing else to do, but her weapons are ready for the Shadowfell and she can't cook. She didn't bring anything to embroider, either, so she sits at one of the tables with her pack, checking each of her knives for the dozenth time.

Rather than chastise Wolfe for asking again if there's something to do, she gestures to the seat beside her. "We could talk battle plans for tomorrow, if everyone is willing. You can choose a few of my knives for yourself, if you'd like." Although, as she thinks on it and looks over the bunch...

Her lips pull downward. "What did they confiscate from you when they took you? Any weapons we'll need to replace when we have the coin?" If her search of Shadows' Rest before leaving Duplicity told her anything, she already has one knife to replace something he lost. Unless the feather dagger ended up at Marzipan Terrace somehow? She doubts it, and if her hunch is true, he can have the second one she has. It's not as if 'her' Aloïs still exists to take it back.

With Amelia and Wolfe both eager to help with chores and Chris cooking, Jon is left at something of a loose end once Chris has finished with his hair and he's rinsed off. He does avail himself of the wardrobe for the clothes the cleric has created, and he spends far more time than he should working up the nerve to snag some of the lingerie to wear beneath the loose breeches and shirt he picks out. Jon knows he's the only one who's gone through all the clothes. No one else will be the wiser. Except Poppet, perhaps, and she's happily rolling about in the shreds of scarf that remain from her personal feast.

Once out, he heads to the books and pulls one down. While the rest are cleaning and cooking, Jon studies. For the moment, he can read Common, but he tries to hone in on the letters and the words, themselves, committing them to memory as he sounds the words out under his breath in a tongue that feels both natural and foreign thanks to Duplicity's odd translation effect.

By the time Amelia suggests battle plans and asks about weapons, Jon is hyper-focused. He has enough awareness to glance over at her and shrug. "I have the cane Wolfe gave to me, but it's..." He glances down at the text, and tries to respond the rest of the way in Common, feeling foolish and extremely stilted as he knows what he's saying and that it's not entirely right. "It is one. It is not more than one."

Once he’s out of the springs and dressed in far more loose clothing than he’s usually worn the last few years -something more befitting a modest cleric- he sets to collecting and preparing the food. Red meat for the flame, fish set to dry and stew, both. He still lacks for the vast array of spices he’d gotten used to having at hand in Duplicity, but this would taste better than the bland, conjured, food.

By the time questions of tactics arise, he’s plated some of all but the drying fish for his family and sets the plates near each of them in turn.

Whatever thoughts he was going to offer, pause for Jon’s stumbled attempt at Common. Despite the rough execution, Chris smiles.

“Needs polish, but not bad for a first attempt! I know what you’re getting at, anyway.”

He returns to the kitchen to fetch everyone water as he continues.

“I intended to leave a Guardian with Jon and Wolfe, it will attack anything that comes near them. Light might also dissuade them, depending on what type of undead they are. I don’t…actually know. I’ve never dealt with something that comes out of a Darkland.”

He settles in to join them once everything has been handed out and runs the backs of his fingers along his chin in thought.

“Topher said we don’t have to kill them all, just enough, so planting ourselves somewhere and luring the undead to us might work for a time.”

Edited 2025-11-02 17:13 (UTC)

"Just my boot knife and my device, though the knife was the one you gifted me. I had a mind to find it once I broke out but I found you first and escape seemed the more prudent option," Wolfe answers Amelia, plopping into the seat beside her and planting an affectionate kiss to her shoulder, then looking at Jon to try and parse what he said.

"Once we've eaten, we should study together." Or Jon should help him, is probably what he should ask. He'd gotten somewhat better about it at the Sanctuary but he's usually best with someone to bounce off of and Jon so likes to feel superior. Might as well give him that.

"For battle plans, I don't know what we can really plan until we know what the situation looks like. I have my staff, which is at least range if anything gets past Chris' Guardian, and I do have my magic if its between that or death." He puts his hand up before anyone protests. "I'm not keen on running my well dry without dire reason so I promise I won't use it unless its to save our lives."

That stated, whether he still gets disbelieving protests or not, Wolfe tucks into his meal. Still maybe a little bland for lack of spices but its a far cry richer than the food from the day before. He'll take it.

"What sort of zombies are we going to be facing? Mindless shambling undead or something else?" There are a lot of different kinds, as he learned in both the Fleet and Duplicity. "Do we need to take care not to get bitten or we might turn ourselves?"

Edited (typos and word choice) 2025-11-02 17:46 (UTC)

Jon's attempt at Common is clumsy, but in a way that shows he has a basic understanding of the language and what he's trying to say. Amelia cracks a small smile but doesn't say anything, leaving the praise to Chris. The Archivist won't want to hear it from her anyway.

She holds her tongue about Wolfe's weapons as well. That will require a private conversation, considering the previous owner of the knife she wants to give to him. "I think Chris' plan to lure them to us for a while is a good place to start, especially if we can find a defensible position. I have enough knives that I can spare one or two for each of you," she looks at Jon and Wolfe in turn, "in case of emergency and keep the rest to myself. I have reach with my slingshot, though I'll need to hunt for some proper rocks for it before we leave." An easy task along the shore of a lake.

Her attention turns to Chris to hear his answer to the mage's question. She doubts it'll change their plans at all, but it would be good to know what they're likely to be up against. To occupy herself while she listens, she pulls her plate closer, offers a nod and a mouthed 'thanks' to the cleric, and takes a few bites. It's better than the conjured bread she managed to eat this morning and she's grateful for that. If she has to eat, and she knows she does, better there be some taste to it to keep her interested in the act.

Jon grimaces to himself at Chris' mild praise. He knows it's meant kindly, but the Archivist is used to being able to articulate himself and use a more complex vocabulary than most. While he's not starting from complete scratch thanks to his loose efforts to learn Common after Duplicity's auto-translation had failed, he knows he's still a novice and will likely sound it for some time to come. Unless being woven into the Weave might come with that basic knowledge.

Maybe they could negotiate something with Mystra.

It's a thought he files away for later as he closes the book and sits up to pick at the food he's been given. It's more meat than he might usually look for, but it's not like he's been out gathering berries and vegetables from the forest. The realization that his dietary options are going to be incredibly restricted here compared to even back home hits him very suddenly. They're in the cold north. Any 'exotic' fruits and vegetables are almost certainly a luxury.

Jon frowns to himself as he listens before chiming in with, "How many is 'enough?' That wasn't made particularly clear. Half a dozen? A hundred? Will a bell go off when we're finished?" He knows he shouldn't be snarky about this being very... fantasy, but he can't entirely help himself.

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