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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Wolfe looks at Amelia cautiously, wanting to ask if she does want to be associated with the Shadow Mistress here, but he expects that has a much deeper answer than either of them have the ability to go over right now. He'll save it for later.

"I think you should have some fun with it, though! Hawke's Feather, maybe?" He offers cheekily, setting her dish down before her. He leans down to murmur in her ear before moving on "Or Hawke's Heart?"

He's still grinning as he sets Chris and Jon's bowls down at their places as well, risking a kiss to the top of Chris' head, then sliding into his own seat with his food. It's nothing terribly fancy, but it's a passable soup, if bland. There's not a lot to work with. "They do have a market in Bastila, don't they? People do have to eat. Maybe Jon, maybe you could make sure we have some essentials while we're all off earning the rest of the coin."

He glances between Wolfe and Amelia, but looks away again as that irritation spikes and ebbs away.

Luckily, there’s food to distract him. Decent food for having little but fat to cook with.

“He’s right. You don’t have to stay at the fight if you’d rather not, they’ll keep your earnings for a day for you. There’s markets for locals were we can pick up a few basics, and you could scout out what they have and how much it’ll run us. Stick to absolute basics, though, no clothes. I don’t know the shops well enough to know the reputable ones.”

Jon just stirs his soup for a bit, pushing the meat around as the others talk. He's to be a glorified gofer, then. It's his ego getting to him, the Archivist knows that, but the voice in his head that whispers he's so much less than them and he needs to prove himself somehow to be considered competent enough for anything else, is there, hissing its poison. So, maybe he takes this as a chance to do more than they're expecting, show them. He needs to show them. Maybe not Chris, but Wolfe and especially Amelia. She's seen little of his abilities that aren't related to the Archivist. Just a failure of a Dominant and a man... and a monster.

"Fine. I'll make a list tonight of basics and find where we can pick them up in case we need to make a swift exit." And he'll figure out what else he can do to impress them when they get into town. He has to. This visit to the Shadowfell isn't going to do anything for him swaying opinions. "Should we wait on books, as well? Some sort of botany manual to help us identify things we can gather if we're going to be traveling for any measurable time might be good while we're still building our coffers."

Edited 2025-11-17 19:41 (UTC)

Her cheeks flush briefly, though she's quick to breathe through it. "Nothing quite so unique, thank you. I want to be forgettable outside my skills. A common name will do well for that."

She looks at the others at the table, briefly catching the look in Chris' face. She needs to talk to him. She needs to apologize and let him know what's been discussed and that things are getting better because she listened to him. He was right, as he often is, and he needs to know that. But it has to wait, no matter how much she fears it will come too late.

She keeps the thoughts as close to her chest as she can manage between bites of soup. "At least one book would be good to have. Even if it's overpriced, the contents will more than make up the difference in cost." If it's that overpriced, she can steal the difference from the merchant as well.

Chris doesn't react to him much other than to agree. Its disappointing but honestly, its unfair of Wolfe to expect anything else. He's had a very emotional day and that sort of thing sedates any outward expression in Chris when he's overwhelmed, or at least that's what Wolfe's noticed over the years. Its a way he processes, and so Wolfe settles in his own place without comment on it.

"We should be alright on clothes for a day or two given what Chris returned with. Amelia's already sorted it out for what will fit who with her alterations. Also counted the coffer. It's a little under ten gold, which should stretch pretty far even if we use a bit for gambling. It's a shame we can't use our magic about this though, Jon could Know what our opponents are thinking before the match and give us an edge."

Normally he wouldn't suggest something so unsporting but this is survival for them right now.

"You'll want to be memorable enough to be fun to root for, but forgettable enough that no one cares after the next day." He offers to Amelia and focuses on his dinner for the rest, though the question about a book gets a nod.

"We might be able to afford something, depending on how much we all get. Books run ten to fifteen gold on average, more or less, depending. An empty journal will be a bit cheaper. Under ten as long as it's not magic or fancy."

They'll figure out how much everything costs when they start shopping, but he might as well set that expectation now.

"And forget coffee or chocolate for now. Honey, fruit, and cloves'll be your sweets option. Sometimes cinnamon."

He does offer a small smirk to Wolfe at least, along with a shake of his head. "They'd catch us, as clever as it would be. They monitor for magic use in the stands and on the field. Though I do wonder if you and Jon would be noticeable to them."

Ten to fifteen gold for a single book seems outrageous. Jon is about to say as much, but he considers what he knows of how one actually makes paper. There's probably a whole thing about it here when they're in a pre-industrial society. It's the coffee that pains him the most out of everything, though. He can't help his frown deepening from a moment. It won't take long for whatever stores they have to run out. There should be tea, at least. That can't cost an arm and a leg... can it?

While he feels connected to this place in a metaphysical sense, his irritation gives way to the sense that he's missed a step as his gaze drifts to the 'laundry' set up. He's always hung his clothes to dry, but he's never in his life washed anything without a laundry machine or taking it to the dry cleaner.

Chris, Wolfe, and Amelia are all used to this. They'll see it as a return to the standard. Regrettable, but manageable. Jon focuses down on the soup, eating a few bites and keeping quiet. He hadn't even managed to finish building a fire. His survival skills are pathetic. His fighting skills are barely passable. And now he's going to struggle with just... daily life.

Maybe he could just watch the others do their chores 'the old-fashioned way,' pick it up from that. He's far too proud to ask them to teach him how to do something so basic.

"No books for now. Noted."

Amelia nods to Chris' suggestion for a name and sets the discussion for now. She'll figure out something when they're on their way to the city. Her thoughts are better focused on preparations for tomorrow.

Her eyes flick to Jon briefly when Chris mentions a ban on coffee. There's something in his expression that makes her wonder what's going through his head, but she doesn't know him well enough to guess what it may be. He'd mentioned needing coffee, but that doesn't feel like it would be all of it. Even if it was, she's not in any position to ask about it. He made that abundantly clear in the woods and with his shouting at her earlier here in the temple. She pushes aside her vague curiosity for a little teasing of her mage.

"We should find some fresh baked bread while we're at it. Someone here has been missing it and it would go very well with the stew he's made for us." A beat as she smirks at Wolfe. "And be delightful with a little bit of honey if he needs some sweets."

Wolfe shrugs to Chris, a bit playfully in his resignation to not using magic to get a leg up for their moneymaking endeavor. He didn't expect they'd be able to anyway.

"I think everyone could benefit from fresh bread! Its a staple," he counters with all the energy of sticking his tongue out at her but without the actual motion. "The lack of coffee will hurt but it was too good to last. We'll have to return to tea in the morning."

He eats some of his food, taking note of Jon's deeper than usual frown. That set of his shoulders usually means he's feeling inferior in some way, and given the slant of the conversation, Wolfe can take an educated guess as to why. He's not about to call the man out in the middle of dinner, but Wolfe expects these first few months may be a struggle for their 'modern' friend on some very basic skills. They're going to have to find a way to work around his pride to teach him. Or he'll go the hard way and try to learn by himself without help, which would be very silly but par for the course for Jon.

"I'm going to need to exercise a bit after dinner, I think. If we're going to fight tomorrow and the next day after for different causes, I'll need to at least start getting back into shape. I have an idea on turning it into a study exercise too, Jon, if you'll help me." There are, of course, other conversations that need to be had too, and Wolfe will allow Amelia and Chris the space to have them if thats something they're set on tonight. He hadn't missed Amelia regarding Chris as thoughtfully as she did.

By and large, it seems what preparation and talks need doing for Bastila are done for now and he knows his scholar well enough to know that set of his jaw isn’t one words can soothe just now. Tomorrow is the Shadowfell first and he still has preparation to do, laundry, and possibly a conversation or two. He drains the rest of his bowl sans spoon and stands to take the dish to the kitchen to start cleaning up.

“Sounds a smart idea for the evening. Thank you again for dinner, love.”

He passes back by each of them to deposit kisses to their heads on his way to finish up the laundry.

It would give him something for his hands while he still turned the day and the ones to come over in his mind. He needed to pick his ball of emotion apart or bury it well and good for later so he ensured he had a clear head for tomorrow. They’d be relying on him to remember the signs of threats that he’d only experienced once nearly six years ago.

Edited 2025-11-18 06:13 (UTC)

Jon makes a noncommittal sound when Wolfe addresses him. The petty part of him wants to withdraw, to hide in the little study and not come out until he's mastered Common or at least the new book Chris had given them. That's not really an option given they do have places to go and things to do, but the impulse is still there. There's also the fact that practicality says studying with someone is likely to be more effective and Wolfe needs to learn Common just as much as he does.

After a moment, he shrugs. "Fine." He knows he's marking himself as being in a foul mood with the curt responses, but that, at least, he can't help for now. If he lets his tongue run away, he might start snapping at everyone, and there needs to be less of that. Especially when Amelia would almost certainly make herself a target by dint of not being Chris or Wolfe.

The Archivist has manners enough to stop playing with his food and actually make an effort to eat it as Chris comes around to offer a gentle kiss. While he wants to be mollified, he's... not. Better to keep holding his tongue. Once Jon's committed, though, he finishes quickly and rises to wash the dish before moving to lean against one of the walls and watch Chris while he waits for Wolfe to be ready. While he tries to make it look casual, his staring is intense as he marks the washboard and scrubbing. It doesn't seem difficult, at least, just incredibly tedious.

The group splits apart with various levels of nonchalance and upset, and it takes everything in Amelia not to sigh until after both Chris and Jon are out of earshot. The cleric at least seems in a decent mood given the kiss to her head, but Jon? It certainly seems like something bit him on the ass.

"And I didn't even say anything to him this time," she murmurs, shaking her head. It's clear she understands it's not her fault this time, but also that she's not about to interrogate it. She just doesn't have the energy right now.

She has another few bites of soup before turning a smile to Wolfe. "Before you start your practice with Jon, I'd like you to try on the pants and let me get some measurements. With any luck I won't need to interrupt you more than once or twice before they're finished." It all depends on how well they fit to start.

"Of course," Wolfe smiles at Chris, accepting his praise and his kiss graciously, which for him includes a pleased look and a spring in his step when he gets up to clear the table once they're all finished eating. He's still rinsing everything off when Amelia, now alone at the table, mutters about Jon's mood.

"Don't take it to heart, Love. He's just frustrated. Without his powers, he doesn't see how useful his brain is going to be for all the things he's going to have to get used to." Wolfe drops his voice even further, though he wasn't being particularly loud to begin with. "Or how necessary he is for Chris' well being. Mine too, at that. Honestly I think we all could focus a little more on what we mean to each other instead of what service we can provide."

He doesn't make that point at her, instead encompassing the lot of them, himself included. Its a flaw they all share, and will likely warrant a greater conversation in future, but for now he let's it go at that. "That said, there is still plenty to do, especially adjusting those trousers. Matron knows I don't want to face a zombie horde without pants. Should I put them on now?"

Edited (typo) 2025-11-18 19:18 (UTC)

He's elbow-deep in lightly soaped water, his sleeves rolled up to the shoulder on both arms, when he notices Jon watching with that sour look on his face.

"You want to come closer? I can show you how to do it. It's a little finesse, but not too difficult once you know how."

Jon clearly wanted to learn but didn't want to ask, the best way to handle that was to treat him a touch like a skittish animal.

"I know how to wash things," Jon snaps, arms tightening around himself for a moment, but he does step closer. "I've seen these sorts of things in old films." Women in the background scrubbing on a washboard, sometimes into a bucket, sometimes beside a river. "I'm just- I just wonder how you go about it with more delicate things. I assume there's some sort of careful process that differs from the standard."

His hovering is over Chris' shoulder now, rather than at a distance. And if Chris continues to work while explaining, then Jon can observe more easily how one does the 'standard' washing, as well.

She could disagree with him about what she should be focusing on, but she doesn't want to have that fight. It's easier to breathe after throwing her knives for over an hour and their talk earlier, but she's still so on edge that she could run into the waning light and not be back for hours. Avoiding any temptation for that is best.

"Yes please. I need to see them on you before I start." She hurries to finish her soup as he pulls on his newly acquired pants, rinsing her bowl and her hands before putting the needle and one bobbin of thread on the table next to her knives. She's going to need one of those to cut fabric.

"Move around a little once they're on. Nothing too strenuous, mind, but enough that I can see how they move with you."

Wolfe almost tells her 'yes, Mistress,' with his tongue firmly in his cheek, but decides that's probably not a good idea if they're not going to even be talking about this until after the Shadowfell tomorrow. And honestly, he very much wants to talk first. With both of them. And probably not do anything with one or the other of them individually first, but that bears more discussion too. So with a mock-salute in lieu of snarky banter, Wolfe promptly divests himself of the loose trousers from the wardrobe and slips into the hand-me-downs.

They're too loose in the waist, he's relieved to find, but the cut is at least forgiving enough that that's probably all that needs taken in. They're too short as well, of course, but thats to be expected and they're at least still long enough to tuck into the tops of his boots.

With a grin, Wolfe does a little shimmy to satisfy her requirement to move around in them. "How's this?"

Edited (autocorrect needs to stop correcting words that are already words) 2025-11-19 05:29 (UTC)

“Ah, of course.” He says it gently instead of pointing out that, aside from Jon’s documentaries, rarely had Chris seen a reliable movie. Nor one that likely focused on the finer points of washing.

“For more delicate things, you simply rub your fingers over the fabric in the suds. Try to avoid running the fabric against itself unless you know it’s hardy enough to take it or unless it’s got stains to remove.”

He fetches Amelia’s shirt from the murky depths and its faded bloodstains from yesterday.

“See, this needs a bit more work, but it’s not too delicate a fabric, so I’ll need to run it over the agitators here a few more times.”

He demonstrates by pressing the fabric of one of the worst spots along the smoothed ridges of the washboard.

“Once we have real soap, I’ll show you the proper ratios, your washing machines were useful but used so much soap fir arguably so little dirt.”

He looks over to Jon with his lopsided smile. “But I’m sure you know all that. Just reminding myself after so long.”

Not that it was true, but it had been some time since he’d actually washed his own or anyone else’s clothes like this. Maybe a decade.

The idea of having to touch clothes that have unmentionable substances on them instead of just spraying them down with a stain remover and tossing them in the wash is painful. "People like to keep their things clean, and it's not just dirt anyone was worrying about in Duplicity. Get a black light, and I'm sure the whole place would have glowed brighter than an irradiated swamp." God only knows the what fluids they came in contact with daily just from existing out in the world. It's a wonder Jon hadn't become a complete hypochondriac, washing himself after every excursion from the house.

"Are there... sanitation facilities in most cities? I know you said you had plumbing in Deismyr, but-but most people know about washing their hands as much as their clothes. Right?" If not, soap might be another exorbitant expense.

Even as he talks, Jon continues to watch Chris closely.

Short and loose in the waist isn't terrible considering the trousers fit everywhere else without being too tight or so loose that they're falling off him everywhere. They'll do for the few days that they're needed, though if they fall apart for one reason or another before they're done in Bastila she won't put any blame on Wolfe. And she'll take the money for a new pair out of anything she earns while they're in town.

Chuckling softly, she puts her hands on his hips to still him. "Perfect. Now hold still while I measure or these will be uncomfortable when the time comes." She pinches the fabric at the waist on one side and then the other, judging with her fingers how much to take them in on either side. It's enough fabric that she has a brief idea to make this easier for them both in the long run.

"Hold a moment longer, please." She rushes to the table and back, retrieving the needle, thread, and one knife. Two quick cuts gets her enough thread to throw a few loose stitches down the side of his each leg starting at the waist of the trousers to let her judge if she's taken in too much or too little fabric. It only takes her a minute or two and the stitches aren't meant to hold, but they're plenty for her to judge and for the most important test.

"Try a little movement now. A few steps and that little shimmy of yours again." Her smile barely contains her smirk as she looks up at him. "To test the pants, not for me. Tell me how they feel now, if they're too lose or too tight, and then I can take them and get started on the full alteration."

"Are you sure it's not for you?" Wolfe teases, wagging his hips again in a slower but more exaggerated fashion as he paces to and fro.

"Feels good to me. Not like they're slipping off anymore," he decrees, resisting the urge to say something about her slipping them off of him. Its not hard when hes half distracted by the weight of his own body. Even the little dances he's done feel awkward, and while the pants are still not tight in the least, with the waist where it should be it still feels to him like there's not as much room. Its a stupid thing but it makes him antsy to go exercise with Jon.

"Should I take them off now so you can work on them?"

Edited 2025-11-20 05:42 (UTC)

At that, Chris rolls his eyes. "Yes, Jon, we know to wash our hands and behind our ears even. There's bathhouses aplenty, as not all places have indoor plumbing, but all will have soap for washing up. We do know about diseases and the like, you know. When we get to Ilnivur, you can find the most recent edition of our medical sciences so you can compare."

He lets Amelia's bloodstained shirt drop back into the water to soak longer and retrieves one of the pieces that didn't need as much attention to demonstrate wringing the soapy water from it before taking it over to the rinsing station, where he pours clean water slowly over the shirt, then dunks it into a bowl of more clean water, wrings it out, and clips it up on the clothesline to dry.

"I admit, it's a lot more time-consuming. I might try and come up with something like a washing machine when we're in the temple, but if we're staying in a regular place, we'll need to remember the basics. Paying for someone else to do it won't be a luxury we can afford for a bit."

"I didn't ask to pay anyone." Jon pulls back a little, self-conscious of his own ignorance on so many fronts. He's going to end up asking a local a question that will make him look like a complete idiot.

"Thank you for letting me watch." The gratitude is softer, some of the bite going out of him as he looks to see Amelia flirting with Wolfe and finds himself reminded of the fact that he's feeling guilty. Guilty, inadequate, likely as not to mess up some of the most basic chores.

"Wolfe wanted me for something. I... I'll wash some of my own things when I come back in. Or finish up anything." And hope he doesn't somehow destroy what clothes they have remaining.

"If it were for me, I'd not have asked you to put any pants back on." Just to make that point very clear. Keeping her hands busy is appreciated, but she doesn't need it so much that she wouldn't have asked him to wait to try the new trousers on until after they'd had a different kind of fun. They're waiting, though, and so all this effort with pants on and pants off is entirely for Wolfe's benefit.

She leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Now, off with these so I can make alterations while I sit quietly beside Chris and see if he's ready to talk. You and Jon have practice and exercise to get to." There's no telling what the cleric will be up for when she sits close, but she needs to ask. She owes him several apologies and she will give them in whatever time he allows. Everything can wait until he's ready to deal with her shit again.

Her rejoined earns an indelicate laugh from him. That's she can go toe to toe with him verbally has always been delightful and he has to remind himself again that they're waiting for a reason.

With a grin in appreciation of her wit, he strips off the pants, putting his own back on with minimal reluctance, but not with much eagerness either. Its similar to this morning (Matron, was that just this morning?) with Topher. He was aware he didn't have any bottoms on, it just didn't matter. He feels like that should matter.

"Good luck, Love. He'll come around. Just don't be too down on yourself; he hears that as misdirection, trying to make him feel sorry for you instead of angry, even if that's not what you're doing. He knows, but it makes him angry anyway," Probably a little more than he should say, but they've been floundering about this for so long he has to say something. Chris certainly wont say anything directly.

With a kiss to her temple and a squeeze to her shoulder, Wolfe goes off to retrieve Jon from whatever soothing of their Archivist's frazzled ego he's attempting over laundry.

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