pandakatiefominz
Wraith
"She was off in the town again last night, chatting with the sailors by the docks," An elven woman with tied up, nut-brown hair said, while stirring the pot on the fire. She was only one of seven young women working the small, mostly-empty inn, all talking with each other as they went about their chores, "Lilly, come and taste this."
A younger woman, who wore her brown hair loose around her shoulders scampered over, leaving the rag she was using to clean the tables behind, "I don't know why ye can't just stay at home, Rosie, there are plenty of fine lads here in town."
"Don't let Lilly taste it, Cyinth, she finds water too flavorful, she'll ruin it," The only blonde squeaked, hurrying away from the counter, to take over the cooking. She threw in spices without tasting, and added, "Ain't nothing wrong with her running off. Everybody has dreams. And you know she isn't flirting with them, she's just trying to learn stories. It's mostly harmless."
A brunette who picked up the rag her sister left behind said, "It's harmless until she's too tired to do her work in the morning, and we've got to pick up the slack."
"Oh, come on, Mari," An exact copy of the one called Lilly said, who stopped cleaning tables to also taste the stew, "as if we don't have to pick up your chores when you spend the night with Faendal," she turned to the blonde, "Gosh, Poppy, you really work wonders with that."
"At least Faendal is from here in Banbridge. He isn't from god-knows-where doing god-knows-what with god-knows-who. And get back to work, Calla. We don't need everybody playing Goldilocks with the stew."
"I don't know why you bother tryin' to get through to Rosie, nothing's going to stay her. She wants to go runnin' off, and that's that. Not that I can blame her. You're all wastin' your breath tryin," said the sister who was busy collecting empty cups and bottles, "She isn't even listenin' now. She's got 'er 'ead in the clouds."
"I'm listening," Rose said. She was leaning against the wall, with her elbow propped up on her broom, "I'm just not attending."
"Well start attending!" Snapped the first woman, wiping her hands on her apron, "People will start coming in at any minute, and you've got this place looking like a stable!"
Not that if anybody did come in they'd notice them. They were all too busy squabbling, daydreaming, or both. Rose looked from the door to the window and back again, hoping desperately that someone interesting would come along. Mostly the McGann Inn only served the farmers and miners of Banbridge after the end of another long day, but once in awhile someone else would come along. Sometimes a priest on the way to make a pilgrimage somewhere, or someone to come to sell a cow, and, on the rarest of occasions, a traveler. Those were her favourites, even if her father claimed they were the most dangerous. He never sent them away, because he never sent anyone away, but he was certainly wary of them. The man thought for sure they'd cart one of this daughters away. The fear seemed irrational, if it wasn't for how desperately Rose wanted just that.
The best of them asked for work or rumors, and for the first time in her life, she had something other than a wolf to direct them towards.
A younger woman, who wore her brown hair loose around her shoulders scampered over, leaving the rag she was using to clean the tables behind, "I don't know why ye can't just stay at home, Rosie, there are plenty of fine lads here in town."
"Don't let Lilly taste it, Cyinth, she finds water too flavorful, she'll ruin it," The only blonde squeaked, hurrying away from the counter, to take over the cooking. She threw in spices without tasting, and added, "Ain't nothing wrong with her running off. Everybody has dreams. And you know she isn't flirting with them, she's just trying to learn stories. It's mostly harmless."
A brunette who picked up the rag her sister left behind said, "It's harmless until she's too tired to do her work in the morning, and we've got to pick up the slack."
"Oh, come on, Mari," An exact copy of the one called Lilly said, who stopped cleaning tables to also taste the stew, "as if we don't have to pick up your chores when you spend the night with Faendal," she turned to the blonde, "Gosh, Poppy, you really work wonders with that."
"At least Faendal is from here in Banbridge. He isn't from god-knows-where doing god-knows-what with god-knows-who. And get back to work, Calla. We don't need everybody playing Goldilocks with the stew."
"I don't know why you bother tryin' to get through to Rosie, nothing's going to stay her. She wants to go runnin' off, and that's that. Not that I can blame her. You're all wastin' your breath tryin," said the sister who was busy collecting empty cups and bottles, "She isn't even listenin' now. She's got 'er 'ead in the clouds."
"I'm listening," Rose said. She was leaning against the wall, with her elbow propped up on her broom, "I'm just not attending."
"Well start attending!" Snapped the first woman, wiping her hands on her apron, "People will start coming in at any minute, and you've got this place looking like a stable!"
Not that if anybody did come in they'd notice them. They were all too busy squabbling, daydreaming, or both. Rose looked from the door to the window and back again, hoping desperately that someone interesting would come along. Mostly the McGann Inn only served the farmers and miners of Banbridge after the end of another long day, but once in awhile someone else would come along. Sometimes a priest on the way to make a pilgrimage somewhere, or someone to come to sell a cow, and, on the rarest of occasions, a traveler. Those were her favourites, even if her father claimed they were the most dangerous. He never sent them away, because he never sent anyone away, but he was certainly wary of them. The man thought for sure they'd cart one of this daughters away. The fear seemed irrational, if it wasn't for how desperately Rose wanted just that.
The best of them asked for work or rumors, and for the first time in her life, she had something other than a wolf to direct them towards.
