Night had fallen completely by the time Wynessa was ready to leave the library, having returned the book to the great stone desk and its keepers. As she moved to leave the library, a commotion in the main hall made her stop dead in her tracks. A familiar voice called for a healer, and as she glanced out into the entrance way she saw Miklian carrying an elvish woman who looked to be injured.
Thoughts flew to her mind about why he would be taking responsibility for this woman. Perhaps he had fallen on top of her and injured her? Or caused a horse to trample her?
After a split second, her mind went back to their first meeting and the rumours about his "odd tastes." Suddenly the most logical answer in her mind was that this woman, this elf, was a prostitute for giants that he had somehow injured while partaking of her services.
Disgusted, she moved along the wall towards the storage rooms where her belongings were, but as she moved she could feel his gaze on her. She didn't care. She couldn't care. Not about him. They would be going different directions as soon as she left the city. No, she couldn't care about a reckless damnable giant who kept secrets from her and obviously hurt people.
People like her.
People like the elf woman who was carried away on a stretcher by a pair of larger monks towards what she assumed was the medical wing of the temple.
Wynessa couldn't help herself, she had to know what had happened. As soon as she retrieved her things, she stepped back into the entranceway in time to hear Miklian's explanation as to what had happened. Just as quickly as her mind had assumed his guilt, she was flooded with guilt of her own. She had been so quick to confirm her own bias that she was ready, so ready, to let him be the offending party.
What if she hadn't been there to hear the truth?
Wynessa moved out into the cool night air and shut her eyes for a moment, breathing in the humid air that came off the river and listening to the city and the heavy steps behind her.
"Can... Can we talk?" Her giant asked from behind her.
"Yeah. Let's go sit down and talk out of the way of the door." She sighed, stepping towards the corner of the stairs and setting her things down, plopping down on the cold stones and wrapping her arms around her pack and apple crate. They sat for a few minutes, just sitting beside one another until he broke the silence.
"You heard what happened?"
"Yes. You did the right thing."
"But it still happened. If I hadn't been there, that woman could be dead right now. If I hadn't stopped him, she would have been-..." He stopped midsentence and could not bring the words to bear.
"But you were there. You did stop him. It sounds like you even gave the victims a way to fight back." She was still so angry with him, she was still furious that he had lied to her. So why was it so difficult for her to see him upset like this? They sat in silence, listening to the night of the city before he spoke up again.
"Do you have a place to stay? I don't know if anywhere is still going to have open rooms at this time of night." His question was innocent enough, but Wynessa's mind drifted back again to when she had threatened his life, when she had straddled his neck in the same way she had straddled men's hips. She made herself blush with just the thought of this giant, this kind, sweet, infuriating giant wanting her.
"I suppose you're right. I should have found lodging before seeking worship."
"Did you find what you needed though?"
"Yeah... I think I did."
"Good." He paused, trying to buck up his courage, but before he could speak-
"Would it be alright if I stayed with you tonight? I'll find my own place tomorrow morning first thing." The words tumbled from her lips until she turned her face away from his gaze to hide the blush that covered her face under the hooded cloak.
All he could do was nod.
Timias sat uncomfortably in the grand room staring up at a larger-than-life portrait that hung on the delicately painted wall. The seven people in the painting glared down at him, disapproval even in death as he listened to the quiet crackling of the fire.
A young man in delicately tailored clothing sat on a couch nearby, lounging as he snapped his fingers in the air denoting a desire for more wine which was quickly procured and poured by an equally young man with cut ears. This servant boy's ears had been cut probably long before his work in this manor began, but the jagged line that had healed in their place still sent nausea coursing through Timias's gut.
"Cousin, I know it has been quite some time. Thank you again for being so kind as to allow me to stay for a short while." The half-elf smiled cordially to the one whose home he sat in, rejecting politely the offer for more drink.
"Not at all. After all, Ahma wishes to see you again." The suave gentleman replied, implying Timias had no say in the matter and would be seeing their grandmother before he would be allowed to leave.
"Ah, yes. Lovely." The shorter cousin was an outsider to the majority of the family for many reasons, but his looks were the most obvious one. Where most of the family had dark brown or black hair, Timias was graced with dirty blonde locks from his father's side. Similarly, he was far shorter than all of his relatives on his mother's side, including the one who stood and straightened his jacket.
"Good night, cousin. I trust you will find the room to your liking. We left it just the way you did." The final words of the dark-haired man were laced with displeasure as he strode gracefully from the room. The servant boy quietly shut the door behind him before bringing a tray over to their guest whereupon sat a small bundle of letters.
"Please forgive the young master, sir. He has had a hard time of it since his father passed. Becoming the new Lord Le Muur has been trying on him." The boy with the cut ears spoke softly and respectfully, but his demeanour was far less afraid than he had been moments before. Timias smiled softly, reaching a hand out to pat the boy's arm.
"You've done very well for yourself, my boy. How is your sister?" His voice had softened considerably once his cousin was gone and he graciously accepted the package of letters addressed to him.
"She is well enough, sir. Back to working in the bakery. Best pastry chef they've ever had, Yamei says."
"I believe it. Xipan was the favourite for good reasons. I am still so sorry for causing her dismissal." Glancing at the notes in his hand, Timias moved to untie the string holding the bundle together while the young man gathered the cups and generally cleaned the room. "I didn't know Harl could write! This is wonderful! Who taught him?"
"Xipan, of course. You used to say she'd make such a grand teacher if she wasn't so in love with bread, so she thought she'd give it a try. Old man Harl wasn't such a great student though, so she's said she��s never teaching again." Both of the boys laughed gently before a comfortable silence permeated the room. The young man gathered the last of the dishes and made to leave the room, pausing when he heard his name.
"Caito, have you ever thought about leaving this place? Getting a job elsewhere, maybe even leaving the city entirely? Your sister is a marvelous baker, I am very certain she could start a bakery on her own if you were to help her with it. You could take her kids with you and start fresh somewhere new." Timias mused, though the words held heavy meaning behind them.
He knew Riviera was not safe anymore from the moment he had passed the gate.