Once Father Drin had stopped being held back, he stood before Everett and glared down at her.
He gurgled indignantly at the base of his throat, and the sound made Everett feel like he was about to vomit on her out of spite.
Her thoughts swarmed ahead, and she was confused more then anything.
"Okay so let me get this straight," she hissed, shoving a bloodied hand into Father Drin's face to push him a few steps back, "You kidnapped me from the market cause I, admittedly idiotically, went to Kritana so I could get money for the bone rune I broke my leg trying to get, and want me to find something in a tomb for this super maybe old big blacksmith southern woman, and you'll give me... nothing in return? Tell me what part of that I'm supposed like?"
"You'll earn you place back under God's light, child!" Father Drin snapped.
Kritana huffed a breath in contempt of that statement.
"Father," Kritana chortled, "I saw inside her head. She couldn't care less about the temple- maybe we offer her something else she'd like? A bed full of women, perhaps?"
Father Drin paled at her joke, and rubbed his forefinger and thumb over the bridge of his nose to prevent himself from screaming at everyone in the room.
Eyelara snorted a short laugh, turning her head to the side and distracting Everett from her stinging nose for a second by inadvertently flashing the skin of her neck.
"Everett gets whatever she asks for. If it's women, I know a fair few brothel owners who would be more then happy to pay back their debts," Eylara grinned. She rubbed under her nose with a sniff, some of the dust of the room collecting in everyones lungs and breathing tubes making them feel like sneezing.
Everett coughed, "Who even are you, woman?!"
Eylara simply shrugged, and Kritana rolled her eyes before looking at Everett and stepping up to her.
"Give me your face."
"What?-"
Kritana scoffed as she forced Everett's chin down, and cupped her hand over her no-longer-bleeding nose. There was a sickening crunch, and Everett winced as she felt her nose twist into place. It didn't bleed though- she knew that Kritana had at least the compassion not to leave her bleeding.
"You gonna fix my leg, too, bone-bitch?" Everett raised an eyebrow.
"No, seeing you struggle is funny." Kritana was about to walk away when Eylara pushed past Father Drin's seething form to make Kritana turn around.
"Heal her leg, Sister Kritana. I'm not having an injured swordswoman being my only navigation. Unless you'd prefer she be carried to our destination?"
.
.
.
Fixing the leg hurt more the Everett thought it had hurt to break it in the first place.
She sat on one of the pews while everyone made arrangements around her- despite the fact she hadn't agreed to anything as of yet (a brothel of women did seem tantalising, however) everyone was acting as if she'd agreed so vehemently that they must leave immediately.
Kritana was coming along, as Eylara stated she would need the priestess for her necromantic capabilities to actually get into the tomb at all.
Everett had been aggressively against it, but one glance from the southern womans deep brown eyes followed by her drawled "Play nice," was enough to force Everett into a puddle on the ground beneath her feet.
The redhead had her trouser leg pulled up, and was massaging up and down her shin. There was always an ache left over from a necromancer fiddling around in her internal organs. Her sword was being cleaned by the silent, broad man off to her side. His hands were ragged, she noticed. Shrouded in a red, fluffed cloak, with a bushy brown beard streaked with grey either side of his mouth. His armour sat bulky on his shoulder, with loose-fitted old fabrics sewn together into a shirt. The style reminded her of northernmost fashions- the kinds of things she herself was wearing.
While the others talked and gathered their things, Everett searched her satchel with one hand to find something to eat. Her own sagging shirt probably needed changing again- however now both of her shirts had blood on them, and even her expensive harem pants had tears in the linen and stains on the knees and ankle pieces. She felt rather unkempt. Even with the freedom of the world putside the temple, she'd failed to keep herself as clean as she had done here.
She took a large bite of jerked beef, and offered a piece to the man.
He took it, placing it to the side of his mouth and chewing loudly as he finished polishing Everett's rapier.
"You know your way around a sword, don't you?" She inquired.
The man grumbled incoherently, swallowing the food before he mumbled. His voice had the same kind of rumble to it that one would find in an echo chamber. As if his body worked to resonate it into a deep cacophony of rather pleasant sounds.
"More used to a long sword or battle axe, my lady. Rapiers are much rarer in the mountains."
"You're from the mountains? I visited there once, they were quite beautiful."
The man let out a sound between a cough and a laugh.
"That they are, my lady," he said, "The sun never melts the snow, even on the warmest of days. And the warrior's- ach, I'd say they'd use a woman such as yourself well."
Everett was unsure of what he meant by that. She didn't look much a soldier, at least not from what he could tell. He seemed to notice her confusion, and spoke softly-
"You hold yourself like someone ready to grab your sword and fight."
His hands finished polishing the sword, and he held the hilt out to her.
She took it, looking over the sharpened metals. It had been a while since she'd seen it cleaned.
The rust had sank its teeth into it so long ago she'd assumed it would never be pulled out. But the hilt and blade reflected back at her now, in the dim of the cathedral candlelight. She turned it away before she could see her reflection in it.
"Never realised," the redhead mused. A fist bumped her shoulder, making her rock on her tailbone on the cushion of the pew. The mans chortle sent vibrations through the wood, she felt it in her thighs.
"Ach, humble then, my lady. The names Verin. I'm Ms. Eylara's personal guard."
"She needs a guard?!" Everett tittered. She tapped her fingers along the hilt of her rapier, screwing and unscrewing the end compartment as she tilted her head.
"She looks like she can handle herself."
"She can! That woman could win against a god if she tried hard enough," Verin gaffawed, "I'm only there to stop her from killing the wrong person if they get in the way, hah!"
Everett found herself sinking into her seat. She rubbed her leg absently, watching the bruising shift unnaturally beneath her fingertips. Necromancers rarely healed the living- so despite no longer having a broken leg, there was still enough damage to be uncomfortable.
Verin let out a gruff sigh.
"You got a history with those two priest types?" He inquired. In an attempt to be soft, though his voice hardly allowed for it.
"Yeah. Long story, though," Everett responded quietly. She placed her sword in its sheath, having missed the uncomfortable way it dug into her hip with how she sat.
Verin didn't ask any more.
Everett chose to eat another piece of jerky, hand him one, and ignore the priests and blacksmith as they prepared to take her on a journey she didn't want to go on in favour of talking about battle techniques with him.
Eventually, a map was shoved into her lap as she was making a valiant attempt to put her boots back on.
Kritana flopped down gracefuly beside her, jewellery clinking against gold and bone as she twirled her rings around her fingers. Everett found that the sound was grating. As a kid she'd associated it with something akin to adoration.
Now it just made her ears feel like they were splitting open.
Kritana said, waving her hand lazily, "You know, Ev, you could use an adventure in your life."
"I could use my foot in your ass," Everett deadpanned. Verin let out a choked sound beside her.
"So classy, I missed that sharp tongue," Kritana responded breathily. She tapped the map with her finger.
Everett sighed, leaning her head back and staring at the ceilings tapastries and paint with the words 'should shut your goddamn mouth' on loop in her head.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and she mumbled, "You're a piece of shit, Krit. I'm only going cause..."
Well she really had no choice but to go. Kritana glanced at Eylara and made a face like she'd swallowed a raw fish.
"You really have a type, ah? Someone who could toss you out a window?" She gruffed.
Everett snapped her head up and hit the priestesses arm with a hiss automatically.
"Not that, asshat. I'm going cause I got jack-shit else to do with my time."
Kritana rubbed over where the hit had landed on her upper arm with a scowl.
"No need to be so rough," she hissed, "I still have feelings, you know."
Everett snorted, "Oh? Since when?"