Two Locations

"Two Locations" is a [SEASON NUMBER] thread written on [IRL DATE].
==Summary==
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==Full Text==
Egil Haddock: It was cramped inside the safe house. Even if the building had been roomier and populated by half the number of humans, it would have felt cramped. The very situation - of being forced to hide against his will - made the simple cottage walls feel like prison bars. It didn’t matter the front door was unlocked. Everything he wanted to do was locked from him.
Egil hadn’t slept well all week. He sat upright, leaning against the walls, adjusting and readjusting his position as he tried to get comfortable. Futile. He listened as one of his daughters shifted in her sleep. Even the building, creaking and groaning, stirred restless. 
He stood and began to pace the room.
—-
Many villages scattered the countryside. One, located at least a week’s ride away from the safe house town, looked fairly similar: small, unassuming, with nothing more than a few clumps of cottages and a single street of modest markets. But there were still enough women and men around for a tavern. Frankly, the lack of anything else to do but farm and weave made the tavern more necessary. Drinking boredom away was the town’s hottest recreation.
Moonlight led him up the road; lamplight invited him inside. About a dozen customers sat circled around the tables, reaching in for cards, meals, or pints. A short-skirted waitress wandered between them, forcing herself to smile as she handled inebriated complaints. A fiddler stood on a table near the back. The sawing melody was unrefined, but Egil recognized it all the same: a folk tune about a man who out-manipulated demons through a series of disguises. 
He sought out the friendliest looking group and pulled up a chair uninvited. He plopped both elbows on the table, pulled out his most winsome crooked grin, and asked, “Mind dealing a hand for another player?” 
—-
Mera was snoring softly. So was Avara. Jonas was awake, outside, monitoring the neighborhood for suspicious signs. Jonas had taken more night watches than anyone else combined, it seemed. He really did seem wound up about this hiding business.
Well. Awake as he was, Egil could relieve his brother. He wasn’t sure Jonas had the ability to relax, but taking watch would also help Egil. He needed to do his part. He might not feel comfortable being king, but this simple duty was one he could handle. And the more he could prove to himself he deserved the crown, the less tedious these nights would feel.
—-
Three golden coins landed crown-side up. The symbol of the king glinted on the table. Ironic, given as he’d run away two weeks ago to forsake kingly duties. And run away from running away, too.
Look, if he was going to leave the castle to save his skin, he’d do it on his own terms, his own way, not holed up because Stonegit said so.
Last he’d heard, Avara and the rest of his family had left for shelter anyway. Interesting they hadn’t gone looking for him. Though maybe they had, and he just hadn’t caught wind of it yet.
That had to be it. King though her son may be, Mera wouldn’t let Egil off the hook for this one. Someone was searching for him.
Heh. Let them try. Better here than whatever cramped quarters Stonegit had prepared. Here, at least, he could continue living a decent life.
The fiddler was playing loud as Egil set down the Jack of Diamonds and won his hand.
—-
Egil found Jonas near the edge of town.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” his brother said in return.
He sat down next to Jonas. They stared at the full moon in silence.
“Pretty quiet night for a Tuesday, amirite?” 
“Mm.” 
It was hard to tell if Jonas’ response was an agreement or a disagreeing noise trying to get Egil to shut up.
They lingered in silence.
Egil tried again.
“Dad ran away too, huh? Way back in those days.”
“Also for duty,” Jonas pointed out. Egil could feel his brother opening up for discussion; this conversation was apparently more agreeable than the calendar comment. “Standing up for what he believed was right, fighting for the rights of his citizens, even though that meant leaving the castle and capital and what many of the higher ups believed proper of him.”
“This still feels different. Ya know. Dad went out to fight. We’re… we’re hiding.”
“The rebels also went into hiding sometimes.”
“I guess.”
Jonas looked over at his brother, the first eye contact he’d made all night. His light eyes glowed from something internal, not just the outside moonlight. He leaned in, and emphasized kindly, “You’re doing the right thing.”
“Yeah yeah yeah, I know.”
Egil sighed, feeling imprisoned, even though he’d left the building. 
“I know.”
They fell into silence again, and this time, Egil didn’t try to reignite conversation. They let the night softly sigh as wind whisked through their hair. 
Pretty quiet night for a Tuesday, indeed.
—-
In the cramped tavern quarters, Egil had never felt more free. Drinks and money flowed, voices rose and fell, excited shouts sometimes drowned out the fiddle, and Egil had caught the pretty young waitress with a wink… and she’d smiled back. Once this card game was done, he’d be winning something else tonight.
Among the ruckus, he heard many things. Conversations of town gossip - “Ya hear? Melid’s pregnant again, and she ain’t been ’round her husband at least a year.” Conversations of the king - “Did you hear? King Egil fled the castle to go in hiding. Bet he’s locked up safe, wherever that is.” Conversations of everyday life - “I feel like the full moon’s keepin’ us all awake. This place is pretty busy.”
“Yeah! Pretty rowdy night for a Tuesday, am I right?” 
Kettil Ericson: A young man approaches the table. “Good evening. Would it be alright if I joined you fine fellows?” He asked look between those at the table. 
Egil: Egil didn’t even glance behind him. He waved his hand to the nearest empty chair with a hearty cackle. “Of course! The more the merrier! Specifically, the more, the richer I get.” 
Kettil: The young man smiles kindly as he takes a seat. “A pleasure to meet you, my name is Kettil. Could I get a hand of cards please?” He asks the current dealer pulling out some money. 
Egil: Egil set down his own bet. Kettil was dealt into the next round. 
“Kettil, eh? Glad to have you around, my man. Name’s Ander. So, you another one of these village regulars, or are you traveling in from elsewhere?“
He picked up his hand, shuffled a few cards, and frowned. He made no effort to hide he had received a suboptimal hand. 
Kettil: Kettil continued to smile as they spoke, even after he got his cards. “Technically both. I run a few dragon clinics throughout the land that I make frequent visits to. I just made my last stop for this rotation and now I’m heading back home. I always stop here on my way back though.” He says as he tosses a few coins in. 
Egil: “Is that so? Interesting. You know, I’m quite particular to dragons myself. Don’t do nothing with clinics though - could say I just have a way with the beasts. Don’t happen to be hiring a Professional Dragon Friend now, do ya?” He winked, indicating he was probably not being serious, but that he would take the position if it were somehow real. 
It was time to place down his cards, and Egil did, showing off a hand that was suspiciously better than what his frown had indicated. Either his grimace had been a lie or he’d been able to swap a few cards past his coat cuffs. Either way, it was a hand that would be difficult to beat, and the second he placed it down, everyone around the table groaned.
Kettil: Kettil smiled. “I mean we’re always looking for help. However the position would require an extensive look into your background. We take the care of dragons extremely seriously and we cannot hire someone with a history of abuse.” Kettil looks down at the cards. “A fine hand Ander.” He says. “Though mine is just a bit better.” He chuckles as he lays down a set of cards that trumped the other man’s.
Egil: Egil cackled as the winning hand went to Kettil. “Well played my friend, well played. Looks like it’s game on between the two of us, eh?”
After taking a long swig of his drink, he turned back to the newcomer and said, “Ya know, tell me more about this business. What’s all this ‘through the land’ stuff about? Don’t know many people who do more than a small area local stint. If you’re widespread that means you got like, connections or something?”
Kettil: He nods as he looks over his cards, that same damn smile on his face. “You could say that. My family had ties to the old king Haddock back in the day. We still try to keep in touch with his family and the new King.” The man says as he glances across the table at “Ander”.
Egil: If Egil were surprised at Kettil’s comment, he didn’t show it. He remained as relaxed as ever, one arm draped over the back of his chair, the other resting on the table and holding his cards. “Well, can’t get a better connection than that, can you? That’s pretty privileged.
“So pardon for prying, does that mean you met the king? Erm, I guess, the old one. Or the new one. Whatever. Eh, I’m still not used to old Gareth being dead.
Kettil: He nods. “I met King Gareth a few times. Met his family as well. Heard his son ran off for some reason.” He says as he folds.
Egil: “His entire family did,” the card dealer said. “The whole castle’s vacant now, except for guards protecting the grounds from would-be thieves.”
“Sounds like cowardice to me,” Egil said.
“Not cowardice,” the dealer responded. “Self-protection. He’s got those little kids of his, right? Keeping them out of harm’s way. I get it.”
Egil just shrugged. “Crazy times, huh?”
Kettil: The door at the front of the tavern opened quietly as Stonegit slipped inside. Between information from his relief guards, knowing Egil as he did, and Tornpike catching a glimpse of the King with his excellent vision, the guard had managed to find his charge.
Normally he’d be furious. But he knew he had trust his charges as often has he protected them. Not to mention trusting Nala and Shax’s ability to keep Rhenco at bay. Plus he himself had done his fair share of running around for selfish reasons.
Lacking both anger and guilt for once, Stonegit sat at the back of the room, ordered some coffee, lit a cigar, and eased back with his axe close at hand.
He could protect Egil while letting him have his fun. There was no need to spoil it, and he could tell him everything he had done later.
Kettil: Kettil nodded as he listened to the conversation. "That's true. But not what I was referring to." He says as he takes a new set of cards. "From what I heard, King Egil ran from them too. Can't seem to figure out why though." He says, keeping his eyes on the man across from him.
Egil: Egil glanced behind him, taking a good, straight look at the man who just walked into the tavern. If he recognized Stonegit, he showed no sign of it. His eyes passed over him as easily as he passed over the rest of the room.
“I’m not sure you should be saying info like that, should you?” Egil asked. “The place he went to was supposed to be secret. So if he’s in a secret spot, who’s saying he left that? Who knows? Either people who’ve been around him when he’s in hiding - in which case you’re compromising top-secret security - or you’re listening to batshit rumors from the countryside of people who don’t trust their new king. Heh.”
Kettil: He smirks a bit. “Unless I’m not doing either of those.” He lays his cards on the table, his hands dropping below the table as he works his magic. “I know it’s you, your majesty.” He says, no one else in the bar seemingly able to hear him. “I’m not sure why you chose to run off from your ‘secret spot’ and I’m wondering why.”
Egil: “Here.” Egil set his card hand down. It wasn’t very good, and someone else reached over to collect their money. “Let’s get our own table, yes?” 
He led Kettil toward a table in the corner of the room. They were far from most of the crowd; the person closest to them was the fiddler. The fiddler was playing the same folk tune as the one Egil had heard when he came in; this poor musician was probably one of the only entertainers in town, and didn’t know how to play many songs.
“I think you’re mistaking me for someone else,” he said as he settled into his new chair.
Kettil: Kettil heard the song before he shielded their conversation from listening ears. “If that is the case then you have much explaining to do, for you are the spitting image of the current King.” He said, his smile gone.
Egil: “When have you seen the king?” Egil insisted. He was beginning to lose his cool and sound frustrated. “How can I just take you at your word about your convenient connections with his family?”
Kettil: “The last time I saw King Egil was at his father’s funeral, and I would not lie about know his family. It would dishonor both his and my father’s memories as well as the battles they fought together. Now, who are you?”
Egil: He shifted uncomfortably. “Alright. Prove it to me. Say something that only an acquaintance of the king would know.” Egil stared him in the eye. He slammed his fist down on the table, too, and when he did so, a card slipped out from his coat. He had indeed been cheating. He tapped the Jack quickly back up his sleeve.
Kettil: He chuckles as he sees the card. “My father once threw a pie at your own, a cry of ‘Eat pie fishy’ preceded it I believe.” It was a favored story of Greg’s and Kettil was sure he told it often enough that Egil had heard it at least once, much to Gareth’s chagrin.
Egil: Egil sighed and slumped. “Alrighty. Fine. That’s… that’s proof enough. Not many people know about that.”
His lips curled up in a crooked smile. “Heh. I woulda loved to have seen that.
“Well. Guess there’s no use hiding anything. You’re not going to turn me in or nothing, are ya? I’ve been on the run. What with this whole ‘king gone into hiding’ business, apparently that means more people want to harm me, turn me in, betray me, or some nonsense? Like, if they just toss me to Rhenco, their lives are gonna be better? I dunno. I was supposed to be safer, not some damn fugitive.”
Kettil: He smiled. “Of course I’m not going to turn you in. It’d kinda be treason if I did that. Anyways if you were in a secret spot, as you claimed, why run from it? Like I get people want you… Gone in one form or another but it’s easier to protect you and your whole family if you’re all together isn’t it? Not gallivanting around where anyone could recognize you.”
Egil: Egil shrugged. “Staying in one town all the time is just as dangerous if not even more. Yeah? You stay there, someone notices you, they yak off to their friend, their friend yaks off to their friend, news travels. And ’cause you’re still in that one spot, people know where to find you. 
“Here at least, I got a chance to move before the news catches up with me. Besides.” He winked. “I’ve done this since I was a kid. Almost no one recognizes me. They know my name. Near nobody’s seen my face before.”
Kettil: “Well…” He pauses. “I would suggest coming to Haligan with me, but I can almost guarantee that it’s not safe their either. Though it’s more the ‘visitors’ that concern me there as opposed to actual citizens.”
Egil: Egil leaned forward and began stroking - of all things - his nose, thoughtfully. “Well. How about I go with you on your dragon circuit? That’d work, yeah?”
Kettil: He shrugs. “I mean you certainly could, but as I said I head back home for a bit after each circuit. And besides that it’s just a front to help escaped half-breed refugees from Central and other places. Your father helped me set it up.”
Penny: As the two continue their hushed conversation, the fiddler is joined by a pennywhistler who somehow manages to string together only slightly more correct notes than the fiddler himself, and the ones that are correct shriek horribly on every second note.
She may or may not be slightly drunk, as well. This is a tavern, after all, and she was having a wonderful time.
Heron/Egil: Heron jumped when Penny started playing. 
He shouldn’t have. But he did.
He’d been waiting for her the entire night. He’d been preoccupied worrying that she’d never show up. He’d been playing worse than usual, frantic over the thought. He’d felt exposed. Standing on that table. Alone. Without her. Without Penny. Where was she where was she where was she where WAS she?
But he had been worrying so much about her absence that he completely failed to notice her presence.
And ergo. He jumped.
And as he jumped, his foot kicked out.
And as his foot kicked out, he stumbled.
And as he stumbled, his bow flew up the fiddle strings, screeching out a SCRRRRRRCCHHHH so loud the music changed from not-that-bad to the-screams-of-four-flailing-torture-victims.
And as the tavern descended into the soundscape of a nightmare dungeon, Heron flew high into the air, tumbled over backward, crashed into the nearest five chairs, knocked them all down, knocked the table he and Penny had been standing on down, knocked her down, and flew up so much beer and whiskey that the entire tavern turned into a liquor rainstorm.
And then silence fell.
A long, long, long silence.
Egil broke it. 
“What the fuck was that!?!”
Kettil: Kettle blinks as he watches the display. “Um… I’m not really sure.” He was also unsure if that would have been funnier with or without sound. He disregarded it for the moment. “Anyway, knowing all that do you still want to go with me? Don’t answer right now, think on it for a minute.” He drops the magic he’d been using and sound flooded back into his ears. He walked over to the two musicians and offered each a hand. “Are you guys alright?”
Penny: Penny takes Kettil’s hand with an exaggerated groan and pulls herself up. “Ugh, yeah I think I’ll live. Not sure about this bonehead though.”
Fuck. In all the mess, she’d dropped her pennywhistle. She glances frantically around for it, pausing a moment to wince because ow, headache. She then spots it by her feet and picks it up, cradling it. “Aw no, my baby got all dented and dinged up. Dammit Heron!” She plays a quick scale, squeaking as always, to see if it got knocked out of tune, and sighs in relief when she sounds exactly as bad as she always has.
Egil/Heron: Egil had jumped up and charged forward the second he saw the commotion. Now he took a step back, letting Kettil handle the two musicians. 
Heron had yet to pull himself up. He was splayed across two and a half chairs, long skinny limbs awkwardly stick upon amongst the chair legs, looking like a turtle turned over without the shell. His fiddle had landed on top of his torso, somehow saving it from damage.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I guess? Whistles don’t cost much… you can always get another. One of my STRINGS is worth more than your baby!”
Penny: “It’s the principal of the thing! My grandfather gave me this whistle and I refuse to let it be harmed! Besides, if it’d broken completely, I’d be making you pay for the new one, since this is your fault.”
Penny crosses her arms and glares at Heron, the dumbass still laying there looking like a dumbass. She leans down to pluck a string on his fiddle with a little smile. “You’re really lucky this thing is fine. I’d probably kill you if I had to hear you crying about it being broken.”
Kettil: “Mk, hi hello.” Kettil says as he steps in between the two. “Mayhaps we could have this discussion, not in the middle of a crowded tavern?” The half-breed asks trying to keep the peace.
Xui Nayro: A shadowy figure sat in the corner of the tavern this entire time was watching this play out from under his cloak and hood, watching with interest. He hadn't moved from his spot at all, curiously and passively watching the scene.
Until the clatter of the musicians causing the table to fall over, where he winced as they began arguing somewhat over their instruments.
He hadn't really liked the music in the first place, but at least the whistling one had been brief. His eardrums hadn't approved. He chuckled at watching them argue, amused.
"That was the best part of the performance so far." He stated slyly to the musicians."You should consider adding falling off of tables and knocking things over to your act. Might improve it." He took a sip from his drink.
Stonegit: Stonegit observed the scene and his eyes narrowed at the cloaked man. The last he needed was Egil to get hurt in the heat of an argument or be attacked by an unlikely assassin. He slung a small crossbow out from his coat and quietly loaded it from under the table. 
That said, the situation seemed innocent enough for now. Although he did find himself glaring at the sticky drink now dripping down onto various areas of the tavern. 
Kettil: He scowls at the man for a moment before turning back towards Penny. “There’s always hecklers, just ignore him. My name is Kettil, what’s your name?”
Penny: “I’m Penny, and the numbskull on the floor with the fiddle there is Heron. Glad to meet’cha.” She sticks her tongue out defiantly at the rude shadowy bastard before grinning at Kettil. “Sure is a right mess we’ve landed in. Thanks for helping out.”
The figure laughed softly at Penny when she stuck her tounge out at him, taking another sip of his drink.
“I’m just saying you could use some practice, lady. You and your fiddling friend there.” He turned slightly to the table near him where Egil and Stonegit were sitting, as if looking for agreement. “They just need some time to get better. I still think the table thing was good.”
Egil/Heron: Heron stood to his feet, almost fell down again, righted himself, stumbled, righted himself, and then wobbled for a while, as precarious on his legs as most people were on stilts. He ignored Penny’s tongue stuck out at him - not difficult to do, as he was rather used to it. However, he was less used to criticism from the bar patrons. In a small village as this, usually people were content with any music at all.
So, despite Kettil’s comment to avoid hecklers, Heron directly addressed the one in the corner.
He puffed up his chest - not much to puff, thin as he was - and protested, “I would love to see any one of you play better than me. Musical instruments take years of hard work, innate talent, a sense of artistry, careful -”
Egil rolled his eyes, snagged the violin from Heron’s hands, relieved him of his bow, and then played a few bars. It sounded fantastic. 
He handed the instrument back to Heron, point made.
“I would love to uh. See. Uh. Anyone ELSE. Play better.” 
Penny: Rolling her eyes, Penny herself takes the fiddle and belts out a quick tune of her own, sounding not half bad at all. Granted, the song was a basic one taught to children who are just learning, but it still sounded considerably better than Heron’s playing. She hands the thing back to Heron, smirking.
“Yeah I’m actually the talent of us two. Funny how, eh? He was born first, he should be the best ‘n all that. But nope.”
To prove it doubly, she played a deliberately not squeaky few notes on her whistle. Anything to show up her brother, and this corner-dwelling jerk. Never mind that the song again was a simple one for young children and would sound amateurish to even a non-musician.
Egil/Heron: Indignantly, Heron yanked the whistle away from Penny. Instead of showing off, he blew the loudest, highest, longest, shrillest, SCREECH known to humankind.
After destroying everyone’s hearing - including his own - he handed it wordlessly to Penny. He collected the instrument. And marched out the door. “C’mon, Penny. Let’s take our art somewhere we’re appreciated.”
Egil, already bored with the encounter, was trying to urge Kettil to sit down again and continue their discussion.
Nayro: The man covered his ears with an angry grumble and they were still ringing when Heron started to leave. No amount of jesting on his own part should have led to that. Barely able to hear, he stood up, unsure what exactly he’d do, but he was upset.
“Excuse me! That was uncalled for!” He yelled, still pawing at his head. “Just because you can’t take criticism of your noise doesn’t mean my ears have to suffer! I can barely hear now! My ears will be ringing for hours!’
He glared at Heron from the shadow of his cloak, ticked off.
Kettil: Kettil ignored the three and sat down with Egil and put up his bubble again. “So what do you think?”
Egil: Egil sat back down. He rubbed his forehead and then admitted, “I don’t even remember where we were. What were we chatting ’bout before we got interrupted?”
Kettil: He smiles kindly. “We were discussing whether or not you would accompany me on my circuit to the clinics. And I told you that the clinics were a front to move and supply refugees from Central and other areas. I also reminded you that my current circuit was finished and that I’d be returning to Haligan for a few weeks.”
Egil: Egil looked thoughtful. “Sounds interesting and useful. That said, I’m more interested in skirting under notice, ya know? Though… mostly because there wasn’t much choice. 
“Stonegit was treating it as ‘safehouse or bust’ and I didn’t want to do that. Would rather be at the castle leading. 
“I’d just rather do this than sit in that safehouse. So. Maybe I could get involved in your enterprise instead. It’d certainly be more fit for my station. Whaddya say?”
Kettil: Kettil got a sudden and immense feeling of distrust and he wasn’t sure why. Something just felt… Off to him. “Maybe he replied. Honestly I’m not to sure how safe it would be. Like you said all it takes is one person to recognize you and the whole thing could unravel.”
Egil: Egil’s smile was intended to put Kettil at ease, but it came off looking cocky. “Remind you also: It’s the case that almost no one knows my face. I only mean skirting under notice to avoid any assholes who want me dead. It’s pretty safe being here. I mean look at this cozy place.”
He gestured around the room, to the collapsed chairs, to the turned over table, to the swaths of floor covered in sticky liquor puddles.
“Cozy and safe as can be. And that’s the way it’ll be with most places I go. Just so long as I’m not cooped up, you get me?”
Kettil: He nods. “I understand but I cannot in good conscience risk the entire operation, and the lives of half-breeds throughout the land upon keeping you entertained.”
Egil: “This isn’t about entertainment, dammit. What do you think I am? A butler? A weaver?”
Kettil: “I don’t understand why you’re so desperate to join my circuit, Egil.” He says. “I know you want to keep moving but moving in a circuit is still predictable.”
Egil: “You’d rather your king sit in a bar playing cards?” Egil said flatly.
Kettil: “I’d rather you stick with Stonegit back there.” He jerks his head back towards the man.
Upon seeing the pointed head motion in his direction, Stonegit snorted lightly through his nose and waved the back of his hand through the air at them as if to say ‘dont mind me, go back to your drinks.’
Egil: Egil glanced over at Stonegit. This time, when their eyes locked, Egil seemed to recognize him. He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve already made myself clear I’d rather not deal with that guy’s ‘safehouse.’ But I s’pose I should see what he’s doing here now, yeah?” 
Egil stood up, nodded politely to Kettil for leave, and began walking toward Stonegit.
“So,” said Egil when he approached Stonegit. “You’re after me?”
Stonegit set aside his drink. "Only in the way that my job dictates." He paused and studied the man before him. It was an odd look, and not just because of his physically altered eyes. He opened his mouth as if he had a lot to say, but then paused, and instead drew the cigar to his mouth instead.
He blew the smoke off to the side. "Thank you for honoring our agreement." He said instead. "We can talk later. For now..." Stonegit motioned towards the rest of the tavern. "Enjoy the time with your people...you're doing good Egil..."
Egil: “Good, huh? Not what I expected to hear.”
Apr 9, 2020
"I can imagine why." Stonegit sighed. "There's only an immortal torture machine that targets King's running loose. And for that, I'm scared for you."
He held up a finger. "But...I protect you, not control you. You are your own man and king Egil. And you have chosen to be so among your people, active in their lives. As dangerous as that is, there is honor."
Egil: “Sure, we’ll go with that,” sassed Egil. “I haven’t felt very in charge recently.”
Apr 9, 2020
"Come on dont be like that." Stoengit said and ground the cigar out on an ash plate. "Leadership has many faces. It's less about control and more about adaptability than many think." He tapped his fingers on the table in thought. "And despite my concerns, that's what you're doing, and it speaks to your merit."
Egil: “Don’t be like that,” Egil scoffed. “Trying to make me into a good guy when I’m not. Trying to make me into a responsible guy when I’m not. Trying to make my selfish choices into something nice. I am who I am, Stonegit. And I’m a wreck! Like, get the fucked used to it.”
Apr 9, 2020
Stonegit went quiet, and Egil saw the ghost of old wounds flicker in his eyes. He settled back into his seat. "My mistake..." he said evenly. "I'll get on that."
His posture then closed off, as if he were simply another chair or table in the backdrop of the tavern.
Kettil: Kettil watched the scene from where he sat, his feeling getting worse all the time. He didn't know why but something just felt weird to him.
Egil: “Gah. This evening. This evening has been a mess.” Egil shrugged. “You. Him.” He pointed to Kettil. “Everything. Too much going on at once. I can’t think. I can’t think. I’m bouncing everywhere and I know it. Dammit.
“Just. Like. Just let me be for a moment, can ya? Gimme five minutes.”
Apr 9, 2020
Stonegit met his eyes wordlessly and then motioned with his hand as if to bid Egil to do whatever it is he wanted to do, and forever how long.
The gesture wasnt rude, just neutral.
Egil: Egil ran his hands through his hair. He shook his head wordlessly. And then he turned to leave in the direction of his room for the night.
Maybe it would be more than five minutes he needed.
Kettil: As soon as he was gone Kettil approached Stonegit. "May I take a seat?"
Apr 9, 2020
Stonegit's hardset eyes turned towards him, and then the gaze was forcefully softened. He had been frustrated by Egil, which was nothing new, not Greg's son.
"Sure..." he huffed, his ears still peaked for any suspicious sounds from where the King had left. "How are you Kettil?"
Kettil: He noticed the bodyguard continuing to glance towards Egil's room so he left the bubble down for now. "As well as I can be considering the circumstances. How about yourself?"
Apr 9, 2020
"I'm well enough..." Stonegit replied as he grabbed for his drink again. "Just keeping up with my work while fixing some personal issues between myself and a friend. What troubles you?"
Kettil: And like that all sound from the tavern disappeared. "I'm worried about the King. I don't know, something just felt off, I can't explain it. I don't know if maybe I'm just paranoid with everything going on but I just get a bad feeling about him. I don't know him as well as you do so maybe he's normal but... I don't know."
Apr 9, 2020
Stonegit glanced around subtly once, and then nodded. "I appreciate the information, and the concern. But I assure you the King, although grieving like all of us in light of Haddock's death, is very much himself and noble in his work."
His hand gripped the mug as he took a drink. Although it seems as though he was privy to forget his good qualities tonight...
Kettil: He nods. "Very well if you believe that he is alright then I shall trust your judgement. Just be careful. There's just something bugging me... But it's probably nothing."
Category:BOTGD 2
Category:Events
Category:Act I
Category:Egil Ander Haddock
Category:Kettil Ericson
Category:Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss
Category:Penny
Category:Heron
Category:Jonas Aerin Haddock
Category:Xui Nayro