Freya sighed, wiping some blood off her face. Even though she did get hurt that had been at her right arm, not her head, and the blood she was wiping off was definitely not hers. It belonged to one of the many guards and assassins she and Harol had to deal with just a moment.ago, though she couldn't remember which one.

"Well, at least that's taken care of now.." She said, leaning against the bridge made of stone where the battle had taken place, catching her breath again. She took a moment to look at her wound. It was a deep, long, vertical cut running down her right arm, and it looked anything but pleasant.

"You probably don't have any bandage with you, do you?" Freya asked, looking at Harol. If not she would have to tear off a piece of her shirt or cloak, which was a thought Freya wasn't very fond of. She liked her clothing and they were in a good condition, except for the few blood stains that were now on it, and she hated to ruin her outfit by tearing off a piece of her shirt.

The fight was over. It had been decided. Harol had a hard time deciding whether it was the element of surprise that allowed him and Freya to come out on top in this encounter, or if the assassins were simply extremely incompetent. Now for some odd reason, Harol felt the need to cough a couple times, and so he did. It could have been dust, stress from using magic, some kind of a reflex to the amount of blood on the ground and people... he didn't know, nor did he really care to. He did need to know how his companion was doing for now though. Apparently nothing too bad, a single rather nasty cut on her arm. She would not be using that hand for a good while, but she'd manage... hopefully.

Freya spoke to Harol after sitting down... or at least leaning against something... and made a remark on how they had managed to handle the situation. "Indeed I would say so. Not the absolute best outcome, but praise Ishul'Shog, we are still in one piece! Much better than I dared to expect to be quite honest, seeing there is only a single wound on the two of us", Harol answered to her and listened to her question. "You are correct, as unfortunate it is. I have no bandage with me, and my scrolls and books are absolutely not going to work as substitutes to it."

Harol stared further down the road and judged their chances to make it to house Clasz grounds in one go, so Freya's wound could be treated. But alas, there was no hope. They were simply too far away, and they could not rush it with her arm in such shape. After all, Harol had had his share of injuries from hauling too heavy things too carelessly, and this was much worse than a simple strain. "So what are we going to do to it now? Do you have anything you could use? We need to get going rather quickly too, we cannot stay at this point...", Harol stopped rambling as he got to the point where anything he said was only common sense, and started to slowly make his way over the bridge. This little head start would not take him far, so Freya could easily catch up, and he would even wait at the other end if the need arised.

Freya let out an annoyed sigh and started walking again, following after Harol. "I suppose I'll just have to improvise a little in that case. Such a shame though, this shirt was made of a very fine fabric, it took a fair amount of stealing before I could afford something of this quality..." She answered. She tore a fairly big piece of her sleeve from her shirt, big enough to treat her wound. She carefully wrapped it around the wound and tied it properly, before looking at Harol again.

"So how much more of those assassins and what not do you think we will come across before we reach our destination?" She asked him. She was quite certain that they could survive such a fight a second time as well, though she wasn't very fond of the idea to fight again. Not that was unskilled, she just preferred to do things without much violence. It left much more signs of one's presence than simply avoiding the fight.

Thinking of which, running away was always an available option, even of that meant she would leave Harol at his own fate. She wasn't unfamiliar with betrayal at all, and if it would save her life, she was certain she wouldn't hesitate for very long. It wasn't like she would be unable to survive without Harol as her companion, anyway.

Still, Freya had to admit there was something different about Harol, something that had kept her from running away before the previous fight had started. Maybe it was that he had been actually quite good company, or the idea of getting to a sanctuary sounded just so good to her, but she didn't like it even a bit. Throughout her life she had only been loyal to one person just yet, and that had only led to her mourning. Getting attached or loyal to someone just couldn't be a good thing for her.

As Harol listened to Freya expressing her discontent in the need to tear her shirt, Harol couldn't help but react to the fact she mentioned needing to steal lots to afford anything of such quality. Stealing was wrong, that was what Harol had always been taught, and even in desperate times he seemed to keep his values. At least he had the common sense not to start lecturing about the subject to Freya. She lived in a different realm, a realm Harol had just been forced into. A realm that knew no rigid rules. Anything goes, as long as the times are bad enough. It was hard for him to understand the concept of needing to steal, being from a wealthy and powerful family... but he would learn soon. Hopefully not, but it was extremely likely.

"How many more assassins you ask? Who knows? It depends on them entirely, but I believe after this... failure of theirs, they will use much more force and give us much less time to react. They'll want the job done. If fortune cares to favour us any more than it already has though, we will be able to make it to House Clasz before they gather the manpower for such a move. We will see", was all he could really say. The latter part was true though. If they wanted to gather the manpower, they would have to ambush them well before they made it to the grounds of House Clasz. Their oracles keep a close eye on their premises, and nobody will ambush anyone there without their discretion. Given the fact houses Arkdal and Clasz were really close to each other, they would never let the assassins settle there.

"We will have to look for a place for a night's sleep, but that unfortunately has to wait for the dark and we can only sleep for a moment with one eye open. I'm sure you understand the need to sleep though, we still have quite a stretch of road left to traverse." Harol's footsteps were accompanied with the usual clinking of his staff as he made his way forward. He would need to figure out a place for them to stay. Oh if they only had a carriage and could make it to the destination before the dark... Well, wishful thinking.

"It makes this infinitely more difficult that we have to move on foot. A carriage like what I used to travel on when my family was still very alive brought us there much faster than the times when we walked to keep our minds from gathering dust. I enjoyed those walks, but now I'd give anything for a carriage... not that any sane merchant would take anything of mine. They won't sell, and if they do the buyer is so weird they'll avoid making the transaction not to get in trouble... anyway, I'm rambling. Pardon me", Harol spoke whatever came to his mind to keep a connection to Freya that walked behind him. after all, it'd be easier for her to ask Harol to slow down if she had no need to break the silence first.

Freya looked at Harol, raising an eyebrow. "A carriage, really? We are on the run. The last thing we need is a big thing on wheels like that to cause us to get only more attention from passing strangers." She said, letting out a sigh. While a carriage would be much faster and admittedly nice for a change, it was also much more noticeable and would draw more attention than just two passing people. And it wasn't like they couldn't walk because of anything, so Freya saw no need for a carriage.

"If there is one thing you need, than that would be something to hide that pretty little face of yours. Pull a hood over your eyes, put on a mask, just anything would work, because the easiest thing to remember about someone is their face, especially if it is everywhere to be seen on wanted posters. But I suppose you already figured such a thing. After all, it is not like all criminals hide their faces because they look so hideous." Freya explained, looking at the road again. To her, it only made sense to hide her face, it was the only reason she wore a hood and veil. That her veil also helped to hide the scar in her neck was something she liked, but definitely not something necessary to her.

Again she noticed how beautiful the spring season made everything look. The soft colours of the blooming trees, bushes and flowers made everything look so peaceful and calm that it helped to put Freya in a good mood, even after their battle of just a moment ago. A small smile curled around her lips as she quietly looked at the blossoming nature around them.

As Freya instantaneously dumped Harol's idea of using a carriage, he almost started defending the thought he had had. However, she did have a point. Even though the villagers might be used to carriages heading towards house Clasz, they would still notice them. And then she raised another valid point: Harol's tattoo did stick out like a sore thumb. "Although I am on no wanted poster as of yet, you are correct that my tattoo does draw attention. I did not have the opportunity to grab my ritual hood with me, but I should...", Harol spoke and reached for the back of his robe. There he pulled out some oddly shaped piece of fabric and placed it on his head.

"They can still see my tattoo from the front, that I cannot help. This rain hood is too large to cover it alone, as it is supposed to protect other headgear if the need arises as well and as we can see, I have none of that other headgear at this moment." Harol then continued clinking onwards, still making sure that Freya could keep up to the speed with her wound. She seemed to have no trouble though, and if Harol did not know they had just participated in a dangerous battle for their lives, he could have bet that Freya was actually rather happy right now. Might be the season, makes everything appear cheerful.

Wearing the hood felt rather odd to be honest. It was for rainy weather, and now the sun blazed with all it's might, although said might was not all that much considering it was not summer yet. Nevertheless, no rain anywhere to be seen, but he still had to wear it. Eh, runners can't be choosers. Harol reached for his waterskin and after a few minutes of trying with one hand and moving simultaneously, he managed to take a sip of water. How much longer would it be until sundown? Would they make it through the village today? They could not stay the night there, that was for sure.

Freya looked at Harol and sighed. Though his hood did manage to hide his face to someone looking at him from the side and a little from the front, his tattoo was still visible, which was possibly the easiest thing to recognise about the mage. "In that case I guess that will have to do." She said, before looking at the scenery around them again. Sure, it was quite bothersome that Harol couldn't entirely hide his face, but she wasn't letting it ruin her mood.

Though despite how beautiful all the things around them were and how much she enjoyed to look at everything, she hoped that they wouldn't have to travel much more until they would reach a village. Even if there would be much more people around in a village who could recognise her, she was looking forward to getting some rest. She was in a good mood, but regardless their previous fight had been quite exhausting, and after spending the previous nights in trees and bushes at the side of the road, sleeping in a bed in the room of some tavern sounded very pleasant, even if she possibly had to share said room.

Of course she preferred to have her own room, but she only had enough coins to pay for just one room and she had no idea how much Harol had, and if he would be safe if she left him alone and asleep in a room. She figured that they should have enough for a room with two separate beds, and decided to push the thoughts aside for a while. Those were only worries for later, after all.

For now, there was nothing Harol found discussion worthy, and just continued on while making sure Freya could keep up. It seemed as if the wound had not slowed her down at all. That was an impressive feat, ignoring such a large wound, but one could only hope that she was not draining too much of her strength by moving that fast. Well, she would say something if she couldn't keep up the pace, right? For now, they really had nothing else to do but go on. Even with the hood obscuring his vision somewhat, Harol tried his best to stay aware of his surroundings. He honestly believed the assassins would not try again this soon, but you never know. Best stay vigilant.

The rest of the day passed somewhat uneventfully, unless one wanted to count the occasional animal crossing the road before them. Thanks to their rather quick pace, Harol and Freya managed to reach the village well before sunset, and they would have time for a brief pause. Before actually entering the village though, Harol wanted to discuss their options: "So, Freya. There we have the last village before we enter the grounds of house Clasz. Thanks to our quick pace, we have reached this place before sundown, so we might be able to take a break here before continuing on towards the house. We have no hope of reaching them before tomorrow though, so we will likely need a good place to rest. I'd love it if we could have an actual bed, but I'm not really sure if we can safely sleep in a village... What's your opinion on this? Think you'd know better, living life like this for longer than me."

Harol stared at the village from the little hill they were standing on. He could barely make out a few houses from the midst of the trees that were on his line of sight, but they were not what was on his mind right now: He had remembered a person that lived in the village. He might actually still be there... Noddy, the one guy people said to steer clear from unless in real trouble. Well, now they were. He could take a quick look around if he'd find the person, but it was nothing of high priority. He could not even go around asking thanks to the tattoo that people would surely remember, and it was nothing he'd like to bother Freya with with that arm wound of hers.

Freya looked at Harol and shrugged. "Just knocking on a stranger's door and asking for a place to sleep is the worst thing you could do, maybe except from sleeping on the streets. Chances are that either your host will betray you, or that someone recognises you when you sleep out in the open. Unless you know someone you can most certainly trust and who is wiling to help you out, our best option is to find the local tavern and rent a room for the night." Freya said, looking at Harol as she spoke.

She didn't know anyone herself in the village who could help her out, but maybe Harol did know someone who could help. It would be better than a room in some tavern, though she didn't have too much hope for it. They were both on the run, and if someone could bring the two of them in, than he or she would certainly get a fair amount of money for that.

"Now that you mention it, I do know one person that could help..." Harol said in response to Freya's suggestions. He didn't know Noddy all that well, just pretty much what the man looked like, and the fact he was indeed a man. And that he could most often be found in the tavern spending time, but rarely drinking. "The problem is, I don't know him all that well. I've been told to steer clear of him unless in real trouble though, but I guess our situation counts. We just might find him in the tavern if we looked for him... We really cannot go asking around for obvious reasons." Having said that, Harol started making his way back towards the main road. Just standing here would get absolutely nothing done.

As he walked into the village, he undoubtedly drew attention in his wizard's equipment, but in the end people here had gotten rather used to seeing visitors to house Clasz, and they all looked pretty much like that. Nobody bothered to look at him any longer than a brief glance, and thus nobody would be likely to notice his now somewhat hidden family tattoo. Harol did remember where the tavern was as they had nearly always stopped for a moment to stretch their legs (and some to quench their thirst) in this village. And there it was, the same old wooden building with one floor above ground and the actual rooms within the cellar. Harol had never understood the choice to build rooms of the tavern like that when there as an actual inn with better rooms above ground, but now he realized how useful that model was for people in tricky situations.

As Harol opened the door and held it open for Freya for a moment, the smell of the tavern rushed to meet him. Ale, sweat, wood, some smoke... all kinds of things really. Not really a place where Harol liked to be, but he stepped in to search for the man. Most tables had groups of people in them, betting on things, drinking down their money, debating loudly, and other such things. But in one table at the back sat a man dressed in leather armour with carved wooden decorations scattered here and there, with his black hair on his eyes that were apparently closed. That was him, no doubt about it. Harol looked at Freya and said: "That's him."

When the two of them entered the tavern and the to Freya familiar scents belonging to one entered her nose, Freya couldn't honestly say that she didn't like to smell the scents. Not because the scent of sweat and alcoholic drinks were pleasant to her, but because she always linked a tavern with a certain type of safety, and the smell belonging to it reminded her of that. After all, a fair amount of an average tavern's visitors were either too busy with something else to notice her, or simply enough too drunk. And the owner wouldn't exactly care who visited, as long as they paid for his service.

When Harol mentioned Noddy, Freya looked at him for a moment. He was quite remarkable, being so different from all other guests in the tavern. "You better be right about how much you can trust that man." Freya said to Harol, before she started walking towards the table the man was sitting at.

When one man, who Freya assumed was drunk proceeded to slap her butt as she passed, Freya stopped walking, grabbed the man's wrist and forced it onto his back in an uncomfortable and painful position. "Do that again, and I will cut your hand off. Understood?" She threatened as she glared at the man, her voice icy cold, unfriendly, threatening and intimidating, and an angered look in her eyes. When she continued to walk she could hear the insults shouted to her loud and clear, but she decided to ignore it.

When she reached the table Noddy was sitting at she stopped walking again and took place at the chair in front of Noddy, looking at him. "My friend has been told to ask your help when in trouble. He and I are in trouble right now." She said, still looking at him.

Harol followed Freya, and when the little spectacle with the drunk happened, he couldn't help himself smiling and almost laughing. The man was certainly not expecting to get any sort of reaction towards him, and while getting threatened was just the answer he deserved, the look on his face was priceless. But after the first wave of amusement had passed, Harol couldn't help but realize that he had been travelling with this person for about a day now. What stopped her from doing the same to him? That certainly was something he needed to be aware of. Well, for now it seemed like he was safe from such outbursts though.

Not too long after that, Freya reached Noddy's table and called for the man's attention. Noddy lazily opened his left eye, scanned Freya for a moment with his eye and then spoke back with a voice that sounded like it's owner had seen everything: "Well then what happens depends on your friend, for your shape does not look familiar to me." He then opened his right eye as lazily to the halfway point and turned to face Harol who had just sat into the table as well, and now pulled his hood back just a bit. As the tattoo came to his sight, Noddy's both eyes widened, and suddenly his voice gained a whole new undertone: The man was curious. "Well certainly I'll see to it whoever you are", Noddy said towards Freya, "as I owe the house of your friend here... what was it now... three more favours I think...? This place is a wee bit full of curious ears though, so if you don't mind we should go elsewhere." Noddy rose up from the table, and a slight clinking could be heard from his belt. There were three rings inbetween two blade sheaths, and these rings looked much like the ones in Harol's staff. Noddy made a little 'follow me' gesture, and moved towards the stairs at the back of the room.

Harol rose to follow the man and shared a few silent words with Freya: "Oh, so that's why... the man owes us ring favours... I'll explain in more detail later, but I assure you, we can trust him. We can trust nobody like we can trust him." Harol did not bother mentioning the fact that the man actually would not have any real reason to protect Freya as an individual, but Harol knew that as long as she was with him, he would have to. They moved to the downstairs area where Noddy opened one of the rooms with a key he was carrying and after letting everybody else in, he followed and closed the door behind him. "So, Arkdal", Noddy started and moved his fingers over the three rings on his belt, "what is it?" "We need to get to house Clasz, and this village happened to be on the way. We simply need a place to stay the night without fear, and then we can get there tomorrow", Harol answered to the question and took a look at Freya. Noddy placed his forefinger on his chin and muttered to himself "How to arrange, just how..." before adding "Certainly, let me just think a bit..." in a more audible voice.

While Freya had never heard of the term ring favours before, she didn't react too surprised or puzzled upon hearing it. After all Harol was a mage, and as she knew very little of mages, it could be expected that she would hear several things she didn't know of yet, as long as she was travelling with Harol. It only made sense, just like how it made sense that she had to explain various things to Harol, who didn't have any experience with rogues or being on the run before.

Despite what Harol said, Freya still let her hand rest on the handle of one of her daggers. It wasn't anything personal, but she still didn't trust Noddy. It was how she felt towards pretty much anyone else, and she had figured that was just one of the consequences of being wanted and continuously being on the run. And so far, that hadn't turned out to be such a bad thing.

As Noddy continued thinking and muttering things, Harol noticed Freya being awfully quiet. Well, she seemed to be cautious, and she was right. Even if Noddy was not the threat here and that was for certain, someone or something else could pop in unannounced and then it would certainly help to have somebody ready to fight... Although Harol himself knew he could not cast his spells within the village. That would cause way too much collateral damage. Sometimes it annoyed him he could not cast a simple ball of fire or something, but he was of House Arkdal. It was how he was trained. Maybe at Clasz they could teach him more simple tricks? At least he could ask.

Then Noddy seemed to get an idea. "I think I've got it", he said while lowering his fingers from his chin and donning a smile, "It stared me right in the face, but only now did I figure out it was possible. This room. Certainly there is only a bed for one, but I guess I could arrange something discreetly... no open questions so I don't draw attention to you two... And I'm used to staying awake in the night with little to no preparation time, so I can stand guard for the night. Indeed!" Now his smile was on a rather wide point and he still continued "Now Warlock, I provide a safe place for you, for her, and stand guard. Won't that be all three?" Harol's eyes widened for a moment, then he spoke back in an angered tone: "A greedy one, are we? Well two can play this game. You indeed provide us a safe place, but standing guard is a part of it. Besides it is only one place. I could say it is one."

Noddy was shocked by this, that could be clearly seen. Had he not expected Harol to be able to negotiate with him? Nevertheless, he scratched his head, trying to restore the smile that had disappeared from his face and continued negotiating: "Now now, let's at least say a safe place for you and her for two, okay? Fair for both of us?" Harol nodded and spoke "Well, now it has some sense in it. We'll see how well we sleep though. Two if no problems, one if something manages to disrupt us. Not including stuff outside of course if it is carriages or something, you cannot help that." "Guess that'll have to do..." Noddy answered and sighed slightly. "I'll go find something for the second bed. I think you, warlock, should stay here for you might draw attention... but you, dagger-wielder, you can come with me if you will. I could use some help in the acquiring..."

Freya looked at Noddy for a brief moment. Though he was quite a strange person to her and she didn't trust him, it seemed like a good idea to go along with him to her. Not so that she could help him to acquire a second bed in the room, but to keep an eye on him. Regardless of what Harol said or what kind of favours Noddy owed him, Freya wasn't willing to trust him, or anyone for that matter. She followed Noddy out of the room and towards the owner of the tavern to arrange things, supposing that Noddy knew where he was going.

"You don't trust me, do you, dagger-wielder?" Noddy asked after a moment of silence, having noticed her hand resting on her dagger a while ago already. "No, I do not trust you. But then again, I do not trust anyone." She answered. "Is that so? You seem to trust your friend of house Arkdal enough to sleep in one room with him." Noddy remarked. "Only because he asked me to protect him, and because he carries no daggers and is not capable of casting a harmful spell upon me without turning half of the village into ashes. Would he be foolish enough to turn his back to me, I can take him on."

Like Freya expected the second bed for in the room wasn't that hard to acquire, and she was glad the man wasn't asking any questions, possibly because they both agreed that the less he knew, the better. After all he only had to give them a second bed and as long as somebody would pay -with in this case Noddy being that somebody-, he didn't need to know who was staying in the room, meaning Harol and Freya would have nothing to worry about and the owner wouldn't get involved with anything.

The two of them walked back to the room where Harol was once they were done, this time not saying a word to each other.

As the two walked out of the door, Harol sat on the one bed in the room. His staff made another very audible series of clinks as the rings slid to their new position on the decorated head of the staff. "It's been quite the day..." Harol muttered to himself as he leaned the staff against his shoulder and reached for his lantern again. At last he had the chance to lighten up this load for a moment. Once the lantern, staff and several scrolls had been arranged into a neat pile between the bed and a closet, somewhere where it would not be in the way of the bed Noddy and Freya were fetching, Harol opened his grimoire. Every wizard had to be sure they remembered their incantations correctly.

But he did not have the time to even find what he was looking for when Noddy and Freya already returned, and he needed to rise up and help in setting the bed on its place. It was then when Harol noticed the light coming in from the small window had turned orange. Evidently the sun was setting, as it should be at this hour. Noddy had noted this as well, and now spoke to the two: "So, I'll be standing guard just outside the room if you need anything. I'm used to staying awake for the night on a moment's notice, you can rely on me. But, the room is all yours for the night. Sleep well!" Towards the end of his sentence, Noddy had made his way towards the door, and now that he had finished simply moved to the other side. "Also, there is a hook on the door that you might want to close, seeing I have the only key and cannot obviously lock you in", were the last words Noddy said before carefully he carefully shut the door. Harol quickly moved to it and closed the hook as instructed.

"So now we are here. Better than sleeping in the woods for sure", Harol tried to start some sort of conversation. "How's your arm, by the way? How much pain is the wound causing?" Harol sat on the bed next to which he had placed his belongings and looked at Freya with his head slightly tilted to the left. Noticing himself that he was again giving in to the childhood habit, he straightened his neck and waited for an answer. He would still have to go through a couple spells in his grimoire before bedtime, but there was a candle in the room if the conversation would take that long... and that was very unlikely anyway.

Freya shrugged. "It is hurting quite badly, especially after carrying that bed, but I have endured worse. It will take a while to heal, but my arm is still functioning, so I suppose I do not have anything to complain about." She said in reply to Harol's words, sitting down at the other bed. Lifting it might haven't been a very smart thing to do, but she supposed that if she'd just let her arm rest for a while, everything would be fine soon enough. And seeing as they would reach the house of Clasz the next day, or the day after that, she figured that once they had gotten there, she should be able to give her arm the rest it needed.

Freya took off her veil, hooded coat and brown leather gloves, and without worrying where they would land, tossed them carelessly into one of the corners of the room. It would be no use to keep them on, as they were alone in the room anyway. Although in one way Freya felt relieved that she didn't have to hide herself for a while, she also felt a little uncomfortable without it. Not because of her straight, long black hair or her now much better visible, light brown eyes. No, the reason she felt uncomfortable was because of the scar in her neck, caused by a cut that had been only one inch away from hitting something vital and being her death, was now visible too. It had been several years ago since anyone had seen her without her hood and veil, even if in a rare case she would be accompanying another rogue, and the last time she had taken off her veil while with someone, that someone had been her supposed husband on the night that he had been killed. She already had the scar in her neck back then, but apart from him nobody had ever seen it. Now, Harol was the second person to see that scar and she wasn't exactly glad that it was visible, but she supposed that it would seem quite strange to keep her veil on while they were alone.

"No need to keep those on while we are alone. After all, we know from each other that we are wanted and have no reason to turn the other in, so I might as well show my face for once. If you wish to, feel free to pull down your hood or anything." Once she was done talking Freya rubbed her neck and the scar on it for a brief moment, feeling embarrassed now that the scar would showing. What would he be thinking of it? She was a rogue, but somehow someone had managed to almost kill her, and her scar was showing that. It had to sound very incompetent.

Harol nodded once Freya had answered to the question. It was a flesh wound, but it didn't stop it from looking pretty nasty. Then she took off her veil. Harol found himself slightly surprised by it as she had had it on since the moment they had met, but after all why would she be keeping it on now that they were about to go to sleep? As his concentration returned more to what he was physically doing, Harol noticed his eyes were scanning the area of Freya's face he had not seen before. She had quite the charming hair and pretty eyes, but what really drew Harol's attention to itself was the scar. It was... rather large and judging by its location it must've been painfully close to hitting something important. However, Harol was afraid mentioning it would offend Freya, so he let it be.

However, his mind did not. As she had said when asked about the arm, she had indeed gone through worse. How could she have gotten that and how had she survived after it... well, these were questions to be asked much later if ever. After all, it is not very polite to go pointing out such things the first opportunity. This thinking was interrupted by Freya speaking again, mentioning how she really did not need to keep the clothing she had thrown into a corner on her person right now, and suggested Harol to lower his hood as well. "I still had it on?" Harol asked with a surprised voice and reached on his head with his right hand, finding the hood where he had left it. "Well would you look at that. I've got an excellent memory, do I not?" As he lowered said piece of cloth back to its place, he continued speaking: "But you are right, there is no need to hide our faces in here. We should be able to reach house Clasz tomorrow if nothing unexpected takes place. There at least I can lower my hood for a longer moment." And after having said that, Harol realized that he had accidentally managed to mention the scar anyway. Well, not straight up but close enough. Best try to avoid that matter for now.

Harol dragged his grimoire towards him, and placed it on his lap. For now, his robe would cushion his legs against the weight of the book, but he would have to take it off before actually going to sleep. They were comfy to wear, but they could fold pretty unpleasantly if one tried to sleep in them. Harol swallowed and opened the grimoire again on the page he had managed to mark before rising up to close the door. Now briefly glancing up from the pages before diving into his studies, he laughed shortly and rather silently and then said: "Isn't it funny how we are running for our lives here and I still bother with my studies? Oh, and if you notice there is something we should talk about, feel free to interrupt me. I'm just checking I still remember everything correctly." Now his eyes moved back down to the book, but he couldn't help his thoughts still flying around rather carelessly. "She is pretty good looking, I'll have to admit..." were the words that preceded the actual start of his studying within his mind. Scratching the tattooed side of his face, Harol started reviewing his understanding of Eredar's New Moon.

Freya was glad when it seemed to be the case that Harol wasn't going to mention her scar, she felt relieved and grateful for him not bringing it up. But after a moment he did, and the relief and gratefulness quickly made place for embarassment and a feeling of anger. Sure enough he didn't mention it straight out, but instead in a more subtle way, but he still did mention it. The scar being visible was already something Freya found worse enough, but the fact that Harol just had to mention it only made it more worse.

"I do not believe that there currently is anything I need or wish to discuss with you." Freya replied to Harol, before she took out her shoes and took off her belt. She put her shoes down down at the side of the bed, took a piece of fabric out of her pocket and removed her daggers from her belt. Once she had removed all of her daggers from it Freya tossed her belt at her small pile. Laying her daggers onto the bed carefully, she started to clean the blades of her daggers, paying no attention to Harol. After he mentioned her scars, the least thing Freya wanted was to talk with him.

Surely enough, maybe his subtle reference to her scar seemed very innocent in Harol's eyes and maybe he hadn't meant to offend or embarrass her, but Freya hated the scar more than any other part of herself and hated to be reminded of its existence.

As he was going through the necessary preparations for the spell, Harol could not help but hear the offended tone in Freya's voice. Well, she had taken it the worst way possible, after all it had not been his intention... it had been about her life as a rogue why she would hide her face, not because of the scar. But alas, she had misunderstood it just as he had feared. It couldn't be helped now, trying to explain would likely only make her angrier. As Freya polished up her daggers, Harol read on. The text was familiar to him, and it really did not require all that much to concentration. However, the information flowed on page after page, and Harol had barely made it to the next one (that being Rooftrellen's graceful incantation of earthen fury) once the sun had already almost fallen under the horizon. Harol stopped his stuides for a moment to light the candle he had observed earlier.

All out of a sudden, Harol found himself speaking: "I see I've offended you." As soon as the words had left his mouth Harol shook his head quickly and surprisingly undetectably. Why had he done that? Well, now that he had started, he shouldn't really leave it there. "When I spoke about the hoods, I simply meant the fact you are a wanted person like I, and as your way of surviving is not to trust anyone, I just thought you might not want to expose your face to all of house Clasz, but I guess you misunderstood me somehow. Well, cannot help it, such things happen." There, he just had to go and explain it, just what he had wanted to avoid earlier. Now she would undoubtedly be mad at him even more. Harol closed his eyes for a mere moment and took a deep breathe. 'Brace yourself', he thought to himself.

He returned to his original spot with the grimoire and reopened it on the Rooftrellen's incantation, lifting his right forefinger on the first words on the page. She knew she could interrupt him, so if she chose to spoke, he would listen. To shout, he would listen. To stay quiet, he would cope with it. Whatever was coming his way, Harol was prepared... well with the exception of something physical, but as he noticed this possibility, he now was ready for it as well. If you go and stoke the flames of anger in your attempt to suppress them... well, you better be prepared.