[sup]ft. [@Leidenschaft] and [@Stormflyx][/sup]

Wheat was grounded in a wooden bowl with blue flower petals, its powdery germ caking with the plant’s moisture. A green egg was cracked into it as a binding agent and continued to be mixed until the mixture became like batter, and water was gradually whisked into the developing potion. Bruno wasn’t much of an alchemist. He saw himself as having no aptitude for magic, and what he did know of alchemy he just chalked up to basic medicine and was only a little better than eating raw poppy. He just knew that some ingredients had anti-inflammatory properties and that he could combine them. How much that would help Janus, though…

Bruno looked over the man sleeping in his bed, the salve over his wounds staining his bandages, and the medicine bowl on the nightstand empty. Either way, Janus was going to live. Whether or not he’d wake soon, or whether he’d still be in pain when he did, was uncertain.

The chair he sat in was by the bed’s foot, and his face was inches away from the only window in the cabin. An arrow was knocked on his short bow, firmly in the man’s grip. Bozo was as restless and alert as he was, it seemed, with a low growl perpetually sitting at the base of the dog’s throat, ready to bark the moment something was off. He was a well-trained and dutiful hound that seemed to ignore the requests for affection from Bruno’s guests, who was grateful to have a companion who’d keep watch should everyone else fall asleep. But sleep, he suspected, wasn’t going to find him tonight. Nor should it, for his home his last bastion and he wasn’t about to let it fall. He made a point of telling the others to keep quiet and to not make any light so that it would stay that way.

The sound of groaning from behind called for him, but the shepherd's eyes didn’t peel away from the fence outside.

“You owe me new bed covers.” Bruno grumbled.

“Ain’t crawled myself in here.” Janus squinted out at the big, dark silhouette of Bruno. More so from the headache, and he figured his irritability could be blamed on the same. “How long?”

“Not too long. Couldn’t have been more than an hour.” Bruno finally turned to look at his newly awakened guest. He still looked like he was in rough shape. “Sorry if you still feel like shit. I ain’t much of a doctor, I only know a few tricks. How are you holding up?”

“Ah,” Janus said, trying to sit up, but the words halted in his throat in a grunt when his body wanted nothing of that. He conceded and remained laying, “Could’ve swore you looked like a chirurgeon from the cities.”

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark room. There was almost no difference between the umbras of Bruno’s house and the sky outside. He looked at the big man’s gleaming eyes in the darkness, and then looked away, “I’m alive.” Janus said simply, “Figure that’s about as best an outcome as any.”

“Do you always do that?” He asked. “Crazy and stupid things, I mean, like charging toward your death. You’re lucky it wasn’t the sharp end that hit your head, lest you be tithing it to that monster’s shoulders.” 

“I’d have done the rational thing, you and me wouldn’t be talking right now.”

“It’s impossible to say what would’ve happened, but by Akatosh, we’re here now.” Bruno sighed, looking back out the window. Still no sign of life -- or unlife, as it was now. Then again, it was still too dark to tell, and he was simply looking for any changes in shadow. “Your horse is outside and everyone else is safe. You might be crazy, but I’ll be damned if you haven’t earned your keep.”

“Oh, what consolation that is.” Janus said deadpan, growling as he fought through the hundred aches he felt just to win the battle of sitting up, “I left my sword. Don’t think they make them like that up here neither.”

“Don’t have any spares lying ‘round?” Janus fixed Bruno with a small smile.

“You still have that axe, don’t ya? How many weapons do you need? Never mind that, I already gave you my bed.” He replied with a chuckle. It quickly subsided though, and he exhaled a long and tired sigh. Then, he asked, “Where did you get your training? You might look like one of them brigands infesting the roads, but you sure as hell don’t move like ‘em. You ain’t a mercenary either, because every damn merc I ever met is looking for work and won’t shut the hell up about how good they are. So, what is it?”

Janus’ eyes went to where Bruno’s were, wishing he at least had a crossbow to aim past the fence posts. He wouldn’t be crossing blades any time soon, but he could still shoot. He sighed, deciding not to avoid Bruno’s question any longer, “Ain’t a Legion man.” Janus said, hushed as if the dead might stir, “Just someone with skills the Empire wanted. Back then, I was more’n happy to.”

“Call me a patriot. But... I’d have done it for any reason back then, being honest.” He looked down at his hands, bloody and scabbed and scarred. “‘Fore tonight, I thought them days were done.”

“Anyway, the sword’s important.” It was a few long moments filled only with the chirping of crickets and a soft breeze before Janus wanted to turn the conversation away from where he’d come, “You’re handy with that axe.”

It didn’t surprise Bruno that his guest was a soldier. He might’ve looked a fool, but there was discipline about him even if it wasn’t always obvious. He was coy though, so the man must’ve had more brains than your average foot soldier. Whatever his story was, he didn’t intend on pressing for more details than that.

“It’s easier chopping logs, if I’m being honest.” Bruno answered. “But I live out here on my own, and the guards don’t patrol this far out. It ain’t the first time I had to turn the axe on somethin’ else. Actually the company is even worse out by the Reach, believe it or not.”

“I do.” Janus said, “There’s a reason nobody takes the high passes into Shornhelm and Northpoint.”

“If you’ve got an extra bow, I can help keep watch.” Janus offered, “I’ll take a shift.”

“You can barely sit up.” Bruno scoffed. “Even if I had another, I don’t think you could pull a hundred pound draw in your condition.”

“Fair ‘nough.” Janus said, another small smile as he settled back down in the bed, “Figure I’ve earned my keep already either way. You need another stupid thing done, I’m right here.”

There wasn’t enough room in Bruno’s cabin to sneak around in, and no other rooms to disappear into — and still, Joy managed to move quietly to the bedside, having kept herself busy for the most part in assisting Henry with making bandages. Maybe it was the silence, and the intense need to just [i]talk[/i] that brought her to Bruno and Janus — a damp cloth in one hand, and a neat velvet pouch in the other. “Hmmm,” she began, timid compared to the boisterous bard she had been in the bar. An image of darkness had crept to mind, and her instinct had been to come to the men. 

“I brought this,” she said, with however much of a smile as she could muster. “I can-“ she stopped and shook her head, just setting down on her knees at the side of the bed anyway. That tiny flicker of courage had her take the Imperial’s hand. The Nord was careful so as not to disturb his body, and she began to dab and wipe away at the blood that had collected there — dry and turning brown from the air. If he was fine with throwing himself at a demonic creature for her, he would have to be fine with letting her help him. 

Janus only closed his eyes and let Joy work on the big knot on his face. The reminder of the pain brought an image of that scene in the sky, so unnatural and… demonic. A word he hadn’t used since the days of young Jan in his priest robes. He mustered up a smile for Joy, “I couldn’t die.” He said, laying patiently as she dabbed at his brow, “Not before I’d bought you that drink.”

“Is that what this is about?” She replied with a smile, her brow quirked upwards as she gently ran the cloth across his hairline. Joy eyed up the rest of his wounds, mostly covered now thanks to Bruno, whom she regarded with a smile and a nod of her head. “I should be the one buying [i]you[/i] a drink — both of you.” She paused, glancing at Bruno again. “Wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you both.” 

“Hope the accommodations are to your liking.” Bruno said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. A light deflection too, perhaps. He was fully aware that his cabin probably wasn’t to anybody’s liking, given its lack of both space and amenities. Bruno lived off of bare essentials, but at least everything was homemade, as small a comfort that might be. Though he wasn’t necessarily an expert in any one thing, so that comfort might be very small indeed.

A strange comment to make to a woman who’d never had so much of a home to call her own. A roof over her head, sure. Not that Bruno knew, or needed to. “Actually, I think your cabin is beautiful,” Joy’s head tilted to the side, and she curled her bare toes against the floorboards. She was completely sincere. “I’m sorry circumstance called for us to overrun it for the night,” she added with a dry laugh - turning her attention to Janus’s injury again. 

Bruno looked down from the window at Joy’s feet. It was obvious a thought flashed across his face, something that softened his hard gaze for just a moment, before he leaned back and stared back out the window. Her words were kind, but he was sure that they both knew that there was no other option. He shrugged off the compliment and breathed in deeply the night air, the slight traces of Daggerfall smoke stinging his nose.

“Joy, right?” Bruno asked. “You should pull the trunk out from under the bed. It shouldn’t be that heavy.”

With a nod back at the Nord, Joy simply hummed in response “mhmm.” That was interesting though, a trunk under the bed? She let the cold cloth settle against Janus’ temple before scooching over to grab a handle. The woman couldn’t help but notice the patient dog at Bruno’s side either, but she dared not disturb him. He was right, it wasn’t all that heavy but she was also stronger than she looked. “Do you have more bandages in here?” She asked him, looking up at him from the floor. 

The man shook his head, simply gesturing to her to open the trunk. It was unlocked, and the sight inside was at least a little peculiar. It was only filled up almost halfway, and the contents were all different clothes. A quick look at Bruno and it was easy to tell that they were much too small to fit him. One stack was probably half his size and another was probably only big enough for children. Beside the carefully folded stacks of clothes however, as Joy would be quick to notice, were fur boots and shoes. None of them looked like they were ever worn, though.

“If they’re too big, I could probably fill out the toes with wads of cotton or linen.” Bruno said, still looking out the window and his voice low. “I’m not much of a cordwainer or cobbler, but I hope they’ll do you just fine.”

Joy held them up into as much of the light as she could, they looked fine. It wasn’t something she couldn’t take her own needles to if need be. In the moment, she felt fortunate for Bruno — and even more gratitude. That swell of emotion got the better of her and she flung herself upwards towards the huge man, wrapping her arms around his wide shoulders and placing her head into his neck. “Thank you, thank you,” she whispered. It wasn’t happiness. Any happiness that could have been found there was drowned by the severity of the ominous situation. 

He was overtaken by surprise, and all that the other nord could do, is slowly and awkwardly wrap his arm around her and gently pat her back a few times. He breathed in the night air deeply as he looked back out the window. He might have been slightly uncomfortable with the sudden touch, but he did manage to find a moment of solace in Joy’s warmth in the face of the night’s chill. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “they weren’t seeing much use anyway.”

Janus took the cloth from his head and placed it on the nightstand, chancing a look outside and finding his eyes still drawn to the blackness there. Flashes of the writhing serpent and the ghostlights ran through his mind and he shook his head, turning away from the window. That sight put fear in him more stabbing than any number of the walking dead, or even the Headless Rider. The unholy wailing like nails to his ears. He wondered why he’d been left alive, why they hadn’t been run down when he was dying in the saddle and killed. He hadn’t realized he was squeezing the rag or breathing hard until he felt his fist shaking.

The smell of smoke in the air brought back memories, the sight of the inn ablaze drudging up his past, and the past was nowhere he wanted to go. His hands yearned for a bottleneck and his mouth ran dry. For once, he couldn’t bare to lay still and sleep. The bed creaked with his effort and he soon found himself with the hard-fought victory of sitting on the edge of the bed. No matter how great his thirst though, he knew his body wasn’t going to let him make the long trek to his saddlebags. He admitted defeat once more and sat hunched over, knees resting on his thighs as he stared past the floor and straight back into that night sky, “I saw it.” He said, “I’ve heard stories of the dead walking, foul magicks and dark powers. And I saw it all.”

He swallowed, “Why in all the Hells am I still alive?”

Bruno looked over Joy’s shoulder, his hard countenance finally changing into something softer. Concern washed over him as the old soldier forced himself upright and bemoaned his own survival. There was nothing he could say, he thought, that could truly set his mind at ease. But if they were all gonna survive the night, everyone’s morale had to be up.

“Maybe you’re just better than you thought.” Bruno said simply. “Count yourself lucky. Or don’t. Either way, Talos ain’t done with you yet. You’d be best off making the most of this chance you were given.”

Joy let go of Bruno to watch Janus move and sit himself up, she felt a tight knot form in her stomach as she heard him speak. His pain and fear ran deep. She could feel it. Her concern were his wounds, if he didn’t lay back down he’d risk reopening, hurting himself more. She shot a worried sidelong glance at Bruno before excusing herself from him, approaching Janus gingerly, her posture soft and unthreatening. 

At first she placed her hand over his shaking fist, she could feel the white-hot of his knuckles against the flat of her own palm and she came steadily to sit beside him. “You’re still here because you are. We all are,” Joy said, whisper quiet. She turned her gaze to the sky too, the burning orange casting sparkling freckles into her blue eyes. “You’re alive because you did good, because you’re strong.”

“I suppose.” He said to the both of them. For the first time in his life, he was met with a problem that wasn’t a simple question of who could get their blade clear of its scabbard first. Perhaps they could go East, to Skyrim. Or sail for Hammerfell. Or perhaps no amount of running was enough to escape. Their only option was to fight, to survive. “I don’t suppose we have a plan of action?”

Joy had no ideas, she didn’t have the knowledge that anyone else in the room would for planning survival past the night. Where to go, what to do. Still, she took in a deep breath and spoke again. “Only plan I’ve got is to get you to lie down again so you don’t get hurt more than you are now.” Her hand came up to meet his shoulder, as if she would begin pushing him back down if he didn’t do so himself. He did just that, grunting back to lay on the bed and offering Joy a small smile.

“Survive the night.” Bruno muttered. “See if the dead can walk beneath the sun. Supposing this night ever ends, that is…” The shepherd watched the deadlights dance, the constellation of the Serpent writhing in the sky. A blink later and they were back where they were, only for the optical illusion to begin anew. The stars were supposed to be guardians. What purpose was the Serpent serving here and why has its light cast a shadow upon its kin? His eyes turned toward the cellar. They were all going to need a few drinks before this night was over.

“I’ll just rest then,” Janus said from the bed, unable to do anything else but. Deep within his mind’s eye though, he couldn’t escape the gaze of that big serpent on high, nor keep the wails of those stars from chilling him deep as his bones, “We’ll need every blade to bear.”