Della took a couple of sips from her mug of ale - the diluted taste wasn't at all uncommon and something Della had grown accustomed to. She sat pondering for a few minutes, her mind absorbed by the idea of actually doing something other than travelling. She noticed a few others enter the tavern out the corner of her eye and regarded the scene thoughtfully. She had claimed a nice corner, which meant everyone else was in her line of sight and she could watch - people watching was something of a hobby of Della's. She felt a stab of pity for the barmaid, who was being called left, right and centre as new customers filed in.

Her gaze stubbornly returned back to the poster. Yes. She would sign up. She would do something brave for once in her short, lonely life. She took another determined gulp of her ale, as if she was sealing the deal with herself. But not tonight. Tomorrow. Maybe.

She threw another few coins out in front of her in signal to any bar staff passing to top up her drink. She couldn't afford a room and would probably end up sleeping on the streets tonight, so she might as well spend the little money she did have on aiding that uninviting sleep. She didn't typically allow herself to get drunk; it was a reckless thing to do. But so was joining Liaryn's army. And so was accidentally killing her grandmother.

The latter argument was hard to disagree with.

She barely tasted the second mug of ale and her thoughts became a little hazy at the edges and hard to distinguish after her third. Normally so cautious and desperate not to be noticed, she didn't care as she felt her hood slip down, revealing her vibrant red hair. She sang along with the other drunkards - not caring that her voice resembled that of a tortured cat - her purpose in this small town long forgotten.

It didn't take a lot of ale nor time to make Della forget.