The Tale Teller

Ch 21

 Meal times had become a scattered mess for Vaun and Branoff. They ate when hungry, and dined on what little they had. After a rumble of Branoff's stomach, Celise had made sure to fix that.

She had readied a table close to the fire for their mid-day meal, laying out knives and plates, along with a tall pitcher of water. The bread was taken from the pan above the flames and offered along with butter and cheese. It was a modest meal, but it was like the sweetest story on Vaun's lips. It was warm, fresh, and filling. He could have kissed Celise all over again for preparing it.

She and Lindra dined with them, sitting across from Vaun and Branoff, chatting away about the latest gossip in town. A girl their age who Vaun only faintly remembered was to be married to the last man they expected her to choose. Her true love had run off with a widow with children nearly as old as he, and the situation seemed to be the most interesting thing to the townspeople.

Lindra talked of it more than Celise, her eyes alive with the news as her hands flew around her face telling the story. Branoff listened, adding a grunt here and there as he traced the butter from his plate with his finger. Vaun wanted to do the same, to grab every last bite he could, but he knew Celise would only give him a firm kick beneath the table for his ill-manners. It was another side of her that reminded him of her mother.

"I might take a walk after this." He let the last word linger a sec, looking between the two girls for confirmation that the idea wasn't as bad a one as he feared.

Lindra nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward with another story to tell. "Jianne has started embroidering handkerchiefs for some extra coins and Esnine is selling them in her shop. You should have a look! Jianne's' trying to convince Celise to do the same."

"Hm, I'm more suited to practical sewing though. Aprons and such."

"I'm sure many aged ladies with hands too sore to stitch would be grateful if you made them. It might be a good job for you." Anything was better than turning the inn into a whore house.

As though she could read Vaun's thoughts, she shot him a glare. "Perhaps."

The conversation soon switched to clothes and such things, a subject Vaun knew little about. Lindra dominated it, but it suited the situation well. Both Branoff and Vaun were too busy eating to say much, and Celise was too deep in a world of her own.

She looked sad, and Vaun couldn't fault her. They'd talked a little after their kiss in his room about how she had been unable to sleep with the man or attempt the life of a whore ever again. They'd kissed again after that, and again after she'd told him she'd missed him, and gave her own apologises for opening a letter that wasn't her own and invading his privacy. It was nice that she had learnt her lesson, as Vaun had learnt his. There was still a tension between them though, a block that made it feel as though there was still so much left to say and share before the waters could be clear.

As much as Vaun wanted to sort things as soon as possible, it would be good for them both to come to terms with his arrival and to settle their minds and emotions.

Once their meal was complete, Branoff went to tend to the horse he had moved into the field behind the inn, whilst Vaun travelled into the streets of Cragbarrow.

He had no clear plan of where he was going, but now that the guards were here, curiosity made him search for the signs of change. Unlike Darkharbour, no flags flew in merchants colours, or no boys were stripped and marched through the streets. People walked around as though it was a memory from a year or so past, and Vaun wasn't sure how it made him feel. I gave a false sense of comfort and familiarity that she knew he couldn't allow himself to sink into.