It's About Time

Bedroom - 


 * ''A cozy, comfortable affair, this bedroom is tucked into a corner of the house, behind an oaken door. The walls are painted with a cream-colored paint, and a high window is set in the wall across from the door, looking out into the street and framed by heavy maroon curtains, to be drawn shut for privacy. Against one wall, is a bed, just large enough for two and covered with rather comfortable sheets, while opposite it stands a fireplace, lit on the coldest nights to keep the room toasty, and just by the bed is a rug to protect bare feet. There is little decoration in the room - just enough to make it appear quite lived in.

Taran's laid out on the bed, still tired and thoroughly bandaged, but his color's coming back to something approaching normal. Zia's perched on the floor beside the bed, and they seem to be talking quietly.

Muri opens the door carefully and peeks around the door. Seeing Zia and Taran, she smiles and enters, softly closing the door behind her. "G'eve," she says. "Tis good t'seen ye, Missus, Messer." She steps toward the bed, critically scanning the prone form of the mage. "Aye, looks lahk Missus Adrianna's been tendin' too. Dats good." She look around the room for a chair, and seeing none, leans against the wardrobe. "'ow ye be, Missus?" She is watchful of Zia.

Zia waves Muri in, smiling. "Evening," she returns. "He says Adri dropped by last night and had him drink some sort of tea, aye. How've you been?" She shrugs, tilting her head to return Muri's watchful look.

Muri nods. "Ah'm glad t'ear 'e's well 'nuff's fer healin' tea," she says. "Missus Adri's a fine 'ealer Ah 'eard tell." She pauses and looks thoughtful. "Didja talk wid Messer Griedan las' night? 'E lookd lahk 'e needed a fren'."

Zia shakes her head. "Adri and mini-Taran showed up after you left, and he talked to them. I didn't want to intrude."

Taran blinks a few times before opening his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "Must have dozed off."

"Awww," Muri muses. "Ah'd 've lahkd t'see de little one. Ah 'spects 'e aint so little no mores. Such a sweet family." As Taran rouses, Muri pushes off the wardrobe and looks over to him. "Why g'eve, Messer," she says to 'im. "Ah 'spects we'll be seein' more o'ye wid de stren'th yer gainin'." She smiles.

"Good morning." Zia smirks at Taran before turning back to Muri. "Griedan just left, actually." Taran blinks. "Morning? Surely...not so long a nap, you have not changed clothes..." He frowns faintly at Muri. "Little but waking and speaking at present, it seems."

Muri chuckles, but lets Zia continue her teasing. "Tis well," she replies. "Doh ye 'ad quite a few sore worried fer ye."

Zia laughs. "If the window were curtained, I'd try to talk you into believing it's been hours," she warns Taran. "But no."

Taran closes his eyes, or perhaps they drift closed. "Who worries in Crown's Refuge? People go out all the time..."

"Few come back lookin' more lahk a colander lahk ye did," Muri replies dryly. "W'en ye las' et, Messer? Ah c'n 'eat some stew fer ye, if'n ye thin' ye c'n tol'rates it." She nods to Zia. "Ye also, hrm?"

Zia gives Taran a *look*. "You almost died," she points out. "We thought you *were* dead. Aye, people worry." Looking to Muri, she nods. "Do you need help making it?"

Taran smiles faintly. "People only worry if they know," he says softly. "Didn't think many did. Stew...would be very nice thank you."

Muri nods. "Not t'worries, Missus," she says. "Just gotta git a few bowls and such. Ah'll brung it right back." She heads out the door without a word.

Zia watches Muri go, offering her a wave as she vanishes through the door. "Aye, you did," she says to Taran. "Me, Sandrim, Muri, Griedan, Adrianna. Probably Naoi by now, too. See?"

"Who...would tell Naoi?" asks Taran, puzzled.

"She had a rune, didn't she?" Zia reminds.

Taran mmms. "But would she know what it meant...or might mean?"

"She can probably guess enough to be worried," Zia says, and then shakes her head. "Don't worry about it now. She is... probably in Sun's Keep. Out of reach."

Taran frowns. "I don't like people worrying about me. There are so many other things..."

Zia makes a face, simply stating, "Mmph." Pause, and she adds, "Like I said, nothing to do about it anyway." Zia and Taran haven't moved.

Muri enters the room expertly balancing a tray carrying steaming bowls of stew, fresh bread and mugs of tea. "ere, den," she says brightly. "Some sup fer ye bofth." She sets the tray on an empty spot on the bed and serves Zia first. "C'n ye sits up, Messer or would ye lahk me t'elps?" Taran closes his eyes. "Mmm. I think I will need help."

Zia smiles as she accepts hers. "Thank you, Muri," she says softly, and rises from her seat to help Muri reposition Taran.

Muri bustles over to Taran, arranges pillows, then gingerly wraps her arms under his arms. "Alrighty den," she murmurs. "Jus' scoot up a bit against dese pill'ers 'ere." If Taran gains a bit more familiarity with Muri's breasts, well, hopefully he enjoys the moment. Muri, though, is being all nursey. Once he's settled, she releases him and retrieves his stew. "C'n ye manage de spoon, Messer?"

Taran doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, he's being pretty chivalric about it. The movement seems to be painful and tiring, and he eyes the stew as if a personal challenge....before surrendering. "No."

"Did you get some for yourself, Muri?" Zia asks, moving forward a step. "I can help him and you can eat, if you'd like?"

Muri nods and scoots to the opposite side of Taran so he can still talk with Zia and have a clear view. "Tis alrights, Messer," she soothes, as she spoons the stew up. "Tis 'ot, so goed slow. Mostly brofth fer ye." She shakes her head. "Ah'm fine, Missus," she says. "Ah et afore Ah come." She offers the bit to Taran and continues at intervals at his leisure.

Taran *can* work his jaw, talker that he is, and seems glad to have something more solid than tea at least. "Mmmm. Thank you."

Zia nods, and takes up a seat on the foot of the bed, bowl in one hand and spoon in the other. "It's good," she compliments Muri, smiling a bit between bites. She considers her next spoonful before it passes between her lips. Chew. Swallow. "Makes me wonder if you miss working at the Trout?"

Muri carefully spoons another bite for Taran and nods. "Sometime'," she says. "Ah lahk de cookin', 'course, but Ah'm glad not t'ave t'be on me feet all days. Ah've been thinkin' o'askin' Mysra if'n she thought dey need some 'elp up at de tavern she work at. D'lady Celeste haint 'ad time t'build de new chapel yet. Don' rightly knowd if'n she gonna still do dat wot wid 'er leavin' off Ordin'atin' now." She sets the bowl aside and offers the mug to Taran. "Tea?"

Taran nods slightly. "Thank you."

Zia nods. "They'd probably be happy to have your help," she speculates. A thoughtful glance at Taran, and back to Muri: "Are you still planning on being... steward, or whatever it was?"

Muri eases the cup to the man's lips and tilts it for him to sip. After a moment she withdraws the mug, dripping a bit of liquid on his chin and blanket. "Aye, me sorries," she murmurs, drawing out a napkin from under the mug. She mops up the spill, then sets to spooning more stew for Taran. "Ah'd lahk dat," she says. "Takin' caer o' a place, a special sort o'place would be good. But Ah 'spects d'lady haint got a lot o'coin fer dat, so Ah thin' Ah'll 'ave t'do a bit more t'git t'rough de winter. Oh! Ah clean fergit, Ah've been meanin' t'aks, Missus. Will ye 'ave time t'makes a few thin's fer me? A bed, some tables an' such fer de new 'ouse?"

Taran seems quite focused on the simple mechanics of eating and drinking, and says nothing.

Zia's face splits into a bright grin at that, and she nods. Her spoon lowers once more to her bowl as she speaks. "Of course I can. A bed... how many tables, and what else? I can make it." Muri grins, excited to be talking about her new home. "Wahl Ah'd lahk a table fer de front room big 'nuffs fer at least mayhaps 8 'r 10 folk t'eats at, den Ah'll need a washboard 'n counter fer de kitchen. Chairs fer de table, aye, an' two beds 'n chairs fer de sleepin' spaces, an' a chest fer each too." She stalls, thoughtful, the spoon of stew hovering near Taran's lips. "Wot all else ye thin's, Missus?" She offers the spoonful to Taran.

Taran accepts it, though it's clear enough he's tiring fast. Once it's downed, he nods forward some.

Zia smiles, counting those off on her fingers. "So... washboard, counter... lots of chairs, two beds, two chests. Desk? Wardrobe?" She shrugs. "If I miss something, you can find me later, too." She watches Taran slump forward a little, and makes as if preparing to catch him should he start to fall.

Muri frowns slightly as Taran slips to sleeping. "Aye me," she murmurs, setting the bowl aside, then gently easing him back down. "Dere now, Ah 'spects ye needs more res', Messer." She takes a pillow out from behind his shoulders and adjusts the others so he's semi-reclined. She looks back to Zia. "Mmm...aye, dats quite a lot?" she replies. "Ye jus' tells me wot all ye need t'pay fer de materials, den once tis all done, we c'n settles on de wage."

Zia smiles faintly as Taran slides into sleep just that fast, but makes a face at Muri nevertheless. "Ai. The money's not important. It's not like I'm about to go broke, and unless some major things have changed, wood isn't expensive." She shrugs. "A battle, I suspect, we'll have to have at some point." She grins.

Muri raises a brow. "Ah haint t'fightin' wid ye, Missus," she says, mock serious. "Ye jus' takes wot Ah gives ye wid a smiles. But ye gotta et too, so de fu'st thin' would be knowin' dat y'll allus 'ave a place at me table." She nods, then checks Taran one more time before slipping off the bed and gathering up the leftovers. "Poor thin'," she murmurs. "'e'll be well 'n all soon, but till den, gonna be slows fer 'im."

Ziavri laughs. "It *is* going to be a battle, and we both know it. Probably just as hard a one as the one I fought with Meian over that damn broom." She makes a face again. "She got sly, there, but I won't give you those details lest you get any ideas." She shakes her head, looking to Taran's sleeping form and letting out a light sigh. "It's a minor miracle he made it out as lucky as he did. The Silent Forest isn't exactly a fairground."

Muri nods. "Few places out de Wilds dat aways, Ah heard tell," she says. "Ah wunner why 'e goed out dere." She glances back at Zia. "Ah twas 'opin' t'goed out de Wilds ag'in afore winter, but Ah 'spects dere'll be too little time fer dat now." She is obviously saving her fighting words for another day.

Zia smiles wryly and shakes her head. "No. You know, the day before he got it into his head to wander off to the Silent Forest alone, we nearly got struck by lightning, trampled by a herd of frightened Bovidae, and eaten by a wildcat in the space of an hour." She shakes her head, and pauses. "Are you busy lately? Sandrim or Aes could probably take you... I'm getting there, but I don't know that I'd risk *that*, yet."

Muri shakes her head. "Aes been busy doin' such 'n'all dat Ah 'ave trouble findin' 'im," she says with a grin. "Messer Sandrim lahk t'be watchin' o'er Messer Taran, Ah 'spects. Nay, me next trip c'n waits, leastwise till Ah gits de 'ouse done. Gotta find dat metalsmifth ag'in. Wot were 'is name? Messer Reefus? 'e say 'e gonna make me a proper stove 'n' oven." She falls silent for a moment. "Ah wunner wot evah 'append t'Messer Mareten."

Zia's smile takes on a faint, sad hint and she shrugs. "I haven't the slightest... last I saw him was months ago." She sighs and shakes her head. "I have a book you can borrow, about living outside the cities. It applies pretty well to the Wildlands... at least as far as what you can eat and what you can't, and how to get it, and where to take shelter... that sort of thing."

Muri blinks. "A book?" she asks, hesitant. "Ye gots yer own book? Ah haint ne'er seen one 'ceptin' in a noble's 'ouse. 'ow'd ye git it?"

Zia grins, reaching to her pack and drawing out a battered, leather-bound book. The pages are yellowed and delicate, the parchment dog-eared, smeared in places where the ink hadn't quite been allowed to dry properly. But it's legible. "I have my ways," she says with a small, sly smile. "I... can't read it terribly well, anyway. You'll probably get more use out of it.

Muri gingerly takes the book from the woman. "Caint say Ah knowd readin' better den ye, Missus," she murmurs. "Ah larned me letters, aye, 'n c'n writ a letter if'n Ah need it...." She opens the book, squinting at the printing. "But dis, wahl, Ah'll try." She looks very unconvinced. "Thankee fer thinkin' o' me."

Zia smiles a little, and traces letters into the sheets beside her. Z I A V R I. "That's about as much as I know... most of my letters--all of them, if I think about it--some of the sounds." She sighs, a faint, embarrassed hint of color coming to her. "Naoi taught me most of that."

Muri tilts her head and nods. "Aye?" she says. "Ah dinnae knowd ye spent much time wid 'er. Good t'knowd 'ow t'make yer name, such."

Zia sighs, looking wistfully away to the window and the moonlight which creeps around the edges of the rainclouds and pools on the floor of the little room. "Aye... I spent a lot of time with her," she confesses. "You remember when she nearly drowned? When they were building the flood barriers at Hunter's Horn? I got plenty of practice sitting by bedsides then. Almost every day. That's when she taught me that much."

Muri nods. "Ah 'members," she says, a touch of bitterness in her voice. "Brung 'er back meself." She sighs and shakes her head, trying to clear some ill away. "Ah'm sure she twas glad fer ye bein' dere. Doh, 'ow ye managed t'git pas' dat tongue o'ers." She chuckles. "Dat gal could take de shine off a new pot wid one waspy word if she decide it."

Zia smiles a little. "She's sharp, aye, but mostly because that's all she knows to be." She shrugs, and looks to Muri with a tilted head. "You regret bringing her back, now?"

"Nay," Muri replies. "Twas de right thin' t'do. Jus'...wahl, wid all de troubles dat follow'd, Ah'm not sure wot t'feel 'bout 'er now. She young, aye, prone t'make mistakes, but still...Wahl, lahk as not Ah'll not see 'er ag'in. Ah'm 'opin' she's safe where she is, an' 'as nuff sense not t'comes back t'Fas'eld ag'in. Dey'll not be so mercyfilled if'n dey catch 'er."

Zia sighs, drawing one knee to her chest and lowering her chin to rest on it. "Aye," she agrees softly. "So do I."

Muri's brows knit. "Dere ye goed ag'in," she says, looking worried.

"Mm?" Zia looks up, looking vaguely puzzled as she contemplates Muri. "There I go again? What's the matter?"

Muri nods towards Zia. "Look at ye all curled up," she says. "Ye was lahk dat las' night w

Muri nods towards Zia. "Look at ye all curled up," she says. "Ye was lahk dat las' night when we was talkin' 'bouts wot ye don' want t'talks about. Somefin' 'bouts Missus Naoi, Ah'm thinkin' an' mayhaps dis sleepin' bard o'ourn." She quirks a brow. "Ye feels up t'talkin' now dat Messer Griedan haint about?"

Zia smiles wryly, letting her foot slide off the edge of the bed and clasping her hands in her lap instead. "I'm sorry, Muri," she apologizes. "I've just... had a bad couple of months."

Muri sighs and regards her friend carefully. "Don' gotta 'pologize," she says. "An' Ah'm sorry de las' few months been 'ard, but sometimes talkin' it t'rough 'elps, aye? Ye don' gotta feel alones 'bout it all."

"I know," Zia answers placidly. "I'm just... not ready to talk about most of it, aye?"

Muri nods. "All rights," she says. "Ah won' press no mores." She presses her lips together and sighs. "Ye knowd, Aeseryi gave me fright de ofver nights," she says. "Him talkin' 'bouts wantin' a family..."

"Thank you," Zia says softly, honest gratitude in her voice. She tilts her head curiously as that comes up, though. "I thought you wanted that?"

"Me?" Muri replies, incredulous. "Ah haint ne'er thought much fer it. Ah raised me two younger sisters an' dat were quite 'nuffs. Don' 'spects a family comin' from me an' Aes..." She blushes. "Nay, dats wot got me worried, but den 'e say 'e wants brofvers an' sisters an' cousins an' da's and ma's." She chuckles. "Ah don' thin' 'e quite unnerstan' wot 'e's meanin'."

Zia laughs. "All right. I can't blame you for that one. But... brothers and sisters... usually parents... those are not so bad? I don't know where he'd *find* them, but they are not so bad to have around, most of the time?"

"Ah don' wan' Aes anywheres near m'kin," Muri says firmly. "Don' knowd 'ow it all goed wid syladris. Seems dey all should be related some'ows, aye? But wid dem jus' wakin' up and nay bein' raised, wahl, dere's more t'bein' family den bein' born, aye?"

"Aye," Zia says softly. "But who, Muri? Other Syladris? They have hardly any concept of what family is. What Wildlander calls himself Aeseyri's father, or herself his sister? And among the Fastheldians?" She sighs. "There's you, I think. Just you."

Muri nods. "But not so much sister, ye knowd?" she replies. "Caint rightly say we're e'en troth'd...Why we got marryin' 'mongst us folk, ye fidger? Ah means, de Firelights an' de Stonehammers set rightly, but Ah'm not sure Ah'm dat sort."

Zia smiles and shakes her head. "No, I don't mean you're his sister... I mean out of all the people in the world, you're more family to him than anyone else." She shrugs. "Did he ask you to marry him?"

"Oh Light no!" Muri exclaims with a shake of her head. "Trufth t'tell 'e were terrified wen Ah tol' 'im...when Ah say dat...A twas more den fond o' im. Thinks dat Ah'll be sad one day an' leave 'im. Seems dere's been wimmin's dat done dat afore. Dats wot surprised me, 'im sayin' 'e wanted a family."

Zia smiles a little. "Aye. I see... Maybe he won't ask you at all?" Pause. "What do you think you'd say, if he were to ask you... tomorrow."

At first, the cook looks flustered, then Muri eyes Zia. "Ye got me tellin' stories, Ah 'spects ye don' wanna tell yerself, Missus," she says.

Zia looks a little chagrined. "Old habits die hard," she quotes.

Muri raises a brow. "Mmm... Ah see," she says. "Den Ah propose a trade, hrm?"

Zia thinks a moment, one finger twitching on the sheets of the bed. "Fair..." she agrees, tentatively. "But you ask yours first. If I can't answer it, it'll still be fair."

Muri puts a finger to her lips, thinking, considering, then nods. "Aye," she says. "Now wot t'aks...Wot...wot does Missus Naoi mean t'ye?" She hazards, watchful.

Zia considers that for a long moment before answering, but not evasively so. Merely... thoughtful. "She is a friend," she says simply. "Or was. Now she is... I do not know. I still worry for her, but she attempted to stab the Archmage, tried to call herself a Scourge, and escaped from prison." She blows out a long breath, glancing once more to the window. "You know my question."

Muri frowns, clearly unsatisfied. "All rights," she says, taking a breath. "Ah guess dats fair, doh Ah thin' Ah aksd de wrong question. As for Aes an' me married... Light. We are already in some ways, aye? Ah don' knowd dat Aes could make dat sort o'promise. But if'n 'e thought 'e could, would Ah say aye?" She falls silent, thinking. "Ah don' thin' Ah could say aye, Missus. Ah'm not dat sort o'settlin' gal..." Her voice trails off and she looks worried.

Zia nods, satisfied with her own answer, even though it's doubtful she misses Muri's own dissatisfaction. "All right." She nods, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

Muri smiles. "Time fer ye t'goed t'bed, aye?" she says. "Ye've 'ad a long day, Ah 'spects." She gathers up the rest of the dishes.

Zia nods, smiling faintly and passing Muri her emptied bowl with another soft word of thanks. "That's... not a bad idea." Rising to her feet, she winces as her back pops, and reaches up to massage a crick out of her neck before she starts for the door.

Stops.

"Muri?" So quiet, that, and dead serious.

Muri straightens Taran's covers one last time and smoothes his hair, then turns toward Zia. "Hrm?" she says.

Zia turns back to face Muri, and there's something that looks almost like a plea in her expression. "Do... do you trust me?"

Muri blinks. "Aye," she says, without hesitation. "Yer me fren, an' more." She is still, as if afraid to make any quick moves and shatter the moment.

Zia exhales, relaxing visibly. "Then I need you to listen to me. These things you are asking me. I am not yet... ready? to speak on them. It is not time--too soon, too... raw, still. But when it is... I will explain everything to you. I promise you that. Until then..." She trails off, searching for words. "I just need to think, for awhile. To live, to let the matter rest, to *be*. You understand?" A little of the anxiety from a moment ago returns to her.

Muri sets the tray on the bed once more and steps toward Zia, then wraps her arms around the bardess if she allows it. She hugs her gently. "Aye," she whispers.

"Ai..." Zia lets out a sigh, holding Muri close for a long moment. "Thank you," she whispers. Pulling back, she will rest her forehead against Muri's if she can, just... to stand there, eyes closed, hands resting on her friend's shoulders. She looks very, very tired, an exhaustion that exceeds sitting by Taran's sickbed all day. When she breaks the connection at last, she manages a weak smile. "Light keep you. Good night, Muri."

Muri lifts her head and places a gentle kiss on the woman's forehead. "G'night, Zia," she says softly.

And that smile gains a little strength as Zia turns to head out into the night.

Return to Season 7 (2008)