Journey To Hellspost (TXT X READER)

24

HueningKai found himself where he always ended up. In a tavern. The rooms were carved into the wall of stone that encased the entire kingdom. He found himself on the stage of the stone tavern with joyous dwarves laughing and cheering and watching his song with glee. They were the most lively crowd he had ever performed for. This was what HueningKai loved about travelling the world. He got to see the smiles and hear the joyous voices of others and know he was making a difference. He was making others happy. It allowed him to rest easily. He may not be slaying bands of villainous orcs or fighting off the evils in the world, but he allowed people to have a moment of joy and happiness and that's all he needed to know.

  He'd learned to grow comfortable with the sour smell of ale that surrounded him and he learned to love the smell of sweat because it was always around him when he performed. He learned to love the warmth he felt when he was on stage and the light sweat of nervousness that graced his forehead as he sang. He wasn't singing a song that he was familiar with, but instead, he sang a dwarvish folk song that those in the tavern had taught him. It was a Merry tune that was easily followed and everyone in the tavern sang along at the top of their lungs. If HueningKai made a mistake, surely they wouldn't hear it over their joyous laughter. He could see the pure happiness on a drunk dwarf's face as he taught the bard another folk song in a slurred tongue.

  When HueningKai grew tired and fatigued of the never ending energy in the tavern, he found himself retiring to the halls of the mountain, a beautifully lit work of art. He wandered up and down the halls, seeing how the stone had been chipped away to make the walls so even, yet jagged at the same time.

  "HueningKai," he heard from behind him. The owner of the voice certainly wasn't pleased with him.

  The rogue stood behind him with her eyes narrowed on his, showing no amusement. HueningKai immediately tried to think of every possible wrongdoing he could have done during their adventure but none came to mind. He was certainly sure that after their confrontation, he would remember his wrongdoings as clear as day.

The rogue had a change in wardrobe, no doubt brought about by the seamstress dwarrowdam she had met previously. She wore a pair of trousers as well as boots that came just above her knee. The soles were sloppy and they seemed to be made by someone who is not familiar with their craft. She wore a simple tunic with a sort of sleeve that did not cover her arm, but covered only her shoulder. The structured leather that made her tunic was pointed at the shoulder and flared at the hip, but it was also fitted. It laced up in the front rather than in the back, for ease of changing, HueningKai assumed. Her arms were bare. It was a strange sight to see. Usually the rogue had her cloak with her, but perhaps she had left it behind in their room. Either way, HueningKai felt a strange urge to cover her arms with his cloak. He reasoned that it was to keep her warm.

  "You have visited the healer, right? How do your injuries fare?" He asked her as she drew nearer, with no intent of stopping.

  "You would know," she responded simply with a venom in her voice before she drew her hand back. Before HueningKai could inquire about what she meant, her hand struck his face with no restraint. He didn't look back to her, instead opting to look at the ground. "You used a spell on me," she growled through gritting teeth, unafraid of anyone witnessing the scene.

  He bit his tongue, knowing that if he spoke, he could reveal how many spells he had actually used on her without her knowing. He liked to think that it was few. Very few. In truth, he couldn't not help but use them. His heart grew heavy whenever he saw the fatigue grow on her face, or whenever another inconvenience came her way. When he saw her struggling with her shoes before they entered the mountain, he could not help but cast a spell in hopes that she would not feel any pain as she struggled with the thin heels. When they had first set out on their adventure and the rogue had refused to be asleep in their company, he felt horrible seeing her force her eyes open so he cast a spell on her to ease her fatigue and make it easier on her whenever she lay awake. It was something he had attempted to talk himself out of, but no matter what reasons he had come up with, there was something in the back of his mind that always made him cast the spells.