Devil's tale

Devil's tale chapter 8

Something heavy stirred on top of Avarice. Drowsily, he opened his eyes. Lying over him, was Emily. Her brown hair was a total mess and she had shadows under her eyes. Avarice had fallen asleep lying at a ninety-degree angle to the length of the bed, and Emily, who'd been leaning on his shoulder, had fallen over him to lie with her head just centimetres away from the pillows where it was supposed to be resting. She'd also fallen onto the prayerbook, wrinkling several of its pages.

"Mmmph... is it morning yet?" Avarice asked, still half-asleep.

"Think so. What time do you think it is?" Emily asked back.

Avarice reached into his coat and produced a pocket watch.

"Ten in the morning." He said.

Emily shot up off Avarice, panic in her eyes. "My morning prayers!" She exclaimed. She quickly went to the center of the room and got on her knees, folding her hands and beginning to pray in angelic.

Avarice rubbed his eyes and felt at the sore spot on his midsection where Emily had been lying. He took a look at the wrinkled prayerbook. Even after a whole night's worth of research, he'd still found nothing on how to heal Jazz's arm. He glanced at Emily. The word panic wasn't usually one he associated with prayer, but it was really the only way to describe the way the girl was acting. Avarice supposed he understood well enough what she felt. Prayer wasn't just to ask for favours from gods, it was also a spiritual practice of self-improvement, akin to meditation. He was also pretty sure that the importance of prayer had been excessively repeated to Emily over and over again during her education, if she was the kind of cleric to freak out this much over missing a morning ritual. He also realised, a little too late, that prayer was supposed to be private. His tail curled around his leg as he hastily turned around, saying. "Sorry!"

Emily turned her head, her concentration broken, she looked flustered and seemed to realise the same thing Avarice had.

What followed was an awkward few minutes of Emily praying while Avarice just sat there with his back turned, feeling guilty. He took the prayerbook and did his best to flatten the pages so that Emily wouldn't feel to guilty for damaging such a 'sacred item', as he was sure it was to her.

"I guess we're both a couple of nervous messes, huh?" He said in angelic, to no one in particular. He wasn't sure if Emily had heard him or not, as she was still busy with prayer.

Eventually, Emily stood up. She and Avarice went downstairs to get some breakfast, but the inn had already switched to its lunch-menu.

Robert and Jazz had been waiting for the minstrel and cleric. Jazz looked like he was hung over and even grumpier than usual, while Robert's eyes were bright and lively.

"How'd it go?" He asked the two mages.

"It went well." Emily said.

"It did? I mean, we didn't find anything useful." Avarice pointed out.

"Oh, right! I suppose that's true." The cleric said, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Robert nodded. "Well we have time. I have not called the military. How about both of you go freshen up before you do anything else, and I'll hold onto the book for now."

"You go first." Avarice said, gesturing towards the door to the hot spring.

"No, no. Please, you go first." Emily said.

"No, I insist."

"Please, I'd hate to be a burden."

"So would I."