ғɪɢʜᴛ ᴏʀ ғʟɪɢʜᴛ || mcd!laurance x m!reader

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

"Logan, please quit your worrying. Phoenix Drop's situation hasn't been good for a while so we're doing our part as merchants to help." You wack your companion lightly on the head as he kept complaining.

The trek towards the dwindling population of a village was longer than your normal travels, hence why the more-than-cranky attitude displayed by your friend. 

Shaking your head, you look up to find the sun's harsh rays slowly reprieving, allowing a more gentle breeze to pass through.

"[Name], we are merchants. We sell things for profit, not to help the struggling villages." Logan grumbles, rubbing the part of his head where you wacked it.

"Correction: YOU are merchants- I mean- You are a merchant. I am a blacksmith." 

Your friend rolls his eyes, "Damn, [Name], suddenly after fixing my grammar mistake all world problems are instantly solved!"

"You're welcome."

He growls in irritation, "[Name], I'm being serious here-!"

You shake your head, patting the top of Logan's moppy hair. "Logan, your werewolf is showing."

Logan shakes in irritation, grasping onto your shoulders with a sense of urgency. "Damn the werewolf curse! Listen to me, we're genuinely going to have more losses than gains here. Let's just turn around-" 

"Uhm, hello?"

You both turn to the voice, and you find solace in its' honeyed tone. It turned out to be a guard, face covered by a helmet. You smartly brush off any dust on your tunic, and reach your hand out.

The guard takes your hand in a firm handshake, "You guys are the merchants, right? Welcome to Phoenix Drop..?"

Logan shifts uncomfortably, dusting off imaginary dirt from his vest as he looks around the somewhat... empty town, "Where's your lord?"

You brush off your friend's cold cut-off in favor of making a good impression, "I'm [Name], and the grump over there is Logan. It's nice to meet you..?"

"Garroth." He lets go of your hand, stationing himself back into a more formal posture.

You nod your head politely, "Lovely name, Garroth. So, where are the-"

"Garroth, who are they?"

Turning your head, you look down to see a rather odd- but beautiful- looking woman. Her raven locks looked like it had only recently been brushed, and her amber eyes swirled in confusion.

What intrigued you most was her markings, one you had never seen before. The inky color seemingly burned into the skin of the strange woman.