Owe You My Sins [GxG]

Chapter 10

When Maeven woke the next morning, Illythia wasn't there.

A light flush covered her cheeks as she remembered the night before, but she shoved it away and shouldered her clothes, slipping her boots back on. When she entered the hall, she paused to see if she could hear anything from the neighbouring rooms, but they were still and silent. Maeven continued and made her way back to the common room, where the hearty laughter of her crew met her ears and drew a smile onto her features. They were seated at a table tucked away in the corner; a few chairs dragged over to make room. The bar keep was the same old grouse who received them, and as she watched, she was sure the cup he was wiping down with a washcloth was just an excuse to eavesdrop.

Illythia's keen eyes spotted her first, but it was Saibh who said, "Maeven! Get your lazy ass over here!"

Maeven laughed, "you shouldn't talk to your princess like that. Any stranger would take you for a bandit."

"Like you use prettier words than us!" Conan scoffed, crossing his arms indignantly. "I've heard far worse come out of that mouth of yours, I can tell you that."

"Oh?" Illythia leant over the table, setting her cheeks in her palms. "Like what, pray tell?"

Conan's eyebrows shot up and he bellowed a laugh, "aye, she gets it!"

Maeven rolled her eyes, slapping him on the back of his head as she plopped down on the empty seat beside Una. She grabbed the mug in front of her and gulped it down, sighing when the warmth hit her belly. There was a platter of sorts on the table filled with dried meat, the odd berry or preserved fruit, and a few slices of bread. She was eager to fill her belly and started picking at the meal, sleep having only strengthened her body's demand for food. When she glanced up again, Illythia was peering over at her, somehow focused on Maeven despite the loud, and rather disruptive, chatter around them.

Maeven gulped, peering back down at her hands.

"Hey, Briar was it?" Brighton called, leaning back in her chair. "That festival is tonight still, right?"

"Aye, that's right," the owner answered back, followed briefly by the clanking of cups. "Midday 'till dusk, it'll be. Though as a local, I can tell ya I wouldn't bother showing up until sunset. That's when it gets interesting."

"We'll have time, right?" Conan cut in; this time directed at Maeven.

"Yeah, of course. We just have to get the supplies loaded first, then we can have fun all we like."

They shared nods at that, and the conversation continued onto who was better at what, how long it'd take Saibh and Una to make it official, and other odds and ends along those lines. Maeven couldn't help but notice that Illythia didn't so much as spare the food a glance, seemingly content with watching the lively conversation and occasionally giving a light smile or chuckle when prompted. She tried to catch the vampire's eye, but patience was never part of her skill set.

She gave up and asked, "Illythia, aren't you hungry?"

The pale woman twisted her head towards her, her mouth opening and closing for a few moments. When she finally spoke, her eyes still didn't quite meet Maeven's, "no, I'm alright my Lady. I'm not hungry."

Maeven fiddled with her fingers, somehow not quite buying it, but she nodded regardless.

"Hey, Illythia, did you know Brighton's surname is the same as Maeven's horse!" Conan burst out laughing, even as the petite woman turned bright pink and punched him hard on the shoulder.

"Fen is your last name?" Illythia laughed, soft enough that Brighton didn't take any real offence, and the colour faded slowly until it only remained on the tips of her ears.