Awake

Chapter Five: So Long, Farewell

Chapter 5: So Long, Farewell

Tressa woke to the rhythmic sound of Cicero knocking on her door, a musical pattern playing his signature.

Apparently he was on a repeated round of it though, possibly thrice over, as she heard his voice sing-song with a concerned air and her name instead of her title, something he usually reserved for when the matter calls for utmost sincerity or worry.
“Tressaaa~,” he called, “Are you alive-aaa~?”
Tressa snapped up.

She felt the grogginess of having slept too hard dissipating from her mind… and realized she had fallen asleep in her mask.
She adjusted it, unsticking it from skin of her face, and she inhaled a deep breath, releasing a long yawn.

She didn't realize just how tired she had been.
And here she was going to set out on an unknown journey this morning, after only arriving home just yesterday. She really needed to balance her quest log better…

Cicero's knock lost its musical charm now.
A hard three bangs rattled upon the door instead, with no sing-song voice accompanying them.
Whether it was concern, or simply loss of patience, she wasn’t willing to test just yet today.

Tressa swung her legs from her bed, firmly planting her feet upon the floor.

“I'm up! I'm up!” she called.

“Oh, good!” the jester's voice rang through the door.
The dissipating agitation in his tone told Tressa she made the right choice in not trying his patience…yet.
Old goat probably didn’t get the rest she had ordered him.

His chipper chatter however, whether pseudo or no, quickly bubbled back into its home in his jester clad vocal chords.

“Cicero was beginning to worry just a smidgen. He didn't want to lockpick your door if you were only sleeping as heavy as a horker~,” he chirped.

Tressa shook her head and stood to stretch, answering back as she did.

“Cicero, my door is not only locked, but chain latched,” she said, “Good luck unlatching it from your side. And I wouldn’t risk breaking your feeble old leg kicking--"

“Are you covered?” the jester asked, “Clothed? You have your mask on?”

Tressa tilted her head at the question of her modesty.

“Yes?” she responded, before she realized the jester might be impulsive enough to kick her door in to prove the point of his ableness.

She was just about to order him not to dare, but just before she could snip off, she saw the very tip of something shiny, flat, and pointed suddenly slip through between the tight closure of the door frame and door.

It was his dagger blade, and the tip perfectly found itself in a link of the door chain.

He gave a quick slip down, breaking the chain entirely.
The handle of the door then turned, as he apparently had that lock picked already…
The door swung open.

Tressa tossed her hands up.
“What?!” she said, amazed, “No! What?! Nocturnal’s step child! Slick you are! How in Oblivion did you guess where the chain was??”

She then; however, put her hands on her hips in a stern manner.
“You are getting me a new door latch,” she demanded, “And, like, 7 to 10 more, and some bolts, and a door bar, after we get back from this trip.”