A Princess, a Knight, and an Assassin Walk Into a Tavern...

Beau

She was awake long before she opened her eyes, but the ability it took to pull the feat required energy she didn't have. The boat rocked, the wood creaking, she swallowed thickly and shuddered, her stomach rocking with the waves. The tinkling of silverware roused her out of her nauseous lucidity. She gulped thickly again and then groaned rather weakly at the awakening of PAIN behind her eyes and down the base of her head, her teeth ached and she recalled being punched in the face a couple of times, she inhaled as deep a breath she could before hot sore pain blossomed the stretching muscles of her chest, another shudder and she was opening an eye to a slit.

Through blond lashes she procured a tan hand elegantly setting a delicate teacup on a stool set beside her. "She awakes." He curled his lips into a smile. "How do you fair, my dear Lady?"

She scoffed meekly. "Do not mock, I pray you." Her voice rather small, her lips rather dry. She shifted and her leg fell to the floor with a heavy thud. The small laugh Gov' failed to smother sounded tickled. He was tickled. The man was tickled by this situation. She wrenched open her eyes and gave a heavy glare. He pouted to mock empathy, opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could her body gave a lightning quick reminder of the horrible state she was in and her head throbbed. "Don't. Don't speak." Once her head throbbed, her nose started throbbing, the dull pain renewing with each heartbeat, she breathed through her mouth carefully.

His chuckle was warm, and soft, a part of her was irritated out of her wits, but the majority was hurt and tired, and she was still rather cozy. He patted her head and pointed at the tea-cup.

It was so far away.

But she had her pride. With a suffering heave of her body she flipped herself upright, uneasily. She was on the daybed, she recalled the fact that she hadn't slept in a proper bed in a good three days. Her body decided that was a good reason to start feeling even more sore and fatigued, as if it had forgotten and Beau helpfully supplied the reminder. Another weak sigh as she blinked repeatedly to gather her bearings.

Gov'ner did the liberty of coming over and settling beside her and pressing the warm ceramic into her palms, allowing her to grip it firmly. He paled a bit at the thought that maybe she would tumble, and it was a rather irreplaceable set he was using. But she maneuvered herself with a balanced hand, and he raised an eyebrow at how familiar she seemed with the movements. She was a Knight Commander, of course she knew how to handle herself under a massive hangover. She wouldn't have survived end of battle celebrations and be ready for the next day in command on the field if she couldn't handle her liquor. Even if it was just on the outside that she could.

Carefully he observed the exhausted human being beside him, nudging up against her snugly, in support of course. It was a rather chilly morning anyhow. The act wasn't lost on Beau, but the tea wasn't either.

She inhaled the steam and she already felt relieved. A cup of well-brewed tea had never failed her. Her shoulders had been draped with a thick, slightly scratchy blanket through the night, then suddenly it gave a vague veil of nostalgia over her. She was reminded of when she was training in the south barracks, near a stormy coast. If it wasn't luke-warm and pouring, it was luke-warm and sprinkling. Everything was a dull blue-gray and black-brown and if it wasn't made out of wool it was made out of stone. Wet grit and gravel ended up in her boots and chain-mail whenever she walked around during patrol. Often rubbing her ankles and waist raw. It was miserable, she was always put on watch because she was tall enough to see through the splashing chaos well enough, which aided in climbing up the ranks, but STILL. She sipped the lemon-y mint tea that numbed down her throat gently, she assumed he had put a bit of pain reducing herbs and covered it up with the mint. Not unlike someone she once knew during that time. She remembered how the barrack's assigned healer would pull her inside after shift and help her into dry clothes, she'd drape a similar blanket, and wrap stiff fingers around a hot clay mug over flowing with bitter-herbed tea and honey, all weakly disguised under the flavor of wild mint. The healer was one secretly sent in by her mother, she was one of few that knew, too.