The Unbidden Guest, tag: wren

[Urien Madox]

Urien startled at the sound of voices arguing and something slamming, jolting upright so swiftly that he nearly kicked over the chair at his feet. His feet? What were his feet doing on a chair, and not spread out on his bed? Why was he almost choking himself with this rough wool blanket pulled to his chin? Where the hell was he? It wasn't the first time he'd woken in a strange place, but he had a feeling it wasn't the result of a drunken blackout. His mouth was too dry and tasteless and his shirt too clean for that.

Bleary eyed, he threw the cover aside and blinked until his vision cleared. The one-room shack was empty, the hearth gone out by now, pale winter sun streaming through the cracks. Sliding his feet to the floor, a shiver ran through him as his bare soles met worn out wood, but he stood up in spite of the chill. Though the ground was steady, he was not; he still had sea legs, which caused him to stumble slightly and lean on one of the chairs for support.

It took a very long moment to remember the night's events, and where he'd ended up by the time his journey had come to a pause.Whatever noise had stirred him had come from outside, shouting in foreign tongues, maybe the neighbors having a domestic dispute. He was in the Refugee Quarter.

This was Wren's home. But where was Wren?

[Wren Faintree]

Wren had gotten dressed and left earlier in the morning, slipping out quietly without waking Urien. Though he'd been sleeping and snoring so soundly that she doubted going about her business in the morning would have woken him up anyway. She'd wanted to get some things before the market filled up and the bread was still fresh. 

With the important items obtained, she'd headed back for home by the time it was late morning.

Wren heard the shouting before she'd even turned onto her street. Her steps quickened to find the source of the disturbance. It was the family across the way. The father and his daughter, the latter of whom had just stormed out of the house followed by the rest of the family. 

She could understand the dialect well enough to hear that it was a common argument in this quarter. The daughter wanted to marry a citizen, which was bad enough, but this boy was also a soldier. Exactly the type of thing that was frowned upon very harshly. 

Wren skirted the conflict the best she could. The daughter had spoken to her several times before, and Wren didn't want to get pulled into the argument. Not yet at least. Maybe once there was a bit less yelling.

She reached her door without being called upon and slipped inside the house with a sigh. Wren smiled a little when she noticed that Urien was awake finally.

"Morning." She set her basket and a cloth bundle down by the door so she could take off her muddied cape. "Sorry about the neighbors." Wren hung her cape on a hook by the door where it could drip mud all it liked. "Did they wake you?"

[Urien Madox]

Hearing someone coming to the door, Urien had tiptoed (because the floor was freezing, and he was spoiled with slippers on his ship) across to see who it was, narrowly stepping out of the way as it swung inward. It was Wren, even more dazzling in the daylight, her slim, elegant figure haloed by the sun. He tried to comb his auburn hair back with his fingers, but that only served to muss it up further.

He looked anything but casual as he took a seat at the only table in the room, idly picking at the dirt under his nails. When she asked about the neighbors, he merely shook his head. "Oh... No. Nope. I've been up. For a while." Because somehow lying about the fact that he was a lazy lout was worth it. Glancing around, it was rather obvious that he hadn't done much besides get up, as not a single item in the room looked like it had been touched apart from his discarded blanket. "Just, uh... Didn't want to disturb any of your belongings."

He lifted hand to point at the bundle by the door, smiling. "That the stuff?" As in, the fresh change of clothing he so desperately needed. Everything he was wearing was stiff, and had a distinctly sharp, salty odor from evaporated sea water.

[Wren Faintree]

If he had actually been up for a while, he couldn't have done much. "Oh, you're free to help yourself to what you need. The only thing dangerous is my grimoire and you can't use it anyway, so you're fine." She tossed the bundle at him lightly. "They should fit." Though roughly made it was a new set of clothing, including a coat and fresh socks. It was also quite similar to what every other refugee man was wearing.

"Also, breakfast." She set the basket in the center of the table and unpacked the fresh loaves of bread that were still nice and warm.

The neighbors yelling had subsided ever so slightly, but you could still make out most of the argument.

[Urien Madox]

Her grim-what? Mage stuff. Right. Maybe Isyllt had one of those, though he didn't know and had never bothered to ask...if only because his dear little sister would likely tell him to shut up and stop asking stupid questions. He wondered what she might have told the soldiers sniffing around their estate for him, and that thought brought a strange smile to his lips.

He caught the bundle, getting up to find a place to change. A hot bath and a good scrub first would've been nice before putting on something new, but it didn't look like she had the space for a proper tub. Besides, the dirt helped him blend in better. His stomach nearly growled at the sight of the warm loaf, mouth watering at the fresh baked scent, but breakfast could wait a few minutes.

Urien stepped over to the screen that divided the room between her sleeping space and the rest of the house. "Mind if I...?" Not that he really needed to ask. It was improper to undress in front of a lady, but it was worse not to ask permission to enter her private quarters.

[Wren Faintree]

Wren fetched a knife to cut the bread.

"Go ahead." She nodded, giving him permission to use her bedroom to change. "If you want a bath, you'll have to go to the river." Which was freezing at this one of year, of course, so people only got in the water when they absolutely had to.

[Urien Madox]

Him? Go to the river? In this weather?

Haha. Funny.

"You're keeping the change from the groceries and the clothes, by the way," he called from behind the partition as he untied the bundle, swapping one set of clothing for the other. He would have started from top to bottom, if he didn't swear frostbite was about to set into his toes. Socks, then everything else.

Urien came back out, the dirty laundry balled up all together in his arms. Not sure where to put it, he tossed it aside in one of the corners and returned one of the chairs by the fire to the table. He rolled up the sleeves on the slightly oversized shirt and grabbed a loaf. "Thanks," he said, before tearing into it with his teeth. Knives were for civilized people. He was too hungry to be civil.

[Wren Faintree]

"Sure I am." Wren rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see the expression. He was going to try to keep paying her, wasn't he?

She smirked a little when Urien came out, looking the part of the refugee in everything but the walk. "Not bad, but you don't move like a refugee." Still moved like a sea captain, someone with authority. He could work on that later though. She chuckled a little as he tore into one of the loaves, just like some overeager schoolboy.

Wren on the other hand cut the slices she intended to eat from the other loaf and sat down.

[Urien Madox]

"Am I going to need elocution lessons, too?" he quipped back at her dig about the way he walked, but it came out more like "Amma ee elokooshun lesshuns oo?" with all the bread shoved in his mouth. Chewing while speaking was rude. The tutors his father had hired for him as a boy would be appalled.

He swallowed with a loud gulp. The bread was moist and tender, but he could have used a drink. Or maybe taken smaller bites. Eh. Jaw emptied, he asked more clearly, "Didn't happen to spot any 'wanted' posters with my ugly mug on them while you were out, did you?"

[Wren Faintree]

Wren just rolled her eyes again. Men. "No, sorry. You're not notorious enough yet." She shrugged and took a bite of bread, swallowing it before continuing. "Maybe if you actually do something villainous you could get yourself a fancy picture." The bread was good, but just a little dry. She got up from the table and took a pitcher of water and two glasses from the cupboard and set them on the table.

[Urien Madox]

"What, like murder a city guard? Too bad that guy's wearing a mask. He'd have a nice portrait for every room in his crazy, villainous home," Uri replied flippantly, though it really was a good thing no one was looking for him just yet. His ego didn't necessarily appreciate being treated as a small fry, but his sense of self-preservation was almost cheering the nutjob on, as long as it took some heat off his back. Almost.

[Wren Faintree]

Wren shot Urien a disapproving look. It wasn't that she was against joking, it was the particular subject of that joke. That masked lunatic wasn't really something she could take lightly. Wren took another bite of bread and chewed it thoughtfully. She'd gotten a good look at him, and the mask didn't cover his entire face. She could probably draw what she remembered.

"They probably do have posters drawn up of him, even with the mask. The government likes to waste their time like that."

[Urien Madox]

He recognized that sharp look, putting down the cup with a gulp.

...too soon?

Did she know the guy who'd been murdered? Or had she-- Wait, she did say he'd been in the quarter recently, and that she thought the masked creep might have been a mage. But she hadn't said how she came to that conclusion. Gods. He was such an idiot some (well, half) of the time.

"Wren," he said, absolutely serious now, "did that guy attack you?"

[Wren Faintree]

Wren took a quick bite of bread to give herself a moment to think. Knowing Urien, he wouldn't take this very well. "Yes." She sat down again. "But nothing happened. Not really." Yes, he'd attacked her. He hadn't hurt her though, just scared her. The only actual hurt she'd gotten was of her own doing.

"Anyway, you should be fine wandering around the quarter if you walk with a little less authority." Honestly, she wanted to talk about something else.

[Urien Madox]

Of course he wouldn't take it well. Sure, she was a grown woman, and she could take care of herself -- she'd done so for long enough before they'd ever met -- but he'd been braying like an insensitive jackass while she had almost suffered at the hands of a mad man. "I'm...sorry," he said softly, wanting to at least get the apology in before moving on. She was obviously uncomfortable talking about it.

That slowed down (not stopped, mind you) his ravenous appetite. He took another sip of water. "Right. I can do that. Shoulders slumped, head down, surly expression?" Urien mimed each of those traits in turn.