The Abbey

[speakeroftruths]

Andy flinches slightly, involuntarily pulling their hand back slightly as she grasps their wrist. Toustain's fingers would brush against a hidden under-layer, a second tight-fitting tunic underneath their vestments, sealing off their arm just above the wrist. All the same, they try to relax, to not overreact to the innocent touch.

"I am glad," They say, forcing a small smile. "Shall we agree to not wait until we are gruesomely injured once more to talk if we find fault in each other's actions?"

[rosallora]

[Toustain]

"I think that's a good idea," she says, nodding. And for all the awkwardness of the words, she means it. She realizes that the piece of cloth isn't actually skin - oh. Did that make it less genuine? She hopes not. The vestal lets go, her hands resting on the table. The fire crackles behind them, the oats lightly mulling over the ashes.

"...I understand if we want to take some time before trying to fix the problem at hand. But considering what happened last night, I want to be. Expedend. Expediend." She purses her lips, having lost the word. "It'd be best taken care of quickly."

[speakeroftruths]

"That would seem to be for the best, yes," They agree, nodding. They take a quick peek and listen around the room, just to make certain that no one else is about and listening in. Leaning in, they look once more to Toustain and speak low and quiet.

"Have you given thought to where?"

[rosallora]

[Toustain]

"Where..." she trails off. She hadn't. "It has to be... a home, right? Or somewhere we can make a home?" She thinks of the old windmill, where Roard had been for a while. Perhaps there was a hovel? She couldn't just go asking someone in town to borrow their house for the exorcism of a terrible, cursed object. "Anywhere in town is... out of the question. Maybe a farmer would be willing to give two holy folk their barn for the night, but... I'm not sure. I don't think either of our rooms would do the trick, either. As Home as they are, they're not... homey." She feels a bit guilty, admitting that. "To be honest I'm not quite sure what feels traditionally homey. I grew up in an abbey and I'd assume the same with you."

[speakeroftruths]

Andy rubs their freshly-shaven head slightly, looking a bit abashed as they nod an affirmative. 

"Eh, yes. It is good you thought of that, when I made the suggestion, I did not think of that fact. Perhaps there are some we could ask in town? Any that you know that might have a better idea of what constitutes a home?"

They lower their hand to knot their fingers, then think better of it at the renewed ache in the healing digits. Instead, they reach to their belt and pull out the map that they have been working on of the Hamlet and surrounding landmarks.

"My only other thought besides surveying the locals would be to attempt to recreate something approaching a home from what fond memories we hold growing up. But, as you pointed out, those might not approximate a home enough to recreate the needed conditions."

[rosallora]

[Toustain]

"What does make a home. Well I certainly saw many homes as I traveled here, but I don't know about making the feeling again. After all, home came from the people that lived there. I think it was more something within them that filled the space, not really something in the space that filled them." She feels like she should be in her element. "Vesta is the goddess of the home. The hearth, family, protection. And I know that wherever I go, so she too goes, so the Home in question must have a flame burning to allow the Goddess presence." She feels firm in that.

"As far as all the other things..." she trails off, tapping a finger against the wooden table. Who would know about homes? Certainly not Grace, she had grown up on the battlefield and had never known comfort. But. Maybe Roard.

"Maybe Ser Roard." She bobs her head, bringing a hand to her mouth in contemplation. "He talks to me sometimes about growing up on a farm and how much he enjoyed it. He had a mother and father and lived a normal life until, well. I bet he would know. And he's a good man, and he trusts me. I don't think he'd ask overmany questions." She squirms in her seat a bit at that, but pats her hands on the wood. "Yes. He just may be the man to ask."

[speakeroftruths]

"Ser Roard? The name sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it. Have you mentioned him before?"

Andy considers whether they will need the map after all, deciding to leave it on the table for the time being.

[rosallora]

[Toustain]

"He's a sweetheart," she says, smiling genuinely. "Very kind. A bit gruff in the way that he speaks but he truly is a kind soul." Considering what's happened recently, she wisely leaves out the part where he was a leper. Formerly, a leper. "Last time I made sweetrolls with jam he bought out my entire stock! He's.... hm." She points a finger towards the weald, close to the Estate proper. "He camps out. A lonely soul. But the solitude may actually prove to be in our favor!"

[speakeroftruths]

"Huh."

Well, that was simpler that first assessment. Andy pulls a small charcoal pen from a pouch on their belt, pull back the paper wrapping, and notate a small X where Toast indicates.

"As it happens, I don't have any plans this day beyond our task. So, might this Ser Roard be about town? Or will our best bet of finding him be to go to his camp?"

[rosallora]

[Toustain]

"It's better to go to him, I think. I haven't seen him since..."

She feels like she should know. Maybe it was a dream - him being present at the abbey when she was so wounded. It felt like a cointoss on whether he was there or not. He had looked down on her, hadn't he? Making sure she was alright? Or was that just something her mind had made up, wishing that there was someone who would?

"It's been a while." She gets up, making sure to slide her stool under the table. "I'll get my armor and my cloak, and you make whatever preparations you need. He isn't a violent man by nature, and I'm sure he'd never hurt me, but there still are monsters out there in the wilds and I don't intend to be surprised by them."

[speakeroftruths]

"Of course, take what time you need," they say, mimicking the Vestal's motions. "I've little enough preparation needed, since the attack I've been..."

Paranoid.

"Prepared for much conflict, even within these walls. Thank you for breakfast, I will take care of the dishes while you get your armaments, and I will meet you out back?"

Andy slips the belt back into their pouch, then gathers up the plates and brings them over to the counter where the wash-basin and drying rack sit.

[rosallora]

[Toustain]

She feels a pang of guilt, looking at Andy's hands. "If.. you're sure." She hurries upstairs, already dreading the trek. Should she bring the bridle?

As she enters her room, she looks at it there, lying on the bedspread. Of course the woman had made her bed (co excuses!) and it was there on her pillow, some terrible facade of someone resting peacefully. She did feel a need to tuck it in, to comfort it. Maybe it'd be better simply to take it with her.

After suiting up, she clips the thing to her cuirass, and drapes her cloak over herself. Head wrappings on, hood up, cozy.

Now, the real work began.

[twostepsback]

Many tears have been shed since the bandit's invasion, and it doesn't sound like it's going to be stopping any time soon if the sobs that Charissa can hear drifting out of the Abbey kitchens are any indication. Still garbed in her prowler's wear, Charis catches the tail end of Toast's teary rant. From what Charissa can gather, someone close to the Sister has died, and it doesn't sound like their death was dignified.  Charissa sits down on a bench close to Andy and Toast, and waits to be noticed.

[speakeroftruths]

Andy passes the threshold shortly behind Toustain, head rising in understanding as the Sister departs from scripture. The stone surrounding them is... familiar. Was the journey back truly so short, or did they just trod so many leagues without speaking?



Still feeling sick to their stomach, they step past Toustain and walk over to the washbasin, splashing their face in an attempt to revive their awareness. And sure enough, a Whisper in their ear tells them that they are not alone. They turn slowly, face gaunt and stretched, and incline their head to the other present.

"Sister."

[twostepsback]

"Hello, Andy. I gather that someone close to Sister Toustain has perished?" Charis intones solemnly.