The Road to Tullybrook

Viviane had assumed that the woman hadn't recognized her. She could see it on her face, at least somewhat, that she knew what she was, but perhaps not who. It was why she was so careful to introduce herself in the majority of social situations. She was, after all, deserving of a certain degree of respect and consideration, not to mention comfort.

She was, as usual, careful with her face, keeping it neutral, presenting a distance between herself, the woman, and her travelling companions. In response to the inn keep, she simply nodded. She had walked in with them, why would they not be her... party? It only just dawned on her that she wasn't quite certain what the word meant, but it sounded right, at least.

At the mention of cultists and an airship, though, she hesitated. An image of Riven, and her sneering, flashed in Viviane's mind, if only for a moment. It must mean they were travelling west. She wondered briefly if she should send word home, as a warning. "I... see. That is quite unfortunate. However, we have been travelling for quite some time, and I have not had a proper bed since Leur. If you have room available, I would much appreciate your accommodation," she said, an air of expectation about her. It was, perhaps, clear that she was not making a request.
 
"Aye, Miss Rally, I already said ye didn'," Abryxia agreed, folding her arms and nodding - completely missing that it was a completely different accusation Rally was refuting. "An' even if ye did, we'd have yer back, aye?"

The old woman was talking and talking. Abryxia didn't pay much mind - it seemed the Good Lady was handling that, now. Ladies were, after all, much better at talking than normal folk. Probably much better at a lot of things. Like riding horses. And putting on those big poofy dresses. And singing.

Not playing the lute, though, if Abryxia could have a bit of pride on it.

"...do ye reckon ye could, then? Fix it? That is, without - y'know - doin' nothin' that'll make 'em all a spot more skittish than they already look?"

--

"Hwe."

The old woman pronounced the word with a lot more breath than it needed, and a bit of disdain aside. Still - lowering her gaze and shaking her head - she sighed, acquiescing with a quick, rustic curtsy.

"Course, Lady Allard. Got two rooms I can spare." She turned a quick, sharp eye up to meet Viviane's face. "The Baron Allard's heir. He have - a reason for sending you through? Without guards or retainers? At least. Proper ones, you know. Not to pry. Just curious, what with, you know, how things have been, and a fine lady as yourself traveling with -"

She huffed.

"Without proper swords at your side."
 
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