It’s the predawn light that wakes them.
It filters through the guest bedroom’s curtains like smoke through a spectrum gate, picking up hints of color, mostly blue, on the way. The hue coats the room in watery tones, drowning them in wakefulness and the preclusion of the coming boat ride. The white furniture takes on the illusion of seafoam around them and, half-asleep, Jarl wonders if that makes the daemon in his arms the mermaid of lore.
And then he realizes he has a DAEMON in his arms.
And that’s when he fully wakes.
~
The colors of Manus’ borrowed room are much less mystical; which is ironic since he’s the magician.
Instead of blues, this bedroom was done up in off-whites, making everything look like bone in the early light. Manus, himself, is no exception; reminding the heroic priest rather snidely that the mage only just recovered.
Also reminding him is the man, himself, who’s usually up before him and his morning cuppa.
Deciding that’s a good start to the day, Jarl leaves the still resting witch half of Witch Doctor to his bed rest—and Áesta, who’s still in his sleeping gown (provided, perhaps while half-asleep, by the snoozing magician) and has decided to snuggle up to the Spaniard until he’s fully awake.
~
“You’ll pass by here, won’t ya?”
Maria’s voice is soft and gentle as it sounds from the entryway, signalling her return to Mariti’s home, but it’s also genuine and strong. Her request leaves no room for arguments, although it sounds like a suggestion, and reminds Jarl of a parent saying goodbye to a child going off to college (not that he really knows that sound; his own parents were already dead by the time he chose to go to priest school, as Manus jokingly called it). So, he pauses in his quest to fill back up their (and Sunder Inn’s) bags with fresh food and hot bean water.
“On yar way back, I mean.”
The Head Nun of Bailenac’ringy sets down her own bag once she fully enters the kitchen and joins Jarl in it. She then pulls out a flat parcel from the dark brown item’s depths and offers it to the preparing priest.
“I’d like to meet him properly, if I may; I only heard in passin’ that he liked my mother’s apple bread.”
“Your mother’s…?” Jarl blinks in mild surprise as he accepts the gift—something he’s already getting used to: gifts. Now that he understands what they really mean—an excuse for him to come back with Jasey—accepting them is actually not that hard anymore. Still humbling and surprising and just a bit frightening, yes: but not hard. He thinks it has something to do with the shock of meeting kindness in a harrowing situation.
It’s jarring.
“Yes,” Maria nods, smiling kindly. “I just spoke with her at the church. She runs the bakery down the street: Mora’s Take Away. It’s in the heart of town. He ordered her apple bread as soon as he saw she had it and then complimented her by saying it was almost as good as his own mother’s.”
“Huh…”
Jarl carefully places the parcel into his own bag—not the ones from Sunder Inn as the bread should stay dry and the hot stew or coffee might ruin that—as he digests this. Not only was Jasey able to get warm housing and a boat ride out of this kidnapper, but he got food and drinks and SWEETS from him, too.
Seriously: what is he DEALING with here???
“Yes…” he eventually nods back, latching onto the unspoken question Maria was posing. “Our mother… Baking was a loved hobby of hers. She made everything from cake to pie to, yes, bread—from scratch, too. Our school lunches always had her baking in them—even if it wasn’t the healthiest thing.
“A lot of kids were jealous of her willingness to give us so many sweets.”
Maria giggles at the mental image that congers up. “My, my! JARL, of all people, gorgin’ on sweets???”
The man flushes, “N-no, I—!!!”
She almost falls over laughing.
~
“O, I knew there was a reason I liked you~”
Manus’ voice booms as he literally parades himself out of the off-white guest bedroom. His gold earrings glitter in the now morning sun and match his eyes which are much more alive than they had been yesterday. There’s blush on his cheeks (probably from a makeup kit he has stored in some magical way), rose on his lips, and both rich pinks match his gold buttoned blouse and boots. White pants flare dramatically over his feet, held up by a white belt with a gold buckle, and Áesta follows after his old friend with a matching white jacket.
The daemon, himself, is in a simpler (and much more practical) outfit of black slacks, boots, and a sweater.
(Jarl would question the decision for the sweater to be
strangely short and three-quarter sleeved but, well: DAEMON. Also, Jarl
really likes when the snow catches on Áesta’s dark clothes and looks like stars
in space.)
The priest thinks he—with his white t-shirt, dark slacks, matching boots and gloves, and bright red jacket—marks a pretty happy medium between the two’s polarizing styles. And that thought is actually kind of funny.
Since they’ve been his medium for a lot of things in this adventure: mostly magic and strangers.
“But of course!” Maria enthuses, tanned face now beaming out a matching grin. “Teasin’ Jarl is a blast!”
Said priest huffs, “Is not!”
“Is so~” Áesta joins, impish grin wrapping around his purred words. The three of them laugh as Jarl scowls; but, inwardly, he’s happy to see that Áesta has long since forgiven his freak outs from yesterday and that Manus is back to 100% even if knowing he really is over 100 is still something he needs to get used to.
For all their teasing, the people in this room are siding with him and helping him against all odds.
He thinks he can handle a bit of barbs if it means allies when he really needs them.
~
“Of course we’ll stop by.
“With Jasey in tow.
“Thank you, Maria.
“Very much.”
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