forum after all this time - 3/3 - closed

Started December 06, 2022 by @larcenistarsonist group

tune

"Why are you here, Ren? It's been four years. And why is there a child here?" Like almost every decision Renier made, the choice to go to Clarke was quick and impulsive. At least consciously, they had no clue what drove them to do it. That might've been the second time they regretted making decisions so quickly.

Renier avoided the first question. "I didn't "kidnap" him. We-" they said, referring to the others who'd been following, "-came to bring him, uh, away from his parent's control. It's a lot." They glance down at the heir, then back up at Clarke. "He knows something others don't, that's all I really know." Renier tapped their foot anxiously and rhythmically. A small part of them hoped Clarke would send them back out, so they wouldn't have to say or explain anything else to him. But even if that's what they really wanted, and even if whatever they were running from was gone by then, they were aware that it was a selfish thing to hope for. They were also aware of their deliberate vagueness in what they were telling Clarke. It was a guilty feeling, to bust into his home and tell him nothing, after not speaking to each other in- four years? Had it been that long? Time was a strange thing. The bard couldn't decide if it had felt like ten years or ten months since they'd last seen the man. Realizing that only bothered them more.

"It was something about a locket, wasn't it?" Renier asked Edvin, shaking themself from this spiral.

Something about this warrior made him feel uneasy. The warrior's gaze sent shivers down his spine. In some form, it reminded him of His Majesty's; he doesn't like it. Hearing the door slam, he jumped then ran to hide behind Reiner. The run was more of a swift limping than anything else. He knows that for now everything is okay, but he just couldn't shake off the feeling that he never will be safe.

Edvin frowned while standing behind the bard. He isn't just a child. He's Edvin, the heir to Keosalon, and he just turned nine two moons ago; not to mention he, unlike his siblings who passed to the next world, is still standing on this earth and he will continue to do so until he's old and gray. It's not much, but to him, it means a lot.

The locket. His attention sparked instantly. He stepped out a little, looking up at Renier then back at Clarke. His arms gently squeezing the doll. Shadows stood behind against the wall before manifesting into two men. One with a big black fur coat, short dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a nose hooked down at the end like Edvin's. The other shared a lot of the same features like Edvin, but was wearing bright blue robes.

Hunor, the one with the fur coat, gave the little prince a seldom nod. Then Suho, the other with the blue robes, smiled and whispered, Go on. Tell the warrior with purpose. By the time Edvin had mustered up the courage, the shadows poofed into nothing within a blink of an eye.

The little prince sighed. He hugged the doll while staring at Clarke. "Keosalon needs the locket…." Edvin managed to say in a low soft voice. "It is in danger but no one is doing anything…." A voice whispered in his hear, Manners. He added on, "Please help…Please…There is corrupt…evil…powers that put in danger…Please…"

This situation feels straight from one of Clarke's drunken fever dreams. A friend he thought he got rid of four years ago and a tiny little boy. When he says tiny, he doesn't exaggerate in the slightest. Clarke has never been one for hyperbole. The child is… small. Small, truly, that's the only adjective he can quite place on the boy's head. Clarke is fully aware that he's taller and broader than the average person, instantly dwarfing anybody marginally below average–but this child. Itty bitty. Like a blueberry.

And this little blueberry apparently holds some grand knowledge that was worth Ren stealing him from his heavily guarded castle at least three kingdoms over… And this knowledge is a locket. A little door on a chain. Clarke has to take another long drag from his mug.

"Corrupt evil powers that put people in danger– for fuck's sake." Clarke is going to need so much more ale. He rubs his hands along his face and through his loose hair. Usually he would braid it back, but he wasn't quite expecting company to come barreling through his door. He inhales as sharply as his blade, exhales as harshly as a boar he once decapitated with said blade. He swears he sees something move on the wall behind him. Must be the damned ale, he grumbles internally.

"I hung up my sword for a reason, Renier," Clarke starts, his back to both the adult and the child. His teeth grit together; his knuckles go white around his mug. He hung it up because the Beholder is dead. He hung it up because he wants to rest. He hung it up because he's sick of always putting others in danger along his frivolous and surprisingly blood-heavy quests. "I hung it up, damnit, but–" He sighs, a heavy sound. His boots screech against the wooden flooring as he turns. "How far away is this damned locket and how long will it take to get to it?" The child is clearly in no shape to take care of himself, and what the hell is Renier going to do when faced with a garish Maule? Tap a jig out? Get it to shuffle along? God, Renier is going to get both the child and themselves killed.

Yet another thing Renier didn't know. How long had they been here? Three minutes? Clarke's questions were fair and called for, unlike their entrance back into his life. Though, did he agree to find whatever talisman Edvin was talking about?
It didn't take them long to decide that if they pulled Clarke into this, they were going to make an effort to get him out. Whether or not the warrior would allow Renier to be of use didn't matter. Either they'd persuade him or they'd find a way to follow anyway. If they were persistent they, ideally, wouldn't have to resort to the latter.
In any case, if the warrior had somehow been persuaded to let this shadow of a past life hit a drum alongside him, Renier had no plan nor desire to recreate past adventures. Most likely, neither did Clarkeston.
Wherever this locket was, all there was to do was hope that it was close. Renier looked down at Edvin. Did he know where the locket was or just that it existed? How did he know all this anyway? It wouldn't be too surprising if the heir was less than human. Then again, he was so frail, so at the same time, it was a bit surprising that the magic that was just streaming through his body didn't cause the child to collapse.

(sorry for the short reply! it will be longer next time)

Whatever is going on between Clarke and Renier, it is completely passing over Edvin's precious little head. Between feeling exhausted and thinking about the unimaginable happening, there was too much on his mind anyways. Even now, Edvin cannot handle it. The only thing holding him together is the doll; not to forget the fact that he is also far away from His Majesty and Mother. Far away that he will be safe standing still.

The whole time there was back and forth between the adults, he kept his head down. It is not prince-like of him to do, but what else could he do? He heard a word that he only ever heard while eavesdropping on soldiers in the hallways or His Majesty. Even Hunor had said it once before being scolded by Suho; this also made Edvin very tensed. What does "fuck" mean anyways? Why do all these men say it? Does he get to say it when he is their age? Hopefully not, does not sound good to him, especially the way Clarke just said it.

"Hm?" The little prince stared up at Renier with wide eyes full of a lot of things. Confusion shining in them among the rest. What? What does he have to say now? At this point, he just wants to sleep. The sun may have already set mere moments ago, but he has gone through so much today.

A shadow traveled down the wall. It was a plain shadow but Edvin could see it was Hunor. Then another appeared across from Reiner. Suho. Show the warrior the map, child. Hunor's voice was low and rumbled like thunder but it hummed nicely in his ears. It was definitely different from Suho's. Go on, little one.

There was a folded up paper in the bottom of his side bag. It was hidden underneath the other clothes he had packed. He had folded it up so much that it was difficult to unfold with one hand. Hunor had walked over to him, but the little prince had waved the shadow off. "No. I can do it," He mumbled. It disappeared before he managed to unfold it.

Edvin, using his left hand, held the map up for Clarke to see. It showed of the land where the locket was. "Across the continent," He responded then pointed to the locket's location. "It takes about…." He bit on his bottom lip. Suho whispered, About four weeks if you make haste. Edvin continued, "Uhh- Four weeks if we make haste."

The whole time Edvin held the doll by its left hand. Holding the map up as high as possible with just the one hand, he placed the doll in his bag so he had the support of both his hands. They were getting tired. Thinking about that made him even more tired. At least his motivation is enough to keep him awake.

Four weeks. Well, four weeks if they make haste.That could be doable. It would be hell, but it would certainly be doable. I'm getting too old for this shit. Clarke exhales again and rubs his eyes temporarily blind. "We'll leave in the morning." He should be retired. He should say no and turn his old friend and their newly acquired child away… but– God.

"I'm assuming you're both hungry," Clarke grumbles. With his tone, everything could be an insult. It took someone who could truly listen to figure out that he's actually there to help. He may be irritable and intimidating and prone to starting fights, but that doesn't mean he's somehow an empty, soulless husk of a man. No. He knows how to cook and how to use a sword. With innkeeping firmly off the table with his temper, it was only logical Clarke took the warrior career path. Well, that and the fact Clarke's never met a superhuman innkeeper before. What a waste the young alchemist's powers would go to if Clarke slaved his days away behind a countertop with a rag and apron.

With a pair of stomping feet, Clarke makes his way to the small kitchen area of his three-room self-built cottage. The back room is his bedroom with an adjoining bathroom complete with the best plumbing a medieval not-plumber could possibly craft. The largest room is a mix of a living room, dining room and kitchen. Clarke mostly eats on his porch where he can breathe in the outside air, but when the weather is particularly bad, he'll use the couch and low table to scarf his meals. He thanks his stupid god that he made extra food. He was going to be eating this stew for the next few days but… well, there are better uses for it.

Carefully, Clarke ladles his cooling stew into two of his cleanest bowls before sliding them over to Ren and the child–Edward, Eddin, Edwin? Edvin– Yes, that's it. "Eat it while it still has some semblance of warmth," Clarke deadpans with a sigh. "And you're staying here for the night." He points to his couch. It was another gift from a neighboring village after he removed a particularly annoying heard of Poison Tonic Wasps from their well. "Kid, you're on the couch. There's blankets in the trunk there." He points to a chest. "Ren, you're with me in my room." They're no strangers to sharing a bed. It's been four fucking years, but it shouldn't be… too bad. When he speaks next, his voice is barely above a whispered snarl. "We have a lot to talk about."

"Across the continent. Uh, four weeks if we make haste." About a month. Maybe more. Not necessarily what was- anticipated, but surely it could have been worse? Even then, four weeks at least. 'What have I dragged him into?'

"We'll leave in the morning. I'm assuming you're both hungry." Renier was about to argue, since they disliked the idea of taking more from Clarke, but it didn't seem to be up for debate. For once they read the room and kept their mouth shut. For the time being. It felt uncharacteristic and uncomfortable- staying quiet was sometimes a challenge- for them, anyway. But Clarke meant well, maybe not for Ren in particular right now, but either way.

Renier silently watches Clarke prepare the food. They didn't sit, as a small act of spite, but stood with their hand on the table. The stew was slid across the table- had he built it himself?- and Renier picked it up tentatively. They mumbled a thank-you and brought the stew to their lips, ignoring the quality out of spite since it was actually pretty decent for it being cooled by then.
"And you're staying here for the night." This was to be expected. The bowl was set back down. "Ren, you're with me in my room." Renier nodded. Not much of a surprise either. Even if it had been a while, Renier had shared a bed with Clarke countless times. They never thought too much about it.
"We have a lot to talk about."
"I figured as much."

Having finished, Renier brought their dishware to the sink, rinsing out the bowl and drying it. No way they were letting Clarke do it for them. Another thing they did themself was another thing they didn't feel like they owed, even if it was largely for their own peace of mind.
They also detached the strap on their drum, reattaching it to the back of their bag, the straps in resemblance to an X crossing over the instrument. They put the bag on their back again, even if they wouldn't be using it. It felt weird to hang it on a hook or chair or something. It was like accepting that Clarke was trying to do something for them, and Renier was stubborn.

Lowering the map, Edvin smiled faintly at Clarke. His heart leaped with joy. They all are going to get the locket! Everything is going to be okay! Carefully, he folded the map up and placed it back in the bag. They are going to go on an adventure tomorrow and will save Keosalon. For once he actually feels happy. It's making his face all fuzzy and tingly.

The excitement had fizzled out. His stomach rumbled. He frowned. The last time he ate was this morning. All the energy has led him to forget and he didn't even think to pack some sort of snack. He copied Reiner, watching as Clarke made food.

Edvin was still unsure about Clarke. A bit of him was unsure about everything. This is all still confusing. He has heard so much about him from a lot of people, but especially Hunor and Suho. He has heard about the adventures Clarke and Renier had and how the Beholder was slayed. They can help him!

Taking the bowl, he titled his chin up to look at Clarke. In a low volume, he said, "Thank you." The little prince happily ate every spoonful possible. When he finished, he stared down at the empty bowl. What to do now? Everything has been done for him. Everything, whether he liked it or not.

He watched Reiner. Maybe copy what they did? The little prince did so, or at least tried his very best to. As he took care of cleaning the bowl and utensil, he had to get on his tippy toes. Only when done did he relax his feet.

A yawn crawled out from his mouth. Edvin rubbed his eyes. He took a few blankets then went over to the couch. The first he did was place the doll where he was going to sleep then got onto the couch after taking off his slippers. The shadows lingered. Edvin pulled the blankets up to himself.

Clarke watches the boy and his old friend finish the stew and wash out their bowls in the sink. All the sink is is a cut out in his wall with some woolen insulation stuffed around an outdoor pump. He's near enough to the river that he can store it beneath his house. Every week, Clarke will go down to the lower floor and boil a large vat of it to use for drinking and bathing. Hell, he won't even be back until a month later–maybe even more than that. "If either of you need to bathe, the bathroom's attached to my room. Don't worry about conserving it, I have plenty and I won't need it for a while." Clarke points to his open bedroom door.

Sighing heavily, Clarke repackages the last of his stew. He'll put it all in a thermos in the morning. There's just enough for the three of them for one last helping. Before they set off, they're going to have to stop by the town. Having been four years, Clarke is irritatingly low on all adventuring supplies. He's going to need fishing hooks and travelling packs, a quiver and some new arrows and a horse– Shit. He's going to need horses for them all.

"How long will the journey be if we get steeds?" Clarke asks, mostly directed at the child because Ren is clearly incompetent. The boy is small enough to fit on the back of Ren's horse. Two stallions… Bought or rented… Clarke could likely get a discount on whatever choice through glare and grumble. "And how are your supplies?" The second question is actually directed towards Ren. Edvin's state is… tired. Exhausted, even. Clarke has to grit his teeth to suppress the memories of sleepless adventuring.

"And how are your supplies?"

Renier takes their bag off and looks through it for a moment. Their knives in the side pocket, dried fruit, a whetstone, a roll of gauze. The flask in the other side pocket. Bit of money from recent performances, a few other things. They continued sifting through the bag for another moment. "Damn it," They mumbled through gritted teeth. A rope. They didn't know when or why they picked it up, but apparently, they had. This- habit of theirs was starting to get on their nerves. When did this start, anyway? It'd become more rampant over the last few months. Very annoying.

"Supplies are alright. Could be better, but not urgent. I don't travel with much." Ren says flatly, closing their bag up, looking at Edvin for a moment. He's out. If not that, very tired. For a moment they were silent. "You can probably ask him when he wakes up."
It struck Renier how exhausted this kid must be. Even with magic, it wore off. It wasn't just physical stuff he'd been through either. And he was, what, nine? Yes, nine. He was so young though he seemed to act slightly older than he was, ignoring the way he carried the doll. And he managed to retain the information about the locket so well.

"You said we've got 'a lot to discuss'," Renier tried to catch Clarke's eye, theirs narrowed. "What would that be?" They started to mentally prepare themself for a few obvious questions, then quickly came to realize a lot of the actual answers from them would be something along the lines of 'I have no idea'. How would anyone respond after four years?

In the morning, he planned, he will wake up early, wash himself, and then go back to bed. Then he will have time to learn how to put his hair up by himself. A top knot shouldn't be that hard, he hoped.

"Steed?" He looked down at the doll in his arms, as if she would help him. The details were in his mind, yet they were not as fresh as they were before he started running with Reiner. Everything in his mind was quite wishy-washy to say the least.

Edvin lightly shook his hand. A grumbling voice emerged, the shadow laying on the floor beside the couch. Three and a half, at the most. He smiled as a way of saying thanks. "Three and a half at the most….I think."

Brushing a strand of hair away, he yawned. His eyes lingered at Clarke and Renier. What do they have to discuss? Are they going to do so in front of him? Why? He sighed. It doesn't sound like he will be getting a bedtime story from one of the adults.

The little prince lowered himself, but didn't close his eyes just yet. The shadow on the floor remained, but it was joined by another. Resting on his side, he waved his fingers, watching as the two shadows kept switching places. He smiled while trying to guess which one was which. It was a game he played with them ever since he was five. If only they could tell him bedtime stories, they're not good at it.

(no worries lemonwitch!! It's nearing finals week so I'm not sure how active I'll be either!)

With the boy prince tucked away on Clarke's couch, the man finally turns to Ren and claps his old friend on the shoulder. "C'mon," he grumbles, already steering them into his room. Sighing, he toes off his boots and snags a tied ribbon from around his wrist into his teeth. He nods his head towards the bathroom as an invitation. There's no use holding bad blood between them. Not when it's been four years and Clarke can't even bring himself to truly remember what caused them to fall apart.

"Use the bath if you need," Clarke mumbles, his hospitality leaving an odd taste in his throat. "Use anything in there, for all I care." He moves the ribbon to tie his hair back in a knot. As the silence settles over him, Clarke has to wonder what exactly he and Ren have to talk about. He knows that there's something that must be said, but Clarke's never been a wordsmith. That's always been the bard's specialty. Clarke has always been steered more towards grunts and answers of yes, no, and we'll see.

"What have…" He struggles to put his thoughts into words. "I–uh–fuck." He sighs and slips his shirt over his chest to change into one not covered in the sweat and mud of the day. "What were you doing in Keosalon? And how exactly did you acquire the boy?" Clarke momentarily imagines Ren struggling through a tall castle tower like one of those fairy tales Clarke read all those decades ago. He has to suppress a smile at the mental image of Ren singing some ballad with their drum before sprinting for the throne and snatching a child in the process.

“Right.” Renier took a moment to collect their thoughts. “I was originally in Keosalon by coincidence. I finished up a performance then stopped to talk to some guys, who told me about His High- Edvin.” They corrected. “I was… not sober, and agreed to whatever it was they were asking for help with. As it turns out, I agreed to “escort” Edvin out of Keosalon. On the day of, I went to where we agreed to meet, but they weren’t there, and- I heard they were arrested?” Ren starts pacing as they ramble.
“And- and I was running out of time, so I just climbed the rope they gave me, then got the kid out of there and then there were guards and stuff so we just got out of there. I kinda just set my mind to the first and nearest place that I could think of ‘cause they’re definitely searching for us, and…. Yeah.” Their explanation stops abruptly and they stop pacing, realizing how just how bad this is.
“This looks really, really bad. I know.” The bard says, voice lowered. They became aware that they had, in fact, kidnapped Keosalon’s heir- the only one, and likely the last from the current rule. It wouldn’t be surprising to them if they were wanted dead. Jailed, at least. If people were after them and Edvin, it’d look like Clarke had something to do with it. As far as they knew, they’d lost the guards a while ago, but who knew at that point?
Soon, every step out into the public may become a gamble. And if Renier and Edvin were caught? Ren would have dragged Clarkeston into far more than they already feared. It was dawning on them that this would become more of an ordeal than it originally seemed to be.
Having explained this to Clarke, Renier finds themself at a loss for what to say next. What was there to say now that they've explained how they ran from Keosalon with its prince, who was on his couch, after denying and brushing it off? "Thank you, though." They continued hesitantly. "For helping."

His hand hung in the air as it draped over the edge of the couch. Edvin stopped with the little game as his attention became focused on the conversation between Clarke and Renier. Their voices were rather faint, yet he managed to listen in. He could not help it. Eavesdropping has become a habit for him and he has always used it for some sort of benefit.

The little prince frowned, mostly at himself. Yes he is free, but at the expense of putting him, Reiner, and Clarke in danger. He can only guess how many mercenaries were sent out to find him. Mercenaries. The ones that His Majesty would have set out to fetch people only to end up imorisoning them or worse.

Does this make him terrible? Is he a terrible person for all of this? But he must save the kingdom. His Majesty isn't doing anything except for having so many people watch the little prince's every step. Someone must do something in order to save Keosalon from the Clutcher.

Edvin hugged the doll. He couldn't help but think about all the risks. His mind cannot even imagine most of them. What would happen to Clarke and Renier if they get caught? What would happen to himself?

The shadows remained where they were. In the corner of his eye, they appeared fuzzy. "You do not have to stay the whole time," He mumbled to them. "I am quite alright." He waved his hand then the two shadows were able to move freely.

Why do you say that when you are resisting sleep? Suho asked. Edvin yawned then gave a small shrug. "I do not want to burden these men by putting themselves into danger," He added. They went on adventures together before you were born. They are more than capable of this adventure they will be going on with you.

Before he was born….Once again, he yawned. His eyelids were becoming heavy, yet the little prince was doing everything in his power to stay up just a bit longer.

Clarke listens with a set jaw and eyes that have been described as harsher than the biting cliffs of the Climbclaw Mountains. Truly, he doesn't mean to be so intense, but he supposes it just comes naturally with the sword and rusted armor. He's known Ren long enough that his resting glare won't scare them away. Clarke can't quite say the same for the child.

"You were entangled with a group that wanted to kidnap the boy, so you just beat them to the punch?" Clarke clarifies, arching a single dark brow. "And they got arrested and you managed to slip away with the only heir to Keosalon?" This entire situation just seems to get worse and worse, but Clarke has faced much worse odds. Granted, he faced those terrible odds when he was twenty-something, reckless, and in peak physical form. Well, he supposed age has made him a little more than just crotchety.

Yes, this situation does look horrifically bad. Clarke and Ren could lose their heads. Hell, they could lose the only heir to a powerful kingdom. One wrong step would be all it would take. They'd have paper faces up in every single goddamn town if they'd managed to be seen with the little prince. "This is going to have to be a stealth mission," Clarke grumbles because like hell he'll leave Ren and the child to fight on their own. "Remind me to buy heavy clothes when I go to the market tomorrow. Ones that'll be easy to conceal an identity." He snaps his fingers and finds a folded shirt from his self-built dresser. "You and the child will stay here–out of sight–until I return. Then, we can decide if we want to wait until nightfall or leave as soon as possible."

He doesn't address Renier's gratitude. Clarke doesn't feel the need to. "Until then, get some sleep, Ren." Clarke notes the drop in his voice, going from gruff to somewhat… soft? No– no, that's not it. "You need it." God knows how long the bard had been running. God knows how long since the bard has gotten the proper amount of sleep. Clarke himself doubts he'll rest tonight. Perhaps it's time to finally sharpen his sword.

“You were entangled with a group that wanted to kidnap the boy, so you just beat them to the punch? And they got arrested and you managed to slip away with the only heir to Keosalon?” Renier remained expressionless, staring blankly, knowing damn well Clarke had just summarized what had happened. “You and the child will stay here-out of sight- until I return.” Definitely more bluntly than they’d prefer, but that was to be expected of him. At least now there wasn’t much to hide.

Renier nodded tersely, then turned and closed the bathroom door behind them. They only bathed briefly before changing back into their clothes. Luckily they had some that were slightly different, being hesitant to ask for anything else. They prided themself in being able to appear more masculine or feminine by changing clothes, if only slightly. It didn’t hit them that this made them seem more like a criminal. Any consideration of it was hastily shaken away.

Once dressed, Renier shook the water out of their hair with their hands. They were now wearing the same shirt from before and beige harem pants. They figured the next day they might use it to seem more masculine. The bard returned their other clothes to their bag and exited, moving their bag to the foot of the bed.
Just after doing this, they lingered a moment before laying on the bed, their muscles tensed, staring at the wooden ceiling, stiff and reviewing the last day. It’d been so fast-paced that it felt like one event to the next, minor details omitted from Renier’s memory. To try and grasp anything more than leaving and arriving was worthless. All there was now was the present, too tired to try any harder than they had. Defeated, they gave in to fatigue, and the room immediately went black as their surroundings became as prominent as dust.

Edvin laid on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. His sleepiness was pushing him down against the couch like gravity, but he just could not let his eyes close for the night. The surrounding area darkened as thoughts swirled around in his head. He still worried about the danger. He still worried about all the things his mind cannot fanthom. It was those worries that managed to keep him awake.

Sitting up, he threw the one end of the blankets over in order to swing his little feet over the end. They didn't touch the floor yet. Hovering above, he stared down at his slippers then over to the door of Clarke's bedroom.

His eyes then flickered around, taking every detail that they could catch. The little prince was still in his disguise, yet he felt lazy to not change into the clothes that he had brought. A decision floated around his mind. He looked back at the door then hummed while pondering.

Setting the doll down beside him, he undid the red ribbon that kept his hair up. Wind brushed the back of his neck as his hair fell down. He tied the ribbon around his wrist into a loose bow. Then he got off the couch.

The wood creaked as his feet made contact. This made him jump, immediately grabbing the doll. Edvin slowly made his way over towards the door step by step. When he was close enough, he made a fist and gently knocked three times. One…two…three…

His eyes lit up as he looked up, waiting eagerly.

Clarke watches as the tension begins to ease from Renier's shoulders as they slowly drift to sleep. He's sitting in a chair by the door, poking at a shabby hearth with a fire poker. The embers are still smoldering from when he lit it that morning, keeping it controlled throughout the day and smoking the occasional slab of meat. That's why his room smells like steak. He hopes it isn't embarrassing. Not that he cares… Just… Whatever.

Above the aforementioned fireplace is his sword–a bronzen blade with stained edges. The dark maroon used to be something he would spend hours in the river trying to clean, but he gave up after three years of no effort. He still oils and scrubs it regularly, even in its years of idleness. It's a… coping mechanism of sorts. Something to do with his hands as his brain shuts off. How much blood has the blade tasted in the past decade? How many monsters' souls has he reaped with the longsword?

He should probably be protecting the house. An old friend and a child are in his abode with an entire kingdom after their heads. He sighs and stands, but before he can pick up his reliable blade, a knock sounds at the door. Raising an eyebrow, Clarke clicks the latch open and allows the hinges to creak open. It's the child. Shit. Clarke can barely cope with his own nightmares, how can he aid such a young boy in navigating his?

"Ren's asleep," Clarke grumbles. That's who the prince would be here to see. Why would he ever seek out a man he met not even an hour ago. Ren… well, Renier had kidnapped-slash-rescued Edvin from his home, provided him protection across the land, fed him, bathed him, played for him– It only makes sense for the boy to want the bard. "Do you need something?" He inquires anyways because like hell he'll turn the prince back to the dark living room.

Renier was used to sleeping lightly, with their sense of sound alert like a trap that would be set off by the snap of a branch. The knocking on the door rang as if it were far away. It took them about five seconds to process the noise before flinching and opening their eyes. Ren assessed their immediate surroundings and remembered where they were. They closed their eyes again and began to return to unconsciousness.

Wait, but who was knocking? Renier heard a few voices. They slowly rose and blinked, clearing their blurred vision as it focused. Clarke had the door open and was talking to the little silhouette. The situation clicked and they started to leave the bed. Although they waited a moment- who was Edvin here for, they wondered. They watched and waited for the heir to state what he needed, whether that be from Clarke or Renier. They knew they'd be happy to provide, but still nagging in the back of their mind was realizing that the bard was the one who'd been dragging him around, snatching him from his home, and putting him in danger. They wondered if Edvin had heard the conversation- in that case, they wouldn't be too surprised if he was more inclined to speak to the warrior than them.

Still, Ren stood and waited to see if they'd be needed. If it weren't a request for Clarke specifically, they would step in and be of assistance.

(sorry for the kinda short reply again!! also from today until the 29th its gonna be a bit harder to post, but ill do my best to be active if i can!)

Looking over his shoulder, he took a few steps back. When he had returned his gaze, his chin lowered. Edvin was sure that he was never more patient than he is right now. Thanks to the questions plaguing his mind, he is still up. Sure his eyelids are a bit droopy and the little prince is sluggish, but here he is standing in front of the door to Clarke's room.

The door creaked open. He threw his head back to see Clarke. Still he feels unsure about this warrior. The warrior is huge like some of the guards back in the palace. Strong and tough. And yet, there is something about Clarke that he cannot put his small finger on. There must be more to the warrior than what the stories say. He wondered if Clarke cannot sleep too.

Edvin leaned his head back, looking up at Clarke. Then he quickly got a glimpse of Reiner. Is he supposed to be asking for one of them? Really he just got up to knock because he doesn't want to be alone. He feels bad for dragging these two adults into so much.

"I cannot sleep," He finally said. With the back of his hand, he rubbed his left eye. "Can I sleep with you two? Please?"

Clarke looks to the child, then back to the bed. Shit. There's no way Renier could've slept through that. He doubts that the years alone have done anything to help quell Ren's horridly light sleeping. He steadies the boy with his deep copper eyes. Small, helpless, vitally important to a powerful kingdom– Stop. I shouldn't assess the boy like I would assess monsters. Sighing and running a calloused hand over his lined face, Clarke steps to the side.

"I won't be sleeping tonight," he says quietly, gruffly. "Somebody needs to prepare for tomorrow, and it shouldn't be either of you." His gaze settles on the idle sword hanging above the fireplace. Shaking his head, Clarke then points to the vacant pillow of the right side of the bed aside Renier. The bard shouldn't care. "Please, try to sleep as much as you can. I don't know how strenuous the journey will be."

This journey… A month across the continent to find some sort of talisman the boy requires for whatever reason. Though most of his questions had been answered by Renier, Clarke still holds so many more. However, they're all for another time–meant for the morning or when their horses require them to slow. Only then will Clarke manage to get the information from both the bard and the prince about whatever situation he's being dragged into.

Ren waited for Clarke's reply. They then smiled at Edvin and gestured for him to come forward and lie down. They almost argued that Clarkeston should try to sleep as well, willing to give up their spot, then quickly remembered his stubbornness. It was often difficult to shake him from his decisions, even with the bard's persuasive nature, which typically worked on other people… probably anyone but Clarke. Although they were tempted, they decided not to nudge him about it like they used to those years ago. Hadn't they changed since then? Ren hoped they did. For the better- at least that's what they wanted.

Renier wondered how often the prince slept by himself. They wouldn't be surprised if he were guarded full-time, especially in the night. They recalled younger siblings of theirs being uncomfortable sleeping by themselves- but for a young prince who was probably eight or nine- he was so small, it was hard to tell- and had been surrounded by authority throughout what must have been his entire life, this didn't surprise the bard. They sat back down on the bed.

His head tilted to the left. The little prince is certain that sleep is also vital for adults too. He wondered if he really could say such a thing. After all, he is a guest in Clarke's home. Well, after basically barging into Clarke's home. And he doesn't want to be rude either way. They all need to get ready for the start of their journey tomorrow.

"Wouldn't sleep count as preparation?" He asked. Another yawn left him. "Warriors need sleep too. And we can all fit in that bed somehow, I think." He wasn't going to say please though. Sometimes such a word isn't useful in cases like this. It would be nice for all of them to get their good night's sleep before whatever happens tomorrow. They need to get on the right foot in order to get this talisman.

Edvin shuffled through the door to Reiner. The floor underneath him creaked. His face was worn-out. There was still a buzzing, throbbing feeling in his legs and feet. Thankfully he will not be alone while asleep.

"I am sorry I woke you up," He whispered to Reiner. His head was kept down as he stared at his feet. "Am I a horrible person for bringing you and Clarke into this?"

Clarke stutters with his movement towards the sword at the boy's words. "Well. You two should sleep to prepare for tomorrow. I will work to ensure we're all ready to go. I don't need sleep. Not right now at least." It pains Clarke to even stay for too long in the house. His neck itches, his scalp tingles, his heart palpitates every few minutes. His hibernated reflexes and heightened senses have decided to return. Clarke is unsure if he should take it as a blessing or a curse. "Just go to sleep, child. God knows you need it." Clark accentuates his sentence with a heavy sigh as he finally dismounts his sword and studies the blade in the dying firelight.

The warrior overhears the prince's small words to Renier. With a clenched jaw, Clarke refuses to comment. No need for awkward, stumbling affirmations when Ren's words will usually do just fine. That's how it always was… wasn't it? Ren would talk and talk and talk for seemingly forever while Clarke handled the more physical, action-centric parts of things. Clarke decapitated whatever horror awaited him in the forest. Ren would then barter them a nice inn room for the night.

The blade sings as Clarke runs the smoothing stone over it. Taking a seat in the rugged armchair beside the hearth, Clarke continues to work away at the sword. Despite his reflection already being clear in the stained surface, the warrior continues to slide the stone over it, again and again and again. He wouldn't be surprised if he ate away at the metal until dawn. It's happened before, right after Clarke nearly lost his head brawling with some behemoth in the swamp. The stress from events past and current are roughly the same, hence the resurgence of Clarke's favorite nervous habit.