Oli Beju
I'm worse than your conscience at 3AM.
The pondering only lasted briefly before Rika came to suddenly realize that she was hungry. It’d been a few days since she’d had a full meals and surviving off of foliage would only maintain her for so long. The expenditure of energy from the earlier tumult of excitement had done its job to distract her from how hungry she truly was, while simultaneously exasperating the situation. Entering her room, she took notice to the mirror on the nearby vanity, the latter of which was rather poorly put together, if not outright desuetude, but served its due purpose. The first thing she took notice of was her skin, clear and clean from the bath, her svelte figure (largely obscured by the billowy night dress that stopped at her ankles), and then her hair. It had grown long down her back and, whilst wavy, curled in large coils at the tips… she smiled, and then looked over to the bag sitting on the bed.
There were still some letters that went unopened, but she knew ahead of time as to what their contents would largely entail. Sitting on the bed, she rummaged through the âumonière, going through her correspondences: A brief treatise from a sommelier turned cleric, the earlier charter declination, a letter involving the late Count Joanneson’s fiduciary estates, which, by now, she’d seen enough of to know that it meant absolutely nothing to her. The remaining contents were nothing worth noting, either.
The evening was still quite early on, and seeing as RIka was still hungry, she stood, placing her satchel under the bed while grabbing another five gold coins from the inner pouch. Colin was one of her favorite cooks and it would be nothing short of a dining iniquity to pay Barry for tea, but not pay the giant for his culinary mastery. She looked at her attire in the mirror once more… a night gown, but this wasn’t the estate, and besides… it was more than a bedsheet. Just for good measure, however, she put on a black flounce robe which extended equally to her ankles as the gown and tied its front close. Putting on some evening shoes, she grabbed her dagger from the satchel bag and tied it (the inn was still a public place, after all) to her right thigh, checking one last time to make sure that it wasn’t noticeable. Appearing more than well-to-do, she turned, exited the room, locked it behind herself, and proceeded back downstairs to the guild hall. It was time for a meal.
There were still some letters that went unopened, but she knew ahead of time as to what their contents would largely entail. Sitting on the bed, she rummaged through the âumonière, going through her correspondences: A brief treatise from a sommelier turned cleric, the earlier charter declination, a letter involving the late Count Joanneson’s fiduciary estates, which, by now, she’d seen enough of to know that it meant absolutely nothing to her. The remaining contents were nothing worth noting, either.
The evening was still quite early on, and seeing as RIka was still hungry, she stood, placing her satchel under the bed while grabbing another five gold coins from the inner pouch. Colin was one of her favorite cooks and it would be nothing short of a dining iniquity to pay Barry for tea, but not pay the giant for his culinary mastery. She looked at her attire in the mirror once more… a night gown, but this wasn’t the estate, and besides… it was more than a bedsheet. Just for good measure, however, she put on a black flounce robe which extended equally to her ankles as the gown and tied its front close. Putting on some evening shoes, she grabbed her dagger from the satchel bag and tied it (the inn was still a public place, after all) to her right thigh, checking one last time to make sure that it wasn’t noticeable. Appearing more than well-to-do, she turned, exited the room, locked it behind herself, and proceeded back downstairs to the guild hall. It was time for a meal.
~