A Few Drinks In
Fredas, the 21th of Last Seed, 4E 201
A hot meal and few hours later, the pair was seated in the Bannered Mare, Asling only about halfway to tipsy and was starting to see why Adair never drank; only three ales in and he was barely coherent. At the current moment, he was reclining lazily against the bar, studying her with a serious expression as he attempted to take a sip of his ale with the side of his mouth, a rather comical sight.
“You know... you're pretty strange for a thief...” he said around his mug.
Asling let out a snort in response. “How so? I would have thought I was pretty typical for a thief,” she said with a smirk. “I'm witty, nimble of foot as well as fingers, and of course, I steal things.”
“That's true... but I think you could be a better person than you are... not that you're that bad to begin with...” he said, the comment catching Asling off guard; he must have her confused for someone else. “And I don't know many thieves that are also Dragonborn,” he added, holding up his mug as if toasting to the notion, then downed the rest of its contents.
“I don't know many thieves who are heroes either,” she pointed out. “I don't agree with you but... I can't argue with that last bit. I'm the only Dragonborn I've ever met,” she exhaled slowly, raising her mug as well. Why bother trying to improve her character? Asling was happy the way she was, living her life for herself. She couldn't fathom why Adair was so eager to reform her, save for her apparently being the Dragonborn. That and “Skyrim needed a hero” was a common topic around here.
She pondered on these thoughts, watching Adair try and fail to wave down the barmaid for another glass; she had already slipped the woman a few gold coins to pass him by as Adair had quite enough for one night and didn't the extra effort of carrying him upstairs. A voice spoke across the inn and Asling turned her attention elsewhere, her nose wrinkling in disgust.
That damned bard again... he already tried to approach her earlier, but was redirected by Adair.
Apparently, he did not like bards much, or maybe it was just this bard.
“No doubt they still tell tales of Mikael and his sweet songs across Cyrodiil, where last I traveled,” Mikael was saying to the other patrons, his prideful tone grating on her nerves.
“I can say with great confidence that you all should doubt that since I'm from Cyrodiil,” Asling called loudly from her seat at the bar, earning laughter from the crowd seated at the fire. Mikael's head shot in her direction, sending her a brief scowl that morphed into a smirk when she turned away.
She nudged Adair with a grin on her face until she saw he was laying his head down on the counter, close to passing out. So much for the back up, she grimaced as Mikael came closer.
“Oh? Do you doubt my words fair maiden?” The bard slid into the empty seat beside her, raising a brow. Chest puffed out and tone smug, he certainly thought he was the Divine's gift to woman... perhaps some sharp words would change his mind.
“I more than doubt them bard; were you any sort of notable, I would have recognized you as soon as I stepped in here,” she said, propping her chin on the back of her hand, watching with immense pleasure as his eyes narrowed at the slightest increment.
He recovered quickly, however and straightened in his seat, mirroring her pose and inched closer to her as he spoke again. “Well my beautiful lady, should you decide to spend the night with me, I can promise you'll never forget me.” Mikael spoke smoothly, flashing her a toothy smile and Asling considered shoving him right off of his stool and onto his ass, but Adair beat her to the punch.
Literally.
While she was distracted by Mikael's weak attempts to flirt with her, Adair had stumbled off his stool behind her and cocked a shaky arm back, slugging the bard. The blow only glanced across the side of his head, but made enough contact that his body twisted around comically atop the stool, then toppled over to the floor, dazed.
“Don't you talk to her like that you milk drinking ass...” Adair growled, his hands clinched into fists as he stood over the bard. He would have sounded far more intimidating if his eyes weren't so clearly out of focus from the liquor.
Asling blinked then exploded with laughter. “Wonderful shot Adair,” she grinned, patting him on the shoulder and making him wobble over until she caught him and braced him against the bar.
“Maybe it's time to get you to bed...” she muttered, her hand going to pay their tab when a voice cut in from the floor.
“Cheap shot! You'll pay for that!” Mikael shook his head, slowly getting to his feet, his face twisted in anger. Adair lunged for Mikael again, but was stopped short by a wave of dizziness.
“No, this is a cheap shot,” Asling stepped around Adair and punched Mikael herself; while Adair may have been far stronger than her, she was not near as uncoordinated and the hit landed dead center between his eyes. Out cold from the impact, Mikael feel to the floor with a dull thump and lay motionless.
This time, he wouldn't be getting up.
Cheers went up around the tavern and one of the burly Nords nearest Asling pounded her roughly on the back in admiration. Adair apparently was not done fighting and went after the Nord, albeit unsuccessfully. The Nord caught him and held him up, laughing in a deep booming voice. “I think your friend has had enough.”
“Yeah... no kidding...” Asling snorted as she shook out her fingers, her knuckles stinging. “Calm down Adair... your drunk and we're going to bed.”
“I'm not that drunk...” Adair argued.
“Believe me... you are.” She cast a glance down at Mikael unconscious on the floor and rolled the bard over to one of the benches so he was out of the walkway, bending down and digging a stack coins from his purse and slapping them on the counter. “He can pay for our tab, and here's a bit extra,” she murmured, placing a tip in the barmaid's hand as she righted the stool.
“Err... sorry for the lack of music tonight,” she added hastily, slinging Adair's arm over her shoulder and leading him upstairs.
“I had him! I didn't need your help...” Adair spoke, his words slurred.
“Yes, you did have him, but I finished him off, just in case. We got to have each others' backs, remember?” Asling said, leading him into the room and easing him down onto the bed.
“I suppose...” he grumbled, his hands going to paw uselessly at his armor in attempt to remove it.
After removing her own armor and watching Adair struggle for a bit, Asling moved to help him, as there was no way she was letting him sleep with it on.
“Will you stop moving? I'm trying to get your damned armor off,” she said, yanking a tad too roughly at his chest plate. Adair only grunted in response, head lolling to the side as Asling wrestled him out of his padding. As fun as it was watching Adair loosen up, she honestly wished she had kept that last drink from him. He was far too loose now, and it was proving rather tedious to look after him. She held feared he would wander off if left unattended, which while hilarious to think about, would attract far more attention than she wanted.
“There... finally...” she said, releasing his shoulder as she removed the last piece and stowed it under the bed with the rest of their belongings.
“Thanks...” He flopped over on the bed as soon as she let go of him, laying across the bed sideways until Asling moved him over, sinking down onto the bed beside him and drawing the covers over them both.
She rolled to her side and tried to get comfortable, growing irritated at Adair's constant movement. “You are utterly ridiculous... go to sleep...” she mumbled, feeling him shift behind her, lazily draping one arm over her hip.
“Hnn...” Adair grunted in reply then lay still, his breathing slowing down as he slipped into a deep slumber, snoring softly.
Asling let out a sigh, repositioning her head and closing her eyes. While not exactly opposed to the extra body heat, she still found it odd that he was so close to her in such a large bed, writing it off as a side effect from his intoxication. He would return to hating her in the morning, like always.
“Goodnight Adair.” She said, getting nothing but a low grunt in return.
“Good morning Adair!” Asling sang loudly, her voice splitting Adair's skull in two. She ducked her head to avoid the pillow Adair chucked at her from across the room, stepping over and nudging his shoulder. “Now, now... that was rather rude. And I even brought you breakfast!”
Adair groaned audibly at her words, his stomach rolling. “No... no food... just... silence and sleep...”
“Aww... did someone have too much to drink?” Asling cooed, a grin crawling across her face at the nasty look Adair sent in response. He tried to move away from her and go back to sleep, but Asling immediately grabbed his shoulder.
“Come on... I got some water and food for you. Bread, cheese, and some apples,” she said, forcing him on his side so he was facing her, then gestured to the table where the food was. “Hurry up, we've got places to be.”
With great difficulty, Adair got up, gripping at the edge of the bed as his stomach rolled and knotted again. Food was probably a good idea... if he didn't vomit it back up.
Asling noted his sluggish movements and sighed impatiently. “Alright, come on... our carriage is waiting,” she said, hoping that the prospect of leaving would be enough to motivate him.
“Wait... you hired a carriage?” Adair exclaimed, looking bewildered. When the hell had she ever been willing to drop her own coin on anything.
“Well of course,” she started, taking the bread and water from the table and shoving them towards him as she went on. “Mikael was nice enough to fund the trip, and you said I had to meet the Greybeards, right?”
“So you want to see them?” He asked slowly, stretching his arm out and taking the bread and water from her, marveling at her change of heart.
“Not at all,” Asling said cheerfully. “But, if it means I don't have to listen to you bitch, we should head that way.”
Adair grimaced at her words but said nothing in return, eating his food slowly and trying to fight it from coming back up. He stared at her as she finished fitting her armor, chewing thoughtfully. As willing as Asling appeared, Adair could sense something was off, but he was too sick to consider the possibilities; he just had a good feel for her tenancies to be sneaky.
And how right he was.
While Adair was still passed out, Asling had dug through his things and found his map, tracing over the roads until she found the way to Riften, then began plotting out how she would dupe Adair into joining her. She decided that the easiest way was to make him leave while he was still feeling the effects of the liquor and make him think they would be going to Ivarstead, while the actual route would be past it through Shor's Stone, then to Riften.
According to the carriage driver she spoke to earlier this morning, it would take about a day and a half to reach Shor's Stone if they left within the hour, and they would arrive at the gates of Riften by nightfall the following day.
Ironically, if she had just gone East instead of North, she would have made it to Riften and bypassed all this trouble with the Dragonstone and Adair... far too late now, but at least she was finally on track.
She just hoped her contact was still waiting for her, watching in agony as Adair took his sweet time finishing the last of the food she had brought him, then don his armor. As soon as he was on his feet, Asling plucked her bag up and darted down the stairs, shifting from one foot to the other as she watched Adair trudge behind her. “For the Divine's sake, will you hurry up?”
“If I go any faster, I'll get to taste my breakfast again...” Adair grumbled, gingerly stepping down the steps with legs that shook like a newborn calf's. “Why did you even take me up here in the first place?”
“The only reason I dragged your ass upstairs to begin with is because if I hadn’t, listening to you bitch about sleeping on the floor in your armor would have been a bigger strain on me than it is now,” she said tritely, and was once again successful in silencing her companion. Though she supposed that he would exact his revenge once he was feeling better.
Downstairs by the fire, Mikael sat tuning his instruments. It looked as if his nose had been broken and the side of his face was purple and bruised. Asling caught Mikael's eye, sending him a wide grin and a peppy little wave. The bard turned his head away from her, leaving her snickering to herself.
Serves the bastard right.
Seeing how battered the bard was, Adair turned to Asling, his mouth open to ask what had happened, but quickly shut it as soon as he saw the look on her face. He decided he rather not know, following her out the doors of the tavern and through town. After making their way outside the gates, they boarded the carriage and started off on the next leg of their journey.
Asling leaned against the side of the carriage and watched as Adair hung out the back, entertained by how sick the alcohol had made him. “Had I known you had such a delicate stomach, I might have suggested something lighter last night, like perhaps milk or water,” she said in a teasing tone.
Adair didn't need to look at her to see her smug expression. “Shut your mouth before I do it for you.” He turned towards her and glared, though there was little energy behind his threat with how green his face looked.
Letting out a snort, Asling scooted her feet away from him. “Please don't vomit on my boots; I like these and they weren't cheap,” She said in amusement.
At first, all she got was a groan in response as Adair laid his head down and closed his eyes. “Wake me when we reach Ivarstead,” he mumbled, curling up into a tighter ball as the carriage rolled over a dip in the road.
“As you wish,” Asling said, shifting around and getting comfortable in her seat. She glanced at Adair to make sure his eyes were shut, then drew a dusty book from her knapsack, brushing off the cover then cracking it open. This was a long ride, so she might as well keep herself busy.