Stories in an Inn
Nalaea groaned. The last thing she remembered was two humans standing over her, after having chased off the 3 dwarves who attacked her. Wherever she was, it was cool, soft, and smelled nice. She decided to risk opening her eyes, only to find the sparkling blue eyes of a human woman filling her entire view.
"Whoa hello welcome to my personal space can I help you?" Nalaea asked, shocked by the extreme closeness of the other person.
"I told you she was awake!" Vordea said, turning her gaze to look at Elias.
"Mira do you have any concept of personal space? At all?" Elias asked, groaning. "Good afternoon, Miss Elf. You got a name to share with us? I'm Elias and the weirdo up in your business is named Mira."
"It's uh-" Nalaea began to say, but stopped. "Can you fuck off?"
Vordea laughed. She was a lively one, a perfect addition. Retreating back to her chair, she winked.
"Thanks. It's Nalaea. Nalaea Herydark." Nalaea finished. "Where am I?"
"An Inn of ill-repute, where else?" Elias answered with a chuckle. "The Hanged Man, of course."
At this moment, Francisco walked in, his arms full of food. "This is all I could steal without getting caught-oh you're awake!"
"Steal?" Nalaea asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You expect me to pay for this shit?" Francisco asked. "Half of it is stale. It's the Hanged Man, after all."
"Is this the innocent youth you two are corrupting?" Nalaea asked.
"Allowed me to introduce myself." Francisco said, tossing the food on the other bed. "I am Francisco Javier Manuel Juan Jose Carlos Vargas." Francisco said, bowing deeply.
"Lestian?" Nalaea asked.
"Lestian." Elias replied, nodding.
"Of course. And you?"
"Who can say?" Elias said with a shrug. "All I know is my great-grandfather was the famous quintuple mage, Silas Malliot."
"It's Malloit." Nalaea said.
"What?"
"His name was Silas Malloit, not Malliot."
"Ah, fuck's sake!" Elias practically shouted. "I've been saying me own goddamn name wrong my whole life!"
Vordea burst out laughing, glad that she wasn't the one who had to tell Elias. It had been bothering her for nearly a week now, and she was very close to telling him, but Nalaea did it for her, and she was very glad for that.
"You." Nalaea said. "I don't like your aura."
Vordea smiled. "Few elves do."
"Who are you?"
"Mira Frost, an adventurer."
"Nah don't bullshit me, who the fuck are you?" Nalaea demanded, trying in vain to climb out of bed, Francisco easily pushing her back down.
"Sit down idiot. You're still injured." Francisco said, shaking his head.
"I'm fine!" Nalaea insisted.
"No you're not. I'm holding you down with one hand." Francisco responded.
"Call him Franny he hates that." Elias suggested with a grin.
"It's a secret." Vordea said, smiling. "See if you can figure it out."
"Let's cut this farce here. She'll just say that to any personal questions you ask her. Stay here with the boy tonight. Me and Mira have our own room." Elias said, getting up, grabbing a few pieces of the food on the bed and stuffing them in his pockets.
"Don't try anything with me." Nalaea warned Francisco.
"I'm a thief not a rapist." Francisco said, making a face. "Besides, I have a date with the bar wench later."
Elias meanwhile swept Vordea off her feet and into his arms, giving her a kiss. "Come on Mira, let's go."
"Oh, are you going to carry me over the threshold? We're not even married yet." Vordea said, teasing him. "I do know a priest though." Vordea continued, kissing Elias on the cheek.
The sounds of Elias and Vordea flirting drifted away as he walked down the hall with her in his arms, leaving Francisco and Nalaea alone.
"They always like that?" Nalaea asked. "That was... intense."
"You don't know the half of it. You plan on sticking around?" Francisco asked, already devouring the food he brought up.
Nalaea shrugged. "Might as well. Dwarves are a bunch of fuckin racists anyway."
"What do you mean? Well, besides the condition we found you in."
"The problems never end in the Eternal Empire when you're an elf, man." Nalaea said, picking up a piece of bread and inspecting it. "Is this food or a rock?"
"Could be both, it is dwarves." Francisco answered, laughing. "How so?"
"I was detained for days in Port Sulala under the guise of confirming my identity. Most inns toss me out, and most shops make me pay extra. They hate elves." She explained, trying to chew on the bread. "Got any water?"
"Of course." He answered, tossing her a jug. "Doesn't make any sense though."
"Racism is based on stereotypes, and tends to be rooted in a distorted truth." Nalaea replied, pouring water on the bread to make it more edible. "Ever heard of the Fall of La'Rozan?"
"Sorry, I'm not a historian." Francisco said with a shrug.
"That's fine, we got some time before your date." Nalaea said, attempting to chew on the stale bread. "This tastes like shit, Franny."
"I told you, this is the Hanged Man, but go on then."