"I was insufferable once, too."

"A little something sweet for someone sweet."

Eurybia couldn't stop thinking about it, try as she might, especially not with the five-pound jug of mead that Gwendolyn had gifted her weighing down her back. It could have been nothing, a harmless flirtation. And, not that Eurybia had much experience (not that she had any experience at all in these things), but considering the manner with which Gwendolyn had received Eurybia's attempts before, it was notable progress.

So, it was unfortunate that Eurybia and her motley crew would be leaving indefinitely-at the very least, for a couple of months. Growing up in such seclusion, she'd developed a one-track mind, bordering on obsessive at times. She'd have to work on that. But following the brief interaction, Eurybia was understandably preoccupied, even through their move to the king's guest suites. It was a far more luxurious set-up, to be sure, and free. But it lacked the charm of the inn, and of course, it lacked Gwendolyn.

Eurybia wasn't one for much sleep, and never really had been. Since developing her magic and druidic insight, she had even less need for it. She preferred to exist on her own, in a trance-like meditative state when she had to, or simply just sitting awake under the night sky. So this is what she did the night before the group's exodus. She sat for a couple of hours on one of the palace balconies, consumed by an awareness of her solitude despite the somewhat uncomfortable companionship in which she found herself. Her thoughts turned, as they often did (albeit inadvertently) to Gwendolyn.

The party wouldn't notice if she left for awhile, especially not Riarden, who snored about as loud as the crowd they'd fought in front of at the Harvest Festival that week. It didn't take much effort to sneak quietly out of their chambers, and with one hand on the javelin that felled two dragons, the palace guards didn't think twice about Eurybia's sudden absence. She walked the streets of Fargard, empty but for a few pickpockets and working women. Eurybia was unbothered, her threateningly focused countenance dettering any pickpockets or nighttime scoundrels.

A short time after, Eurybia came upon The Terrible Fiddler. Come to think of it, although the pot-o'-brown may have lacked salt, the inn wasn't terrible at all. There were only a few lights on within, and hardly a sign of motion. She enjoyed the stillness of the night, staring up at the heights of the inn. All was quiet, yet Eurybia's heart beat faster in anticipation.

It was an inn, of course, so it was never really closed. Eurybia gently pushed open the worn wooden door, and with a slight creak and small gust of wind, it opened effortlessly and she stepped into the main room. Nobody was in it, naturally, and it was very nearly cleaned up from the day, with only a few bowls, plates, and utensils remaining. There was a light coming from a back room (a kitchen, she assumed) with quiet sounds of dishes being washed and presumably the next morning's breakfast starting to simmer. So...Gwendolyn was still awake.

Eurybia walked pensively around the room, taking in the city from inside the dusty windows. Placing a few pieces of silver on a shelf, she poured herself a pint of ale from a keg in the corner. Settling into the end of a long table farthest from the kitchen, her leg jittered with anxiety, heart now pounding.

This was all so very ridiculous and difficult. She'd feel so foolish if the conversation didn't go well.

Drumming along the wooden table, she felt the grain of the wood beneath her fingers, narrowly avoiding splinters. Her motions slowing, small flowers sprouted intermittently from between the table's planks. With no lanterns or torches lit, their color was illuminated by the moon through the window, and Eurybia herself with her navy skin and quiet demeanor could be seen only by silhouette.

The flowers and small vines sprouted along the table as Eurybia stared out the window, feeling suffocated by her solitude and silence. She didn't notice when the sounds in the kitchen stopped.

"I hope you paid for that ale, sea elf."

Eurybia's head turned sharply as she took in the sight of the older innkeeper holding a candle in the entrance to the main room. Strangely calm then, she took a final sip of the drink and set down the soon-to-be-forgotten tankard.

"Well, I've got to develop a code of ethics at some point in life." Wryly and awkwardly she rose, taking a few steps towards Gwendolyn, playing with the newly sprouted table-flowers on the way. "You said you were insufferable once, too. What did you mean by that?"

"Straight to the point, I see." Gwendolyn gave a slight smile, neither moving nor sitting down. "I admire your brashness, how you've not yet learned to stop every thought and emotion from reading across your face."

At that, Eurybia's eyes widened.

"Does that shock you?" Gwendolyn continued. "You're young yet, as I've said. With the presumption that you're more enigmatic than you really are. You'll get there, just as I did, so I wouldn't worry about it." She moved towards the end of the same table, sitting on its top, legs tucked on top of the bench.

"Well, I suppose I'm nothing now if not perseverant. I know what's appealing to me, but I've not always had the courage before to ask for it." Eurybia caught herself toying with the end of her braid, slamming her hand down to her side as soon as she noticed. This wasn't the time for weak emotion.

"We're leaving for weeks. I don't know why I came."

The two elves, different as could be, stared at each other from across the length of the table. Gwendolyn broke the increasingly pregnant silence.

"I'm satisfied you did, even though you're still a little young for me." Eurybia felt a flush across her cheeks and moved her gaze downwards to her hand still entangled in the flowers. "Don't look like that. I still find your presence...captivating."

Eurybia's breath hitched, surprised, but clearly pleased. "I am...also satisfied. I have no idea how to go about any of this, clearly. But you should know you have a way about you. Warm and almost mischievous." She paused, wanting to proceed, but fearing she'd look like a fool.

"I know that I like it, either way. I'm not a natural people person, as you've seen. I don't make speeches, I don't have feelings."

Another pause.

"But it makes me sad that I'm traveling. That's unexpected. I can't help but think it's because I met you. Maybe it's silly, we don't know each other-"

Eurybia, in her emotion-fueled rambling, failed to notice Gwendolyn's eyes glitter with amusement. She set her candle down on the table, standing now to face Eurybia.

"Stop worrying. You need more healthy confidence."

The two women stood for a minute, thinking, taking each other in.

"You've made yourself clear, for now. After all, I wouldn't have given you a week's wages of mead for nothing. I know that you like it. And you've conjured these flowers."

"I was only thinking of you while I waited."

"And you were sure I'd come, too. They're beautiful."

Eurybia just barely stopped herself from being too forward, from saying that it was Gwendolyn who was truly beautiful. "You'd better not forget me while I'm gone. I do know I leave an impression- when I come back to Fargard, I hope it's still a good one."

Forever keeping the tense distance between them, Gwendolyn replied. "I'll remember you, you can be sure of that. It's not every day a true fighter comes into my inn, immediately vying for my attention. That would be worth something to anyone."

Emboldened, Eurybia plucked a flower from the table and closed the distance between herself and Gwendolyn. The older elf was taller, slimmer, paler, with hair shimmering like golden thread. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence and experience, and with the welcoming air of comfort that had so attracted Eurybia upon her first stay at The Terrible Fiddler.

Tucking the flower behind Gwendolyn's ear, Eurybia spoke lowly to the innkeeper, just slightly encroaching on her personal space.

"And you can be sure I'll be back. You'll hear from me, too."

Then Eurybia slipped past Gwendolyn, brushing her hand with a dark blue pinky. She stopped, glancing down at the table just inside the door, thoughtful. She fingered a small wooden spoon upon it that hadn't made it into that night's dishes. Thoughtful, Eurybia slipped it into her pocket-it would prove itself useful. She looked back at Gwendolyn, happy to see the woman's gaze fixed on her own.

"Goodnight, Gwendolyn."

She left through the inn's front door into the quiet night. On the walk back to the king's palace, her thoughts were entirely of Gwendolyn.