A Party
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 118279
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The party consisted of a tall blonde sorceress named Jessamine, a swarthy trickster named Imo, a nimble swordsman named Hendon, and a flamboyant minstrel named Borovius. Cinnamon was horribly ashamed that the moment the bandits broke down the door, she was under her cot quick as a flash, hiding, praying for her life. She had not fought or even moved with any kind of urgency in eight years, and now, the prospect of combat terrified her. But when she had crawled back out after the fighting stopped, she found two bodies staining the floorboards, and one of them was Wenda's. She surprised herself by beginning to sob at once, silent, but violent. She fell to her knees next to the woman who had cared for her all these years, taking her wrinkled hand in her own delicate ones. She had never been this openly emotional before, as Fred or as Cinnamon, but here she was, weeping with all her strength. The party was mourning their own loss, their fifth member, a young scout whose name had been Adora. She had taken a sword through the stomach, and had taken a few minutes to die, but die she did. Jessamine laid her hand on Cinnamon's shoulder and said sorrowfully, "I'm so sorry we brought this trouble into your home, Cinnamon. We'll do whatever you want to make it up to you. We shall get started at once cleaning things up, digging a grave for Wenda and building pyres for Adora and all these scoundrels." Cinnamon found herself crying yet harder, crumbling in on herself. True to Jessamine's word, they got to work making the hut look exactly as it had before. Within an hour Cinnamon was left alone inside with Wenda's body while they worked without. She had finally stopped crying, but now she felt hollow inside. What was she to do now? Could she go on in this empty house, knowing what had happened? Eight years had passed; perhaps it was safe to reenter the world now. Surely Prince Jasper couldn't be looking for her still. But reentering the world was daunting enough a prospect it almost set her to weeping again. She didn't remember how to live. She didn't know anything. By early the following morning, the industrious group had prepared everything for a funeral, and Cinnamon had cried herself dry. She watched, feeling hollow inside, as the adventurers lowered Wenda into the hole they had dug very near her garden, and began to cover her up. Cinnamon felt compelled to go help, and they let her, but in truth the job would have gone much faster without her "assistance." She was so morbidly weak, even lifting an empty shovel set her arms trembling. They lit the pyres, and stood back solemnly, watching the bodies burn. It took many hours, and during it they retired inside to rest. Cinnamon let them; they—now only she—had little they might want to steal anyway. And she went on a long walk in the hopes of clearing her head. When she returned, the fires were still going, and her head was still a mess on the inside. She went into the hut, and while most of the party was asleep on the floor, Imo was up, sharpening his knives. He looked up, and she didn't like the way he looked her up and down, clearly admiring her beauty, though at the same time she blushed deeply, very glad he did, because she worked hard daily for that beauty and no one had looked at her like this in eight years of effort. "Cinnamon," he said in greeting, and she nodded in response. He went on, "Feeling any better?" She shrugged noncommittally, and he said, "I understand. We were talking earlier, and if you'd like, you'd be more than welcome to come with us." She blinked in surprise, and took a seat as she waited for him to elaborate. Eventually he did: "Those bandits weren't the only ones. There have been alarming numbers of brigands in these woods of late, and now that... well, begging your pardon, but now that you're alone here, it wouldn't be safe to stay. We owe you a boon that can never be paid, but we could try by bringing you with us and finding you a safe place to live." Immediately tears were welling in her eyes again. A safe place to live? Without Wenda? Without knighthood? Without... anything? What could happiness even look like at this point? The best she could hope for was a quiet place to garden and plenty of time to be alone with her thoughts. Could she even hope they could find that for her? Imo came forward and slowly put his arms around her, and she melted into his embrace, desperately needing some kind of comfort. They stayed for another day, during which she packed up the few belongings she had, and then she left with them, as a matter of practicality. They treated her as if she were made of porcelain. All the men seemed in awe of her, while Jessamine kept a very close eye on her, and seemed almost as concerned and protective as they were. She was still trembling in the wake of recent events, but she found herself warming up to them. Just before they reached the nearest town after a day and a half of traveling, a development arose.
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7/17/2021 6:39:56 AM
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