and there's a glass on the table, they say it's gonna ease all my pain

[lettersfromhome]

WHO: Mia Rutherford and OPEN
WHAT: She spends a lot of time taking care of everyone else. She needs a drink or five to unwind before getting back to it.
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Herald's Rest
NOTES: Alcohol? Bad decisions?

She's not proud of herself for this. But there are breaking points, and she's nearing one, and it's better to deal with them pre-emptively than not, and have a fuss be made later. There are things that are completely out of her control, Maker knows, and she needs to make her peace with them.

Wine helps. So does the ambiance of the tavern, even if she sits alone. There's a homesickness that claws at her, though she refuses to let it take root too deeply. There's work to be done here, after all--

No. No work tonight. Just...relax. Listen to the music and the noise and the banter and try to let it go.

Easier said than done, but she'll muddle through it. Stubbornness is a Rutherford family trait, apparently.

Comments

[ombranera]

Now here is a new face. A somber face on a lovely woman will not do as far as Zevran's mind goes. He finishes the cheerful refrain of the last song before passing his lute off to the next musician, sidling up next to her with a curve of a smile. "Why so sad, mia bella? Is there some ruffian that should be accosted for leaving you quite so glum?"

[lettersfromhome]

Oh, Maker preserve her.

For a moment she just gives the elf an incredulous look before shaking her head, taking another deep drink from her glass. "I'm quite capable of defending my own honor," she replies at last, her gaze focusing elsewhere in the hopes that he gets the message. "If you're looking for a damsel in distress, I suggest looking elsewhere."

[ombranera]

"But of course you are, no one so fine, so stern could be in need of outside intervention." He lounges against the bar, not at all deterred by her disregard. "Perhaps I simply find you stressed and wish to assist you in relieving it."

[lettersfromhome]

"Of course you did. So altruistic you must be."

She refuses to look back at him, to give him even that much satisfaction. She'll be fine, left to her own devices. She always has been. And she certainly doesn't need some flirtatious Antivan trying to rescue her from her troubles.

Not unless he wishes to relieve the headache already starting to build and take his leave.

[ombranera]

"I live to serve, bella. Perhaps a song might help you smile? Something of home- I know quite a few Fereldan tunes." That can do wonders for someone that is homesick- and everyone is at least a little homesick. Skyhold is far from home for most, even those that are not from other worlds. Compared to the mountain and the chill Antiva feels so terribly distant. Fereldan weather this may be; but it lacks the charm of the lowlands.

[serannas]

Ellana knows the sight of someone in low spirits, as she's been the same way recently herself. Tucking herself into the back corner of the tavern and nursing a drink didn't seem to help either, but talking to a friend did. Unfortunately, she doesn't know this woman, and it would probably do no good to offer her an ear if she needs one.

Yet it's difficult to just leave the woman be. So Ellana comes over, her drink in her hand, to stand beside the stranger.

"It's a lovely song she's playing, isn't it?"

[lettersfromhome]

"It is."

She remembers the attempt at lute lessons when she was younger. How futile the effort had been. But she still enjoyed the sound of the instrument in more capable hands, and a quiet smile tugged into place in spite of herself.

"I'm afraid I don't know the words, but the tune is lovely."

[serannas]

"Yes, I've found you can replace the foreign words with your own in your mind. This one is slow and soulful, so I imagine it's about lost love. And now I don't want to know what the actual words are, in case the song is completely different."

Ellana pauses to lean against the wooden pillar beside the table.

"I'm Ellana."

[lettersfromhome]

"Lost love."

The corners of Mia's mouth flicker upwards for a moment, before she shakes her head. "Who on Earth would want to remember that?" Another measured sip was taken from her glass before she turned more completely, offering the elf girl a warm smile.

"Mia. I's a pleasure. Would you care to sit?"

[justice_is_blond]

He's still new, still a little wary about spending too much time in public places, but seeing someone sitting and drinking by themselves speaks to him just a little. Maybe she's alone by choice. If so, she'll no doubt tell him. Otherwise, she could perhaps use the company as he could.

Anders comes over with a mug of ale and nods at the chair next to her.

"May I join you? I promise I won't try to sing."

[lettersfromhome]

A few drinks earlier and she might have said no. But perhaps she's more lonely than she first realized, or would ever admit to. Just having someone sitting there sharing a drink in companionable silence might be better than nothing at all.

There's a wry smile and she gestures freely to the seat. "The bard isn't terrible. I'm afraid I don't know half of the songs she sings," she admits, fingers trailing along the outside of her glass.

"I suppose being well-traveled must help."

[justice_is_blond]

He gives her a small smile as he takes the seat, glancing over at the bard.

"I'd call myself well-traveled, but I'd not say I recognize most of what she's singing either. They're a little... cleaner... than what I'm accustomed to. Then again, so is the whole of this tavern."

The Hanged Man was known for being, well, "feelthy," as some people said. The Pearl hadn't really been that much better, nor had just about anywhere he'd spent a lot of time. Being an apostate didn't mean much coin, plus Templars tended to stick to the nicer places.

"I have to say, I like clean cups. You?"

[lettersfromhome]

A light chuckle leaves her, almost without effort. "Oh, I'm far from disappointed," she murmurs. "But then I'm not well-versed in taverns, either. If they'd tried to serve me from a dirty glass, I might have gone back there and shown them how to properly clean them, myself."

Clearly it would have been some fault in their upbringing, something she'd be all too glad to correct. Perhaps she's too eager to try to solve other people's problems for them, she reflects. But leaving people to their struggles isn't something she's very good at.

Many hours later ...

[the_effect_she_has]

It's well into the early part of the morning, when Katniss comes into the tavern. She's just cleaned off the mud from the road, she's tired as the Maker's Balls but she's starving and she doesn't want to wake the kitchen staff.

Dark circles under her eyes, and her walk is less smooth than it usually is, but she manages a smile for those who call out to her drunkenly before she moves towards the bar itself.

And finds, to her great surprise, Mia.

"... I thought we weren't resorting to drink just yet." She stated with a wry smile, as she gestured to the barkeep, and dropped herself down next to the older woman.

[lettersfromhome]

"I'm aware." Mia's fingers pressed against the bridge of her nose with a heavy sigh. "A temporary lapse. Allow me that. It's...been a very trying day."

She's not drunk, not yet, but she's certainly been drinking. It's obvious from the faint slur in her words, a softness to those usually clipped tones.

[the_effect_she_has]

"Yes, I figured that. Typically I would have heard more, 'Oh Katniss, you're home!' joy there." Katniss pulled up one leg, ordering a whole chicken and some bread and cheese and fruit.

"What's happened?" She eyed Mia, at that slur, "It must have been bad."

[lettersfromhome]

And at that she hesitates. It does not good to propagate the rumor, damning as it is. It's not as though she doesn't trust Katniss. She absolutely does, but...

Think of how the girl's heart would be broken. She'd always been so transparent in her feelings about Cullen. How much easier all of this would have been. Mia's expression turns a little crestfallen before she reaches for Katniss's hand, patting it gently.

"Disappointing, I'd say. More than anything else."

[foxsays]

As per usual, no one seems to notice that she comes from downstairs via the battlements, and that one railing she tends to jump over to avoid the stairs, rather than the front door. It gives a better view after all rather than barging in through the door and letting the cold in.

She's listening to the bard singing away, letting her eyes linger where they will when she spots Mia, smiles, and slips past a serving girl pausing long enough to place her order before she takes a seat next to the older woman, taking in the posture quickly before she says anything.

"A rough day at the office, señora?"

[lettersfromhome]

"One could say that."

She lets out a noise that's half-disgust, half-weariness, shaking her head before placing it in her hands. "It's been a long day," she adds at last. "And they will be longer still for some time now."

Sleep had been a laughable concept before. Now, fretting would keep her awake longer than she would have cared to admit to.

[foxsays]

Frowning, she dares to carefully set a hand on Mia's shoulder, because this isn't home where you can usually be as tactile as you please even with near strangers.

"Such are the burdens when one cares about the work that they do," she murmurs carefully, a touch guilty to be relieved that she doesn't have to shoulder any heavy burdens here. "Is there anything I can do to help? Both my ears are here to listen to whatever troubles you have, do they say a trouble shared is a trouble halved here?"

[lettersfromhome]

Rather than stiffen under the touch, Mia appears to relax a few degrees, reaching up to pat the girl's hand where it rests against her shoulder. Maker bless her sympathetic heart.

"Alas. I fear sharing the news would only increase the trouble. It's just that sort of trouble," she remarks with a faint huff, and a look that says she's very weary of thinking about any of it at all. "Loose lips and wagging tongues may have well put someone I care about in harm's way, and it seems there's little I can do about it. That never sat well with me."

After conversing with Cullen

[mythalenaste]

Some people she asked said Mia went in here. Pel hurries, hoping to catch Mia before she descends too far into despair at the hands of a completely imaginary disaster.

She reaches out to touch Mia's forearm when she spies her.

"Come with me. We need to talk privately." She sounds coolly professional now, a contrast with her earlier demure affectation.

[lettersfromhome]

It's much the same aloof behavior she'd displayed earlier, though avoidance was apparently no longer her aim. Hard to say what she wants, then. It was fairly clear from earlier discussions that whatever was afoot, she didn't consider Mia necessary.

Still, whatever she did want must be important.

Mouth thinning, Mia pushes to her feet, leaving her wine glass behind. "Lead on," she replies primly.

Thankfully, she isn't drunk. A little warm, but walking ought not be an issue.

[mythalenaste]

She'd been trying to seem demure, anyway.

She leads Mia to the room she shares with Krem over the tavern. Krem isn't around, so Pel lights a few candles and offers Mia a seat on the bed.

"I'm not sleeping with Cullen. I'm helping him with the headaches he gets from not taking lyrium. I couldn't say it on the wall and I wasn't sure if you knew what he was doing."

There. Misunderstanding straightened out, no hard feelings?

[lettersfromhome]

Mia stands, rather than sits. Whatever is coming, she can take it. It could be any number of things, she reasons. They've found out. She has news from Cullen. Something's gone awry or she has questions. Mia may not like what's happening, but if this girl and Cullen care for one another, she'll help them as best she can.

What Pel actually says hadn't even been a consideration. Perhaps that was a mistake on her part. She's the fool now, isn't she? Taking someone's word at face-value. Mia says nothing at first. It's not true. None of it. Some small measure of relief settles there, but it doesn't last long.

Well, the girl's blunt. She has that in her favor. If nothing else.

Finally her jaw works stiffly, eyes a little harder. "...I see."