Morningstar

[CH. 0027] - The Tear Lake

I tried being reasonable, I didn't like it. - Clint Eastwood

For the first time since her arrival, Nord didn't wake up to the comforting scent of freshly prepared breakfast. Instead, she walked into the kitchen to find Finnea and Kirara sitting at the table, staring forlornly at empty plates.

"Morning, you two," Nord greeted them with a lopsided smile.

Finnea looked at her plate as if willing to magically fill itself with food and said nothing. Kirara, on the other hand, had no qualms about expressing her thoughts.

"We're hungry, Mama! So hungry! Got any chicken?" Kirara piped up, her voice tinged with hope.

"I don't think there's any chicken left. How about eggs?" Nord suggested, scanning the kitchen cabinets.

Kirara scrunched her nose. "It's not chicken," she grumbled.

"What do you think, Finnea?" Nord turned to the usually stoic young woman.

"Anything is fine, Master," Finnea replied, her voice thin, betraying a hint of distress.

Nord reached for the frying pan, prepared to whip up some eggs when a sudden shout erupted from the salon. She gripped the panhandle tightly, a sharp sense of alarm darting through her. She locked eyes with Finnea and Kirara, their mutual concern unspoken but palpable.

Nord adjusted the flame beneath the pan, catching the eye of Finnea and Kirara. "Wait here, I need to see what that noise is," she said, her eyes narrowed with concern. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and left the cosy warmth of the kitchen.

Her boots softly pressed against the creaky wooden floor as she moved into the salon. It was an altogether different atmosphere that met her gaze: two men looking like they'd just stepped off the set of a Clint Eastwood movie. Grimy, unkempt, and a haze of booze and smoke seemed to cling to their clothes like an aura.

"Good Morning, Miss, we need a room," the shorter one blurted out, slapping a dusty bag onto the floor with a thud.

"Good Morning," Nord sighed, "Look, I'd love to help, but The Morningstar is closed for renovations. Can't you come back in a few days?"

The taller of the two men removed his hat, revealing sweat-streaked hair. "Lady, we've been trudging through the backwoods for two days straight. We stink, we're beaten, and we could really use a bed."

The other man chimed in, "Honestly, all we need is a shower and some shut-eye. We're too tired to be any trouble."

Nord hesitated, her hands nervously clasping and unclasping. "I'm not really the one who handles the inn stuff, and—"

"Listen, I'm Han," the shorter one cut in, "and this here is Leelo. Can't you make an exception?"

That's when Leelo removed his own hat, revealing two sharpened horns protruding from his forehead. "The reason we're staying away from the town is that they're not too friendly to Pucks like us," Han added, his voice tinged with desperation.

Nord paused, her eyes meeting Leelo's horned visage and then drifting to Han's imploring gaze. It was a dilemma, but one look at those horns, and she knew what it was like to not fit in.

Nord's eyes slowly travelled from their grizzled faces down to their waists. There, holstered and looming, were two guns. She suddenly felt the weight of their presence more acutely.

"We have a no-gun policy here," she said, almost surprised by the authority in her own voice.

Leelo leaned against the counter, a cocky half-smile stretching across his face. "Normally, I'd oblige, Miss. But there's a vampire wreaking havoc, and we're not going in unarmed." The aroma that drifted from him underlined just how much he needed that bath he'd mentioned.