Prickly thorns, tender roses

New faces, Old grudges

A weary Ravenna peered beyond the heavy wooden gates, hoping someone was awake on the other side. With great relief, she thanked whoever ruled the world when she saw the light of a faraway torch burning in the yet darkened morning. She was about to knock again when a bell began its chiming chant, in reckoning of the first hour of the day. If nothing else, this was proof she had indeed stumbled upon a settlement, but it was one Ravenna hadn't passed through on her way thither. After the bell died, her knuckles struck the wooden gate anew.

"All right, all right," a disgruntled, aged voice began from the other side. "Got a bad leg, y'know," the voice went on, and the trapdoor opened level with the woman's face. Suspicious old eyes were boring into hers. "Your name and your business," the watchman demanded.

"I am called Ravenna," she tried her steadiest voice, though it came harsh with disuse. "I am a traveler, weary and in search of lodgings."

The distrustful air held, and the trapdoor was closed. A moment later, the gate opened either way, as was the custom in some areas once daybreak hit.

"Traveling alone are ye?" The raggedy old man placed his hands on his hips, shamelessly eyeing her as Ravenna strode past. "And a woman to boot ... I'd watch meself if I were you..." the watchman added, but the end of his sentence was lost on Ravenna, now too preoccupied with taking in the unfamiliar sights. It was a rather large settlement, not quite a town, but far from a hamlet. Wood and thicket houses lined the uncobbled streets, and tall wooden gates spread unevenly delimited different homesteads from one another. Folk were already up and about, most garbed in thick linens and furs, as was the local custom. There was a bustle of men and women of various ages heading in different directions to pursue the labors of the day.

"Pardon me," Ravenna swiftly asked one passing woman. "What is this place called?"

"Why ye find yerself in Bran, youngling," the woman replied hastily, rushing off before Ravenna could ask whether she could expect to find lodging of any kind.

Bran. She had no notion of this place. Sleeping under the naked sky was not something she shied away from, and Ravenna had little doubt she'd resort to such again along her journey. But for now, well, now she needed a good long rest and a warm meal. And a batch of new memories, if possible.

She ambled along the main street, searching for anything which may have constituted an inn. Mud and dirt clung to her boots and the hem of her cloak, gathered along the wet road drenched in nightly rains. Ravenna sighed, shouldering the satchel containing her belongings.

Morning, midday, and afternoon passed with minor commotion and no success in finding a place to stay. And Ravenna felt all the more despondent, though the reason had little to do with her uncertain options for the night. She was empty and a little lost, in more ways than one. Something was missing, and it was not unlike an invisible string puppeteering her thoughts; they ever returned to him.

She wanted to forget, but that would take time. She wanted his callous words to stop striking dents into her mind. What caused the most distress was his merciless distrust, how it had slammed against her, and during moments Ravenna could not erase from her mind however much she tried.

She regarded the bleak day, strewn with impending grey clouds looming in the distance. Ravenna wondered whether he was well, whether he was at all regretful for how it all spiralled down between them. After all, he did have a human side, supposedly. Ravenna may have taken a wrong step herself, and as time wore on, the stronger this conviction became. But her head had been full of both wine and him and a ruthless desire she could not rein. No use regretting it now.