A Halfling, A Dwarf, and an Old Proverb

There was more, but Anya didn't hear the rest. Blood had rushed to her head, the sound of her heart beat in her ears drowning out the halfling. They'd been here? Why? What were they doing coming back through Manot? Scratch that, why hadn't they come up to the cottage? Why hadn't they talked to her? A few moments must have passed, because she became aware of the halfling pulling at Anya's pants and looking up at her, the concern clear on her face.

"Are you okay, dear? You got so pale. Here, come inside, have something to eat."

Anya was led inside in what might be described as a daze, disoriented by even the slightest information of her parents and uncle. Just that morning, she had thought she'd simply deal with whatever came up. She was evidently incredibly wrong. She realized shortly later that she was in a stranger's house, and that stranger was now busying herself with a quick meal and something to drink for Anya.

"Oh, no, please, I don't want to bother you. I don't need anything from you, just information would be enough, please-" Anya stood up, rushing over to the halfling woman and trying to convince her to just stop for a moment. She couldn't deny that food would slightly ground her after the realization her family had passed through the village without coming to talk to her or Avery, but she didn't want to be troublesome to the woman. Her complaints were waved off dismissively by the halfling.

"Nonsense! Food makes everything better!" She continued bustling about the small, rather quaint kitchen, preparing food of some variety and a drink that was very clearly alcoholic, but the details of which eluded Anya.

Anya sighed to herself and sat down at the table that had been shortened to accommodate the halfling's height, mentally cursing herself for allowing someone to see how easily shaken she was. A few minutes later, the halfling had evidently given up on preparing food in such a short time, and placed a mug of, again, something clearly alcoholic, before hopping onto her own chair across from Anya and sipping at her own drink.

"Now, dear, tell me what's got you all flustered. Those strangers, wasn't it?" The halfling asked in between sips. Anya wasn't particularly surprised they were strangers to her; her parents shared her distaste for being in the village, and while Manot was small enough for most everyone to at least tangentially know eachother, you could manage to remain anonymous if you really tried. Anya, and her parents, had. Regardless, addressing them as strangers would be easier than explaining they ran out, no matter how common it was in Terin's domain. Anya nodded. The halfling woman pursed her lips slightly and shook her head. "Bad business, strangers coming through Manot. What would a girl like yourself have to do with them?"

"They're, uh... um... well... I think I might know them," Anya managed to say. She tried a sip of the drink in front of her to have anything to focus on besides how stilted she sounded. It was... pretty good.

"Bad business, that." The halfling said, shaking her head again, before starting slightly. "Not to imply that you yourself are part of any bad business, of course. We just don't get strangers often."

"Oh, um, its no problem. I was just wondering, did you know anything else about them, or...?"

"I can't say I do, dear. Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"No, its perfectly fine, you've definitely helped." Anya took another sip and realized that if she'd be walking around town all day, it might not be best to do it drunk. Being out of control was not a feeling she enjoyed. She pushed the mug a bit away from her, and froze. Would it be rude not to finish it? The halfling noticed and let out a slight laugh, before grabbing Anya's mug and pulling it over to her own side of the table. Anya let out a laugh of her own, before standing and getting ready to leave. "Thank you so much, for the information, and the drink... or the small drink I took of it, at least... um... Oh! I'm terribly sorry, I never asked for your name!"

"It's Lyra, dear. And yours?"

"Anya. Pleasure to meet you." Anya gave a slight curtsy, and immediately realized that 1), she was wearing breeches, and 2), a curtsy was not at all an appropriate action for the situation. She coughed, and turned away to start walking out, hoping the halfling would forgive the faux pas and also not notice the color rising in Anya's cheeks. The laughing that followed her out the door told her otherwise.

After the revelation that her parents, or at least a group that matched their vague description, had come through Manot and not at all interacted with her or Avery, left her feeling more than a little perturbed and wanting to speak to the primogenesis of this whole mess. An old, moonshining, perpetually drunk dwarf. With a few minutes of walking, she had reached Old Man Sern's cottage at the edge of the village. She could see him sitting on his porch, a bottle in hand. At least if she screwed something up in front of Sern, he'd have forgotten it by the next time she came down to Manot. She steeled herself and stepped up onto the porch. Sern, a four foot tall dwarf with wild gray hair, a mangy beard, and a vacant look in his eye, turned his head to see who had stepped into his domain. "Lassy! Come take a seat!" He seemed to light up, suddenly animated. He laughed to himself and patted a chair next to his own. "Only visitors I get are buyers, but you don't look the type! What can ol' Sern do for ya?"

Anya was a tad disoriented by the sudden shift, and suddenly found that "steeling herself" had not been nearly enough. Perhaps she should have mithriled herself. She shook her head, shooing off the errant thoughts, mithriled herself, and sat down next to Sern. "Well, I, uh... I heard you saw a group of three people traveling south through here not all that long ago. I think they might be someone I know, and... why are you looking at me like that?" She stopped, shaken. Sern had sat up, the vacancy in his gaze clearing as he stared intently at her. His bright blue eyes were both fully open, which was less common than one might expect. They were a surprisingly nice shade, Anya thought to herself. Suddenly he leaned back in his chair, slouching down again, and took a swig from the bottle he was holding.

"Althea and Parek's girl, huh?" Anya froze. "Must've been... oh, maybe a week since I last saw them. Feels like years..." He muttered to himself. He looked back over to her. "If you're looking for your family..." The cloudiness returned to him. "My people had a proverb..." He stared into the distance, as if he were rifling through his consciousness, trying to remember information that may not be there anymore. "What was it... oh! Right. My drinking buddies and I had a saying; blood's worthless. All it does it tie you to people who'll nag at you, and keep you from getting drunk. Imagine how life would be if you could get a blood alcohol level of one hundred percent... just remember that, lassy..." He returned to staring into the distance and occasionally drinking.

"Well... um, thank you. Sern. Um... I'll just be... going." She stumbled away as Sern blankly watched. She needed to be... anywhere. Anywhere not in Manot, essentially. The brief clarity Sern had gained was enough to tell her that her parents had, in fact, been through Manot, but it also told her that Sern recognized, and remembered, significantly more than she had thought. He had been here for centuries; of course he would've seen her family, potentially for generations, growing up. Despite there being nothing inherently malicious in that, it simply... unnerved her. But at least, now, she had two people confirming her parents and uncle passing through Manot. She started the walk back up to her and Avery's cabin, figuring he'd find her eventually. She needed to process some things.