Jessabelle Twignut pursed her lips in thought as she watched her triplet sister spin around the common room without so much as a care in the world. Idiot girl. She thought, This ain' a place t'go 'round dancin' like a loon with a frog on yer 'ead. She sighed and glanced sideways at the man she had been having a conversation with. Alnion simply looked at Eony, looking almost amazed at her sister's enthusiasm. She didn't quite know how to approach him, as he had seemed just as eccentric as Eony was.
Her gaze idly swept across the room in boredom, for once not feeling the need to busy herself with her sister's silly antics. Before her stood a colourful assortment of patrons, the likes of which she had never seen before - a mangled, mutilated shape that Jessabelle for a split second mistook as a corpse rotting next to the pillar (She had the feeling that she might even smell the stench if she went any closer), an unusual-looking man dressed in vibrant silks and rich garb (She was surprised at the fact that it had not yet been stolen), and a woman sat atop of a barrel and clutching a shovel (Had anyone died recently?). Her gaze focused on the hideous form skulking by the column; Interest gnawed at her as she noticed the woman jealously eyeing her sister, muttering to herself and appearing sad. Her right leg had been disfigured beyond recovery.
Jesabelle walked up to the her.
"'ello miss, yer lookin' sad!" She began in a pleasant voice. The woman looked up and Jesabelle found herself feeling vaguely disgusted. The face she was granted sight was terrible to behold - marred with numerous scars, one eye alert and glaring at her, the other filled with a sickly green pus. Nonetheless, she conjured up her most convincing smile to greet the woman, who merely scowled.
"Eh? What's my mood to you?"
"I dunno." Jessie shrugged, "Bu' ye looked sad. Mos' folks 'oo come here tend t'be happy. Or they keep skulkin' 'round in corners."
The other woman turned to look at one of the dark corners in the common room. Jesabelle said nothing, waiting for the woman to speak.
"I don't like enclosed spaces." She said, turning back to Jesabelle.
"'Course, else you wouldn' be 'angin' by a pillar now, would ya?" Jesabelle replied. She noticed a shift in the "woman"'s responsiveness - her expression grew sad, pathetically so, and she cast her remaining eye on the floor.
I don't like enclosed spaces.
Jesabelle rolled her eyes as the woman glanced down. Why're you spendin' yer time in a tavern tha's sure t'be packed? She thought scathingly. People and their softness, their so-called vulnerability...
Jesabelle could only remember vague bits from the ensuing conversation. Something about loving her sister, whose energy and enthusiasm caused the "woman" - named Gweyna, as she came to know her - to feel envious. Gweya insisted that Jesabelle look after Eony well, to which Jesabelle replied that Gweya did not know of the things she had gone through to keep the stupid girl safe. By the end of the chat, Eony was already gone, and Jesabelle, boredom gripping at her once more, decided to leave to give chase after the idiot, keeping the image of the mutilated "woman" fresh in her mind as a petty reminder of how fortunate and superior felt she was.
She didn't regret it.
