Roads and Nails.

She stood, leaning against a now altogether familiar pillar, her gaze flitting between each patron. They themselves were stood in a state of perpetual revelry, one chosen and not naturally occurring. Some folk still bearing the sweat upon brow from swiftly vacating work, others continuing their ritualistic behaviour. She could see through this pretence and continued to watch on bemused. The inn door swung on its hinges and a rabble of no doubt ill-to-do men strode in, an air of altogether false masculinity wafted alongside them. Her attention drifted. Keiya’s gaze moved from the group to her ragged and torn nails, niggling and striving for attention. She began edging them around her teeth, clipping them in an attempt to make them once again smooth. She continued working on them occasionally, inspecting them in a satisfied manner as her thoughts drifted to and fro. Bree, she had told herself repeatedly, was now home. Though she would often drift around from the place, looking for work here and there. The man of the lake wishing a delivery to Western lands, she enjoyed it. She was able to see land, white and pure reaching for a rose tinted sky, wild birds calling over the wind and tall structures of carved stone, crafted by stout folk. She had edged around the lands of the Shire, seen the rolling green hills rambling on, the colourful folds of flowers clipping the horizon amongst the chattering and revelry of the townsfolk. She stayed clear, not wishing to disturb, but yet she marvelled. Another errand sent her gradually northward. Only a fraction of a path she did not wish to tread again... but yet she did. Angered and annoyed by it, yet it paid silver well enough. The crowd of the Pony sparked in laughter and noise, the clanking of tankards and cheers; her thoughts however, stayed where they were; to that errand, to things further in the depths of her mind and to recent conversations. That same road seemed to be calling to one she called friend. Tempting them to walk it. On arrival to this town she had met the lad, quizzical, questioning but he found her shelter, food and more importantly someone she could trust amongst blank and unknown faces. She lingered here, her mind turning it over and over. The biting of her nails became ever more vicious as her gaze flitted from one patron to the other. But, she was not watching. Her thoughts were consuming her and roiling viciously, masking her vision. The nails tore and the skin bled, but mind was resolute and she continued; her face wrought with a deeply angered frown. If she had not come here, perhaps things, people and so forth would stay in their rightful places. Of all coincidences. She will carry this blame and burden on her back, despite it making little or no sense. It was simply coincidence. It wasn’t reliant on her coming and going, for she spoke little of heritage, past and journeys. She spat shards of nail onto a dusted area of the steps. Part of her felt she should follow, watch on for their safety, at least for some of the way... No. No. Can’t be done. Mind is not strong enough. Fall apart. She thought of the fair haired girl, Eoryn, riversides and fishing. Safe, home. Boo shouldn’t go. Won’t listen. Stubborn? Pieces don’t fit, don’t understand, doesn’t make sense. Her anger rose. Forgetting to blink, the tears welled up, ready to loosen themselves from their keepers. Sub-consciously she had lifted herself from the pillar, her arms dropped to her sides, fists balled. Her posture resolute and firm. “You alright their lass?” A woman spoke from the bottom stair. Again Keiya was thankful of her cowl, masking the small streams running down her cheeks. “Yes. Kept in thought. I am in the way?” “No, no lass, I was just making sure.” The woman headed off again and Keiya, now awakened from the clutches of emotion and thought, rushed down the stairs and escaped the inn. The air cold, sky dark and the Pony still making its welcoming noise with the glow from the windows making its patterns upon the cobbled streets. Keiya whistled and walked to a nearby shadow, a small pup sat up from its curled, sleeping position and whimpered. She untied a braid of leather from a small metal loop embedded in the wall of the inn and ruffled the matted fur of the mutt. “Evyn, we go.”