action
noun
plural noun: actions
1:the fact or process of doing something, typically to achieve an aim.
2:a thing done; an act.
"she frequently questioned his actions"
3:take action on; deal with.
"your request will be actioned"
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Many days had passed since she crossed the threshold into her home, greeted by a dozen and one who all fell silent at her arrival. The lavender oils and dried bouquets struggled to overpower the scent of old leather, horse and sweat that emanated from her new found company. The long table, once laden with the necessities of hosting extravagant meals, ,was now a home to maps and tankards of half drunk ale, plates of torn meat from the bone, a pair of gloves and crumbs. At its head a man, shorter in stature than most of the others around him, yet the only one that dared speak.
"Took your bloody time getting back! Sit your arse down, there's work to do!"
The guard that accompanied her went off to a corner, though she was the one to sit, moving a cushion aside before taking comfort by the hearth.
"I had to be convincing, I could not just poke my head through the door with a hello and disappear again! Besides, I am making allies, friends, connections. I thought you would approve."
Her father gave her a stern look and as he was about to refute her words, the door opened once more. Chorleigh was one of her favourites, a large and ultimately soft hearted man, though rather unattractive. His body had seen years of hard labour. His hands could encircle the throat of another with no difficulty. He liked poetry. Though there was nothing sweet regarding his current task, for his gloves bore a dark hue at the knuckles which seeped into the leather. He closed the door behind him, not bothering to look over at the crowd as he spoke.
"Took a while to get 'em squealin'. Been holed up in a cave up North, few groups of 'em. 'im though? Still workin' on that. One of 'em needs t'wake up first, went a bit 'ard on 'im"
In the end though, he did look at her father, who was already pulling a map closer, holding down the edges with whatever was heavy enough to stop it from curling, an urgency in the older mans command.
"Show me"
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Days passed where rebuilding was discussed and acted upon, nights filled with talk of retribution, fueled by the ample consumption of drink. Adrians fate, when it met him, would be a sorry one, for if his hands were not removed, his guts would be used to decorate her fathers parlor, or his skull broke into a thousand pieces. Curses far more suited to witches, were thrown about in conversation as if they were common place. It was often upon deaf ears, but she spoke of her time in the town, of those she had befriended, of the decantery and its patrons. One late eve she also cautiously spoke of Artanion. This, sadly, was a mistake..
"Where were he eh?! Where's he now! Told y'! Can't bloody trust any of 'em!"
"He had business, you of all people should understand the importance of it. It has taken him far and you would have disapproved of my joining him, wouldn't you?"
He gave her an incredulous look
"Business? Y'got y'mothers looks but aint got my brain! Buggered off he has! Told y'!"
She rolled her eyes and rested her raven locks against the hard backed chair. It took a moment of calm before she could respond.
"He was gone before this whole sorry business. I am not one to keep him as a pet, or insist he be at my side constantly, tis not our way. I imagine he will be equally as horrified to learn of recent events, but there is nothing to be done and no more to be said, at least until his return."
Her father snorted, no more words were said as he looked at his daughter, he did not need them, for she knew what he was thinking.
"He will return father. Has he ever given you reason not to trust his word?"
It was then a pang of guilt struck her, for there were things she had kept unsaid from her father. Arti was more than a friend. They had become as close as any could be, yet Arti had professed to her father that this would never happen. It was inevitable. Her father continued to stare to the point in which he got to his feet, abandoning the chair opposite her. Walking over, he kissed the crown of her head and in turn, she closed her eyes. With a squeeze to her shoulder, he then left the room, leaving her to draw up a heavy knitted blanket over her tucked under legs, her only company the crackling of the hearth and her thoughts of the one she needed most.
