Thoughts of Home
Delilah (Stubb spoof), Angus
Location: The Thorn and Shadow (Collinsel)
The crowing of a cock announces the arrival of morning, but one would not know it by looking at the squalid basement of this tavern. Stubb has barely stirred during the night. When he did stir, a whimper or nonsense syllable was all his battered faculties could muster the energy to produce. His body, bruised and thin almost beyond recognition, drapes across the two crates pushed together the night before. Staring into a book, Delilah sits on the floor nearby. Her back stands erect against the side of the makeshift bed, though her shoulders slope inward. She too, would seem to be sleeping if not for the occasional backward twitch of her head to glance up at the sleeping weasel.
Gentle thumps and scrapes resonate from the stairs; the noise of a descending beast, and likely a large one. Angus materializes in the doorway shortly after the creaky aria, bowing his head beneath its low frame. Wary of startling Delilah, on the off chance that she did not notice his approach, the dragon clears his throat, bashful hand glued to the back of his neck. Eyes flit to Stubb for a beat, scouring his emaciated form for any sign of improvement, before they skip back to the girl.
Delilah's gaze wafts up to the lizard. She smile and shuts the book, setting it aside so that she can stand. "Morning, 'Gus. Get much sleep?" Rising, she curls her fingers over the lip of the crates and settles her gentle weight on arms extended behind her. She looks sidelong at Stubb. "He certainly has. I almost envy him." Her lips part to reveal a row of straight but somewhat widely spaced teeth. The furrow of her brow rises in a sharp arch, lifting the curtains of her weary eyes to peer commerisation in the dragon's direction. "He gets to sleep while we worry ourselves to the bone."
Angus slips past the frame, but only a step, as the hand on his neck runs up the backside of his skull, and, eventually, over his angular face. It loiters at his eyes, rubbing at the remnants of sleep, before he hoarsely replies, "Aye. I gotta' bit." When the paw lowers, his sunken features divulge a different story, but the dragon smiles in spite of evident fatigue. "Think his nap was well earned, though, m'love." He tilts his head until it rests against the wall. "An' when he wakes up, it's our turn. Ye' ain't look like ye' caught much winks yerself."
The mustelid maiden shrugs and ignores the question. "I can't believe it's come to this..." Her paw runs unbidden to Stubb's shin, which she idly strokes as she speaks. "I... I hope he doesn't blame me. I didn't know. I couldn't have known..." She colors suddenly and, retracting her paw, looks sharply at Angus again. "Um. Yes." She giggles, an incongruous little explosion of sound that she covers with her arm. "Goodness, I'm suddenly quite hungry."
Angus's smile tightens as Delilah cuts her rumination short, and his chin elevates a notch. "Yes .." he repeats, perplexed by her queer outburst. His gaze then settles on Stubb, as if still mystified by the fellow's steadfast grip on life, despite such grievous injuries. "Hungry, aye." Prying himself from the wall, the dragon throws a glance up the stairs. "The foods here honestly ain't half bad." He flares a nostril, inhaling sharply. "We've picker worser places t'camp." The dragon loosens his simper, and extends his arm, palm up, to the stairs. "Care t'join me fer some grub then, m'love? M'sure Stubb kin watch 'imself fer a tick or two. Or we kin send down one of th' others."
Delilah sidles up and demurely accepts the arm, squeezing it gently between her petite hands. "You must tell me where you've been with Stubby. I only managed to find him by chance, really. And, well. Even the Keepers leave a trail, if you know where to look." A dark look whips across her features, but it's gone as soon as it came.
Angus begins to lead the Delilah up the narrow flight, mindful not to outpace her. "Oh, a lil' bit of everywhere at this point, m'love," is his answer, followed by a fond chuckle. He turns to catch her gaze, staring down the length of his arm, to where the slender maiden clutches. "Keepers?" The gape is disconnected, and the dragon is silent for several steps. "You've much t'tell me, as well, Miss Delilah." He presses to the pub above, but with a subtle spark of urgency.
"I suppose I do." Delilah holds the door open behind her as she steps from the cellar stairs into the common room. An old weasel is hunched over his ledger, his eyebrows, like thick gray gorse leaves, kneading at his forehead in consternation. He gives the pair a hurried look of vague annoyance, then returns to his work. Delilah pours herself into a seat at the bar.
Angus slinks in pursuit of the weasel woman, reaching the bar more or less when she does. He waits for Delilah to situate, then cautiously selects a stool, after a haphazard appraisal of its sturdiness. Dropping his rump to the ill-fit roost, posted on one side of the maiden, the dragon folds his hands on the counter. "Met 'im at an inn in south Mossflower." This disclosure is abrupt, but the monitor is willing to pander to her curiosity, if only to prime Delilah to reveal secrets of her own.
Delilah turns a blank expression upon the lizard. "Oh." She pauses. "Oh! Oh, yes. Pardon me, my mind..." Her paw draws a wave in the air. "Mossflower? Yes, he was headed there when I last saw him." A fond recollection tugs at the crook of her mouth. "And how did you wind up there?"
"Me? Eh. I was born there--or near there." He shifts on the stool, which squawks under his bulk, and cranes to catch the bartender's notice. For the keep, Angus brandishes a penitent but winning smile, then glances to Delilah. "Would ye' like a drink, m'love?" The dragon gestures to the myriad bottles behind the bar. "After a long night, s'never too early." Permitting the maiden a minute to decide, he continues with his story, "But it was a rough season. M'wife split, th' river came up an' flooded m'den. So I didn't have so much as a roof when I stumbled into yer Stubb." For now, the son saga is left out.
"Mm... No, I'd better not." Delilah grins. The bartender is still standing some distance away, cleaning. He looks almost offended that anyone should want service at such an early hour. "Ah," continues the young weasel. "I didn't know that lady lizards were so down on monogamy. Did you have any children?"
When the aggrieved barkeep ambles over, Angus requests a stiff drink, but, with a pang of modesty, also orders a small assortment of breakfast items--a sufficient amount to share, at least. "She was a bit of a .. er." He hooks a claw in his collar and tugs. "Well, in any case, aye. We've a son." The dragon's arm falls limp, and, finger still curled at its neckband, his shirt stretches horrendously. "He'll be safe fer now." Leaving it at that, the lizard hops to the next chapter: "Picked up th' ragtag crew y'met last night over the last couple of seasons. Had our ups and downs, fer sure. Scored some riches, fought some scoundrels, broke some hearts, ye' know how it goes." He grins a bit.
Delilah nods absentmindedly. "I wonder sometimes what it would have been like to have been born, er... Less well-off. Like. Like Stubb, or." She blushes and looks down at her paws, pressed digit to digit on the countertop. "I suppose Stubb's been leading you all on a wild chase?"
Angus tilts a brow at Delilah, but chooses not to pry. His mouth parts in a dopey grin, and the dragon flops against one arm and the counter. "Aye, wild's one way t'put it," he confirms. The dragon curls a hand around his recently delivered drink, ushering it closer to his person. He lowers his chin to the concoction, teasing it with his tongue, as eyes roll up to the weasel. "But he was real set on locatin' an', er, assemblin' th' whatchamacallit. Ain't like none of us had anything better t'do. Adventure's a bit intoxicatin'."
Delilah chuckles, "That was the idea. I didn't know he'd drag others into his scheme, though." She shakes her head. "He was building it for me, you know. It was just a lark, really." She props her head up on her hand and drums her fingers on her cheek. "It seems a long way off now, but we were in the chapel. We found that map. I'm sure you've seen it."
"I seen enough t'know that ole' Stubb ain't a total madbeast." The dragon folds both hands around his mug now. He gazes absently into the amber liquid, but a fragile smile plays his lips.
To be continued.
