Sugar Hollow

Xin followed Sione through the village before they finally arrived at the center of the plaza – the scent of the bakery filled the air sweet pastries and other baked goods it was rather tempting to stop there first after their journey on the road though he stuck to his original plan and made his way towards the Inn, or the building that most closely resembled one. That single silver orb slowly scanning his surroundings, noting the smiles on the faces of those as they passed and occasionally glimpsing the awkward stare. A single hand rose to return the wave. “The people here are certainly friendly.” He commented idly, soon enough they had arrived at the Inn, taking the opportunity to look at décor of the commons area while Sione saw to their room.

The room was much nicer than Osma gave it credit for. When she returned downstairs, freshly washed up and dressed so not to overwhelm the locals, she found herself more relaxed than she had anticipated. 

Hot water did wonders for a gals tense muscles!

She smiled politely as she waited at the side of the stairs for a mother and a child to pass up with the innkeep. "Faucet is leaky in number four. I do not want to have to listen to it drip all night." She commented as they passed. With a flourish of hair flicking at the base of the stairs, she walked into the common room where the smell of soup and pies guided her.

Her stomach growled. No, not growled, for a lady's stomach did not do such a thing. It sung. Her stomach sung out in hunger. She stood in wait for someone to ask her where she wanted her place set up for her. 

Silently the boy looked over the common area while Sione dealt with the inn-keeper; noting the silence which resulted from their arrival were they really that strange looking? Chin dipped slightly towards the side causing lengths of silver hair to slant across the porcelain surface of the mask—though his gaze did not linger when the Inn-keeper had approached him to lightly muss those silver locks. “Hey!” he gave protest , features contorting slightly as he lifted his own hands attempting to deflect the man, yet the expression upon the mask remained that of apathy painted lips expressionless on a black and white canvas. His hair remained unchanged despite the male’s efforts to dishevel it and his own to comb it back in place as if having a mind of its own. That single orb narrowed slightly as he stared up at the inn-keeper.

He followed the man up the stairs, keeping Sione between them until they were shown the first room. Two beds While she did not require sleep he wondered if she would find the bed more comfortable than the bed but before they could agree to the terms the Wraith had suggested the use of a smaller room even if coin did not seem to much of issue there was little sense in wasting it. So, he turned his gaze towards the male once more.

”If the other has a bath as well then we will take that.” Not expecting the other rooms to have been occupied. When a Proper Lady emerged from one of the rooms only a few doors down .

”I think I should like to take a bath once we return from a few errands. Is there a blacksmith around here?” He asked the Inn-Keeper, Xin did not recall seeing one when they had arrived at village. Though they had horses and horses required shoes and there was always a need of small tools.

The innkeeper glared at Osma as she passed. Such a picky woman! Turning back to @sione and Xin, he smiled, nodding to their odd request. The woman didn't sleep? How odd.

"Of course, I've got single rooms right here. I'm sure you'll fit in them just as well, as long as you don't mind the single bed."

He led them to room number 2, a small single-occupancy room. It was smaller than the double, but still seemed comfortable enough. The bed wasn't exactly large, but it seemed soft enough and would certainly be big enough for little Xin. A carpet with a red and green pattern laid on the floor.

"Here you go, then. Four silver pieces per night. And we do have a blacksmith, his shop is down the road. Head past Marzi's tavern and turn left."

Osma's brow perked as a little boy came over. How cute, so long as his sticky hands didn't try to touch her. She clasped her hands together, placed them by her knees and bent at the hips to smile down at him.

She [is] a fancy lady. Such a smart lad for noticing. She was not, however, the fanciest lady.

Osma's smile fell. She slowly stood back up and turned her eyes to look at the state of her nails. Down her nose, she glanced at the boy. "Aozora." Where did you spawn from? "Do you know if people sit themselves here, little boy?"

This child was leaking.

Her nose curled and she stook a step away from him. For a healer, she sure was grossed out by mucus.
"Yes. I can smell the pies." She was NOT eating carbs. She glanced around and then moved to step around kid, but he kept talking about PIES.

Sweet, delicious, flaky crust pies.

"Well if you want one so BAD why don't you just go and get it!"She snapped, hands on her hips, bell sleeves hanging down.

The leaking child turned into the sniffing, screaming, crying child. What was wrong with it? Osma gathered her skirt and took a step back as if afraid whatever was ailing him was caughting. "Shhhh? What are you doing? I demand you stop that wailing." Her shoulder rose to protect ears they could not reach.

The only competent person in the room was an old man who smelled like dirt and carrots. He took the offensive, defective spawn away. "Thank you sir. Some people do not discipline...."

That's when the voices started. The looks of blame. HUMPH. With her chin held high, she wafted across the room like the regal (pain in the ass) she was.

She ignored the common tongues as they waged and in fact, seemed to glow on their account. Attention was attention after all. She inspected a chair and found it lacking. She looked to a bar stool and found it wanting. Finally, she settled in a booth, elegantly moving her skirts and settling in. Fantastically beautiful.

Where was a menu?

Roasted duck or a nice thick, juicy steak. Maybe a sauted peacock!

Osma's stomach growled again. She placed her hand upon it and smiled politely. The flutter of blue wings made her flinch as it passed her over her shoulder. She stared, owl eyed at the tiny thing chirping on her table.

Now a bird she could admire. Her smile softened and for just a moment the corner of her eyes creased with age. She looked, actually, genuine. Her eyes scanned the bird, and she pondered what thoughts it had. I've nothing to feed you with, pretty.

It was rather pretty wasn't it? It reminded her of her birds back home, stuck in their cages. Nothing but their feathers and their song to call them any mind. How they might sit on a finger and eat from a palm with their clipped wings. People staring in at them, waiting for them to screw up or get married before their looks faded .

She had opened the cage doors for them when she escape Gaiman. A kind gesture, although a feeble one since they could only hop around to try to escape the castle cats after she left.

Her face changed and a mask of distaste moved across it. "Shoo. Off with you."

The little bird preened itself, then looked back up at Osma Gaiman and chirped. It certainly was a pretty little bird, with colorful feathers and big black eyes. Despite any protest Osma might have, it hopped up on her shoulder and chirped in her ear. Then, in a remarkably un-birdlike voice, it began to speak.

"Hello there, ma'am. You don't seem to fit in here, do you. You're not like the other visitors we've had recently? Why don't you come down to my place, and we can have a nice chat. The bird will show you the way. Come along, don't be shy. I have tea."

If Osma had closed her eyes, she might have thought that an old woman was speaking quietly in her ear. Message delivered, the bird chirped again and hopped off Osma's shoulder. It fluttered out to the doorway of the inn and stopped, looking back at her. Clearly, it wanted her to follow.