The quaint proposal.

[Yurrechire]

Thunderstorm hit the city, gales of wind buffeting against the protective walls in futility even as the creeping fingers of lightning played leap-frog among the rooftops. The tower, a grand master of magic, stood in a bubble of foreboding, fey silence. Past this monolith with its weather-wards, and into the soaked streets, stumbled a large, carnivorous bird. On its back sat a familiar hunched figure in sodden brown robes, occasionally croaking words of direction to the weary avian.

Left. Right. Another left. Down the streets, away from the prosperous city center and into the seedy district, filled with nooks and crannies overlooked by the men of common sense. To a small, shabby inn with its peeling paint and non-existent stable boys.

“A long day, Cookie,” Muttered the figure, dismounting under the leaking lean-to intended for the theoretical birds, and pointedly ignoring the glare of the thuggish watchman on duty. The bird, of course, did not respond.

“You missed a very much adult man in a very stupid looking hat, offering up treasure to total strangers. He did have a most intriguing sword, however,” Continued the figure, a woman, while ducking under the keel of the peco in order to unbuckle the saddle, “… That was shortly after I met with the other one. You know. Potential employment opportunity.”

The peco snapped above the woman’s head in a show of annoyance. “Yes, yes, you’re right, of course.. It was a waste of time. Some swashbuckling lark, wanting to crawl into the Tower’s depths for some guild assignment. Something about little black devils. The zeny he’d offered should help us last into the next year, which is the only reason why I signed onto this mess. … And the kid seems of a good enough sort. That’s something, right?”

Forcefully dragging off the bulky seat off the bird’s back, McWren narrowly avoided tripping over the straps, just as the bird dove beak-first into the trough of kitchen scraps, left out just for that purpose. The woman stepped clear, looking back to the preoccupied mount with a mixture of love and exasperation. It was unlikely that the bird could be stirred from its meal and shelter for the remainder of the night, but Cat still had a rather contrary priestess to find, and to harangue. They would leave for the cellars of the Tower in the morning, with or without medical support.