#autumnbound

Feeling pleased with the resulting slam as if it expressed her feelings properly just then, she made her way over to her workbench and stood on the tips of her toes, attempting to reach a bottle of whiskey she had seen Apolerius tuck onto the shelf months ago. Her fingers scraped along the edge of the shelf, but she was simply unable to reach the bottle. Cursing, she carefully dragged a stool across the stone floor, pushing it as close to the workbench as she possibly could without pushing it under. With the ease of someone who had been a bit too short to reach the high shelves forever, braced one booted foot on the foot rests of the stool, and then onto the stool itself, one hand gripping the shelf and the other hand fetching her prize.

"Fel fucking confusing elves." She cursed as she  stepped back down and settled onto the stool before the bench to enjoy her prize. It seemed however, no matter how much she tugged on the cork of the bottle it did not seem to want to give. Dravinna impatiently tugged off one glove and then the other with her teeth, tossing them onto a nearby chair and tried her luck again this time with her bare hands. Still, the cork refused to budge.

She swore, and fumbled around on her work bench. She had a gnomish pocket knife, just where? Even after lifting stacks of research papers, and brushing off the scraps of thread and leather, it was nowhere to be found. But she did find a surprisingly clean tea cup under all of that.

"Good enough." She announced to no one in particular. Dravinna needed a drink, after the day before and tonight's romantic confessions, there was no way she was going to sleep without at least one.  Her hand seized the bottle just below the neck, and swung it against the edge of the desk. The glass shattered just above her hand, the stubborn cork falling to the ground.  

Dravinna stared at the tiny tea cup and the rather big bottle of whiskey. I will have to finish this, she told herself, pouring herself a cup. No sense in letting good drinks go to waste. With the same sort of reckless abandon she applied to fighting, the woman worked her way through the bottle, filling and refilling the tiny cup every few minutes. Soon, most of the bottle had been consumed, and she was supporting her head with one hand has she worked on her self appointed task. 

After mentally taking stock of the idea that she was still clothed, and likely given the gloved hand he was still clothed so likely he had just slept there, Dravinna cracked one eye to look at the slumbering Kaldorei beside of her. His pale blue hair was splayed around him, only a small bit of it still in the tie he normally wore to keep it back. While watching him sleep next to her details of the previous day slowly came back to her. Waves of guilt and anxiety hit Dravinna as she remembered how easily she tore his fur and flesh. Still, Bram looked significantly less anxious this way, curled around the pillow as if it were a lover. Though anything was an improvement from their abuse of one another, both physical and emotional, from the night before.

She sat up, pulling her hand away from his to peer closely at his armor now that the sun was streaming in through stained glass window above her bed. It was strange to think that a mere handful of weeks ago, she was convinced that this man had perished along with the Park years ago. Now they wore in the same unit and fighting together once more. Or they would be soon. Unlike others, she had unwavering confidence in this. Still, with his sudden reappearance in her life her mind sometimes had to work extra hard to remind herself that he was alive, even when he was in her line of sight. That was not to say that they were not able to slip back into familiar habits, the previous night non-withstanding, habits could only do so little to make the entire experience less jarring.

Her eyes searched for signs of her distracted repairs she preformed the night before. Cautiously, she leaned closer and closer to inspect the tiny stitches in the shoulders of the leather tunic, when the long bronze chain around her neck slipped from the inside of her robe. The chain, now not only bearing the weight of her pendant but also the polished moonstone ring he had given her the night before, spilled onto his shoulder. The heavy ring connected solidly where there had been torn flesh and leather the day before, instantly producing a curse of discomfort from Bram. Dravinna cringed, another wave of guilt flooding through her. Though she attempted to recoil back to her side of the bed, the druid was faster. His now free arm quickly snaked around her shoulders and pinned her to the bed under the weight of his muscular arm. Normally she would protest, but instantly he was asleep again, his breathing slow and heavy, the occasional snore escaping his lips. Dravinna sighed, stretching out in the bed beside of him, her own mind relaxing into the idea of sleep once more.