#marmottine

Moira looked at the content of Sinead's goblet.

“Are you drinking juice? That's why you were falling asleep, I will buy us something to wake you up.”

Grinning at her, Sinead went back to her seat, gazing at the witcher girl walking inside the Inn to order some drinks.

She have changed, she thought, looking at her friend's long yellow dress framing her muscular form, and at the brown hair falling on her back, barely hiding the scar on her neck. Since when she wears her hair without tying them? And a dress? She could barely believe it.

Moira came back with two pints of beer, and, cheering loudly, the two companions began a friendly conversation after having taken several gulps of their Redanian Lager.

“I am glad you finally decided to visit me, Sen, what took you so long? Sure it can't be that old rascal you used to work for as a bodyguard in Kovir?”

“No,” answered Sinead with a sigh, “I told you last time we met in Toussaint that I was done working for him. I have my share with imbeciles. I was earlier hired by a non-human family, dwarves to be precise. They succeeded in having the monopoly on dimeritium ore on Upper Aedirn after they began the mining of orichalcum in caves nearby. They got a lots of enemies in the process and need a constant protection. I found a temporary solution while I visit you here, they will manage without me for some times.” She finished with a smirk.

“You told me you had a week no? It's plenty of time to catch up with the last three years. I was beginning to suspect that you didn't wanted to meet my companion.” She cast a knowing look to Sinead whose blood drained from her face.

“No... not at all. You told me so much about him in your letters, I can't wait to meet him.” The woman gathered her sudden sweaty hands and raised her back, looking down at the street. “Surely he must be very special that man who managed to make you dress in a more feminine way.” She glanced at the witcher medallion with a cat figure around Moira's neck. “Still with the kind of profession you have, your choice is to say the least very surprising... and dangerous. I hope you know what you are doing.”

The witcher beamed at her friend, relaxing in her chair. “Trust me Sen, I will never be with someone like him if I wasn't sure of my decision. I am sure you will change your mind before the end of the week! Did I told you we just rent a new house in the city? Nothing too fancy but we needed a place that could both suits his needs as a surgeon and our own desire to have enough space where we won't get disturbed. Actually we plan to move back to Dillingen soon, perhaps in a month or two.”

Listening to her friend's excited explanation, Sinead couldn't help being worried about meeting him. Moira trusted her enough to reveal the true nature of the man called Regis. A higher vampire... a blood drinker. Sinead never met one before, and her friend did praised his many merits but still... With all the men on this world why she had to choose a vampire?

Later that afternoon, Moira led Sinead to a colourful house, lying in front of a courtyard filled with various plants. Before the witcher had time to grasp the handle, a man opened the door suddenly, smiling at them both with open arms.

“Miss Mater-Duvalier, a pleasure to finally meet you!” said the man, bowing slightly to her, a hand to his chest. “My name is Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, but please Regis will do just fine. How do you find our dear Nazair, not too noisy?”

Looking at him up and down, Sinead opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came from her. That man was the complete opposite of what she had imagined. Instead of the cold and calculated being she thought of meeting, a cheerful middle-aged man harbouring a warm expression was standing on the doorway. He even looked like the chatty type, which surprised her even more. Nothing on him could indicate his belonging to the non-human (and frightening) category.

Moira gave a tap in her arm to put her out of her non too-subtle stare.

“Yes!” exclaimed Sinead, “I mean no, not too noisy. In fact it's a rather charming city.” She  cast her head down suddenly shy at his intense eyes. “I am looking forward to visit more of it with Moira as my guide.”

“Excellent!” answered Regis, leading them inside the house. “I hope you are already hungry for I intend to prepare some tasty nazairi speciality for tonight dinner. While you wait I am sure Moira will show you the guest-room.”

                           .............................................

The food was as promising as Regis told them, even so with some spicy red wine coming from the coast that Regis pronounced with a perfect nazairi accent, Zweigelt.

“Soooo,” voiced Moira while they were wandering around the borders of the city, watching the sunset. “What are your impression on Regis? I saw the way you were looking at him and I can already tell he enthralled you with his tale about psilocybe mushrooms and the distillation of its essence to create as he said «hallucinogenic narcotics capable to hinder the most preposterous allegations of the so called vigorous lover»” both friends laughed in unison at the perfect imitation.

“I have to admit that he put the world of herbalism at a new level of interest for me. He seems to be a rather passionate person, and he have a very special way to captivate our attention. I think I begin to see why you picked an immortal blood-sucker as your companion. I guess he is as good in bed as he is with rhetoric.”

Moira pushed Sinead playfully, seeing by the giant grin on her friend's face that she was trying to mess with her. By chance no one was around them to hear their suspicious conversation.

“A lot happened since the first time I saw him in Brugge during that winter in his little cottage. I met with many, travelled in unknown places, saw things from new perspectives. We parted way and found ourselves on each others path again. There were doubts, sadness, happiness and love.” Gazing at her friend, she stopped, smiling. “But at the end I felt like I belong somewhere again, just by his sides.”

Sinead put her arm around the witcher's shoulders. Yes. I can see it now. That smile on his face that's echoing on your own. The cat has found its way home.

“By the way,” said Sinead while they sat on a bench along the path. “Who was that handsome black-haired guy who walked inside the house during our dinner and turned back as soon as he saw me in the room? Did I frightened him that much?”

Moira laughed. “Don't mind him, he is not very fond of newcomers. His name is Dettlaff. He is a very good friend of Regis, leaving nearby close to the city.” A grin appeared on her face. “Mm actually, maybe we could meet him someday, if you are willing to stay a bit longer and not afraid of wild being?” She empathized the last words with an exaggerated tone.