RP:Hello, Old Friend

Synopsis: Penelope visits Frostmaw to help with the people in need due to Xicotl's efforts of destroying the frosty city. She runs and sits down in the tavern with an old friend... Krice. The two are slowly rekindling their friendship after the hardships in the past. The two end on intending to see each other again--next time, hopefully with Talyara. Will there end up being a day of baking and positivity after extremities of post-war trauma?

Frostmaw Tavern

Penelope stomps off powder as she enters the tavern. The human is overly bundled, as she loathes the chill in the wintry mountains. She wears a dark brown, thick-lined, fur coat and underneath a thick knit-cream sweater is worn beneath it. A scarf buries her mouth where moss eyes are the only thing visible on her face, along with her freckles. She sports a pair of leggings, and down at her feet, she wears multiple layers of stockings. Cream knit stockings that go to her knees, lowly layered with grey stockings that are mid-calf, down to brown knit socks that are just mildly below that. Not to mention, fur-lined boots. Yeah, Penelope was a baby when it came to Frostmaw. The reason why she was in Frostmaw? Well, she was helping with people in the shelter, as many lost their homes and families due to the battle, and she could not just stand by. Her broken arm seems to be still healing as she wears a sling still. The woman then brushes across the tavern floor to the fireplace where she lifts her hands. The pink in her cheeks begins to fade before she moves to get something warm to drink for the evening, so yes, now she is unlayering–her scarf and coat, at least.

Krice was the complete opposite of Penelope when it came to the cold; while she bundled up in as many layers as was practical, he wore his regular slacks and button-down shirt. Since the battle against Xicotl, he had walked around Frostmaw also wearing robes, though for warmth or appearances remained to be seen; the garment wasn't made of fur so potentially the latter. Penelope might hear the door through the hum of tavern chatter, but more likely she'd feel the cold that chased it as it was opened - and then the warrior was standing to her left and roughly a meter behind her, long silver hair slightly messy around his face, and a bit damp from melted snow. Though he was mostly clothed and thus hidden from medical scrutiny, he didn't appear to harbour any obvious signs of the battle--the scar that had run down his face from right temple to jaw had faded naturally as if it had been healing for months, so other than the time discrepancy between his wellness and when the battle took place, everything was normal. " Hey," he greeted the woman as she turned for the bar, taking a relaxed step aside to avoid her colliding with him - if she hadn't sensed him at her back before.

Penelope was so blinded by the fabric, she did not recognize the man who typically was found in that button-down. It was not until she was fully able to get that scarf off her face to see in her peripheral vision. A ‘hey’ lingers near her, and the voice sounds very familiar. Once she undoes the puzzle of getting her jacket off her cast, she turns around. “Hey,” she breathes out. Moss eyes scan his face, as that long scar has healed. Odd, but not surprising as most people had the capability to either heal on their own, or find someone with magical healing qualities. Instinctively she orders a warm cider. The last time she saw him, he was pulling Kailani from the crater, and she was getting her arm pressed back into place. Even prior to this, their friendship had been a little strained due to her past and her idiocy with Linken, but even then… Krice was very ill. “How are you doing?” The Ardelian then regrets asking that, since… Frostmaw was in shambles at the moment. People were recovering and homes were lost.

Krice would walk with Penelope to the bar, though he'd stand back while she ordered - close enough for conversation, but not so close that Drargon would think him wanting to order as well; the barkeep knew that the warrior wasn't a drinker, though, so he likely didn't ever ask unless Krice was right there. Regardless, he answered Penelope's greeting with a nod and his customary, " I'm fine." Only a second passed before he said, gentler, " Talyara's okay." Was he telling Penelope, or himself? Difficult to say, but he looked a little distant as the words passed from thought to voice. "What about yourself?" He nodded to indicate her healing arm.

Penelope narrowed her gaze slightly because the last thing she also remembers hearing retching noises from the man that day on the triage field. The blood. There was no time to check in on him that day, and Talyara had it under control. He mentions Talyara, and that narrowed gaze slackens to something a little more solemn. “She’s okay, and… on the field, she was so strong.” It was true. “I’m glad she is safe now. And I’m glad you look better.” It was genuine and soft in return. Drargon passes the warm cider over, and the healer clutches it with one hand, but gently presses fingertips on the mug with the other. “I have another week. Nothing to be worried about.” Mentally, however? She was trying to push that back. Whatever happened in that crater was something she was still trying to understand. The illusions. Ruari’s potential of turning into a thrall and trying to kill her, and vice versa. “Did your cottage make it?” She gestures for them to potentially sit at a nearby table, if he wanted to sit with her.

Krice nodded intermittently at specific points in Penelope's reply, his expression pleasantly neutral - though she knew him well enough to recognize that he was more guarded and reserved than simply unfeeling. Perhaps a sign of his own mental battles regarding the Xicotl war. When she gestured to a nearby table, he offered Drargon a simple warrior-to-warrior nod before accepting Penelope's invite. He'd pull out a chair by it's back for her to sit on before claiming his own across the table, positioning his previously hidden katana, hanging from his left hip, alongside him and the chair out of the way. " By memory, I've only broken a bone once. " Look, he was trying to be social; strange topic but it was a point of common ground.

Penelope blinked once or twice at the polite gesture for her to sit first. The only other one who had pulled her chair out for her was Noah, and he was also someone who confused her tremendously. The woman takes a seat, trying to balance the mug in-hand. She does a careful blow on the heated drink, and she does not delve further on the question of his cottage, but only he speaks of broken bones, and for that, she caves. “This is my second one. When I was a kid, I used to climb a lot of trees.” Back in her ‘innocent’ days. She still had those moments, but when she was young, she never would have pictured getting a broken bone in a battle with a bunch of warriors. Still clueless at heart on how she got wrangled in the frontlines. She knows he is guarded, and not one to be so open, but she always wondered… “How did you heal so fast?” Was he a lycan? She knew that Lanara tended to heal quickly from wounds. Perhaps it was the healer mind of hers. “Or did someone magically mend you?”

Krice thought nothing of his chivalrous act; it was simply something he did. As such, Penelope's confusion was not attributed to the gesture. He didn't mean to ignore her question about the cottage, evidenced by a momentary lapse in focus--he was processing what was missing from the conversation--but by the time he found it in his memory, Penelope had moved on. He was fine with that. Of course, the topic she moved onto was more personal but he answered it the best he could without pouring out his soul. " I don't know how, it's just something I'm capable of." He lifted his left shoulder in a shrug, half-dismissive, half-uncertain. "I've always healed fast - and generally I avoid magical healing. If I need someone's help, traditional methods are usually adequate." His lips pressed together briefly and a crease formed between his brow, subtle but noticeable, before he nodded to her mug. " That good?"

Penelope’s confusion was mostly due to her own culture, but either way, she moves on as she is stuck on an answer about himself. The healer always wondered about him and his personal life. His past. She would not delve forward because he gave her an answer. An answer that could leave her content. The girl does a single nod at the question of confirmation. Is she satisfied? Enough. She would not push. “Yes.” Eyes trail over him again before she looks at her drink that is keeping her warm. “I don’t know how you live here, no offense.” She puts the mug down, and shifts in her chair. Perhaps it was word-vomit… She was not sure, but she said it anyway, as if she was trying to prove something to the man before her. “Remember when I got mad at you due to…” Linken, she holds her breath at his name. “And I said things I shouldn’t have said, and I apologized?” There was more to that story. After she apologized to Krice and said Linken was gone… he was not, and things only got worse. “I, uh, still feel the same way. You’re not ruthless. You saved Kailani.” She scratches the back of her neck. “I want to thank you. She’s one of my dear friends. A mentor. Like… you were.”

Krice shook his head, a half-gesture that directed his eyes from Penelope's face to the table between them. Frostmaw was cold and inhospitable to be sure, but after the Xicotl battle, it felt... Penelope was changing the subject thereafter and lashes lifted to align crimson eyes with hers once more, a little guarded this time specific to the topic at hand. Once more he shook his head and averted his eyes, casually dismissing her need to reiterate an already-made apology. " Don't worry about it." And he meant it. As her eyes trailed over him, she'd see that the warrior wore his customary stoicism, albeit a little more reserved than was normal even for him; maybe they weren't good enough friends for her to notice, but if she did, she might consider it to be heightened introversion. As far as saving Kailani, well... The woman was capable but in that moment, she had needed help - and he had been able to provide it. Resting his right hand on the table, angled in front of his abdomen, the warrior regarded his friend once more and, bemused, said, " Interesting choice." He was hardly a mentor - certainly not to a degree that Kailani might have been, 'dear friend' as she was to the healer. And then, on a softer tone, " But of course. If you needed help, I'd have grabbed you too." He almost smiled. " It's a little hazy in my memory, but seemed like your elf companion was right there for you."

Penelope still felt strange after that apology, though she was still working on her own mentality, even from that time ago. It was a process of healing. For herself. Eyes are lazy as she stares at him, but in the back of her mind, she is observant and notices there might be something on his mind. Perhaps not here, but she lets his gaze go, especially after he waves her past apology away. She then rolls her head to look at him, and a small smile lingers. “If you didn’t perfect my arrow, I’m sure a thrall would’ve snagged me. I mean, I’ve had archery under my belt for years, but… I miss our lessons. Mostly the self-defense lesson. Did you know a crab-looking man helped me with my punching skills?” Rock punch, due to her druidic ability. “I clearly still have a lot to learn, just for self-defense, in general,” she shrugged. He mentions he would have swooped her up, too, and she smirked. “Yeah, well, I’m sure I was bound to be close. You’re, uh, talking of Ruari. The illusions got us. That’s how my arm got broken. He didn’t mean to, but Xicotl’s sick games got us…” Beat. “I’m glad it’s over, and I’m sorry about Frostmaw. I hope to help recover the place. At least help the people without shelter.”

Krice did have things on his mind, things that almost always kept him completely withdrawn from communication, but Penelope was talking and the familiarity of her voice kept him focused. He was glad to hear that their small amount of archery lessons provided her with just enough knowledge to protect herself against the thralls; that had been the whole point after all, to garner defensive skills. His eyes shut as she spoke of illusions, but he narrowed them open to be as attentive as possible to the woman seated across from him. So Ruari had been the one to break her arm? Under the impression of the illusions? What a horrible bastard of creature Xicotl was. With any luck, this final battle had rid the world of it with finality. When he spoke again, his voice was a little unsteady but stabilised with each word. " I don't spent much time up here, anymore. Talyara's cottage was destroyed, and I have a cabin out west, but uh..." Well, there was still a crater that was somehow steadily expanding; it made the entirety of Frostmaw dangerous to those who stayed. " Anyway, Talyara's thinking about rebuilding in the Sage, maybe."

Penelope looked like a doe-eyed deer when the man sounded unsteady. It was odd for her to hear from him, as he had always been so neutral and stoic. Her face falls when he mentions the cottage. The question she had for him prior. If she was patient, and if she would not ramble, she would have focused on that from the start. “I’m sorry, Krice. For you and Talyara.” She rubs the back of her neck idly at the thought. “Well, Lanara lives in Sage, right? That means more time with family?” She is trying to see the positives, but that means Krice and Talyara lost everything. “I live there too,” duh, Penelope. “It might not be the worst thing, and… it is safer than here. Especially after everything that happened.”

Krice and Talyara didn't lose -everything-, but the witch certainly lost her entire house. It had been destroyed before, more than once, so it was not too difficult for her to let it go; as long as they could make new memories elsewhere. Her listed pros for Sage were met with a single nod for them all, as they all were positives that he agreed with. Still, " We're okay. We have the means to rebuild. So many others don't." He glanced away from Penelope to look at the other patrons in the tavern; the mood was still relatively somber, but people were getting on with life and Frostmaw rebuilding was well under way. Returning his focus to the healer, the warrior asked, " What'd you say you were up here for?"

Penelope thought about the other patrons. Some would move on. While he looks around, she takes a sip of the warm liquid. She is thankful for this. Hopefully she will make it down the mountain tonight, so she makes sure to take another sip as well, so the evening would not get away from her. She at least wanted to get herself to a warmer destination. Perhaps some lodging in Xalious. “I was spending time at a shelter for people who lost their homes and/or are still recovering from their injuries until they figured out their next move. I donated some healing supplies from the hut in Sage, and well, I’ve been baking like crazy. Who knew that I could do that so well with one arm?” She makes the joke, but she becomes collected again. “Figured I would help out anyway I could. But I know I need to get down the mountain soon. I don’t think I want my toes to get frostbitten.” The dramatics. Penelope’s toes were not with those three layers of socks and thick boots. “I brought a carriage. Ruari suggested I keep warm for a bit before the trek.” Because Ruari Erickson knows how much of a baby she is with the cold. Penelope lifts her mug in reference. “He’s saddling up. He said he’d wave for me anytime. He shouldn’t be too much longer.”

Krice didn't typically partake in too many jokes, or even receive them, but he was especially underwhelming since the battle against Xicotl. The death, the illusions, deadened - at least for now - his ability to accept and give anything lighthearted. Still, Penelope's joke about one-armed baking caused the left corner of his mouth to twitch a little, as if a smile thought about forming but lacked the function to fully bloom. When she spoke of Ruari being ready with a carriage, he glanced toward the door and then back at Penelope. " Good idea. Bundled as you are, I didn't think you'd have traveled all this way on foot." Certainly not alone, either, with a healing arm; no reflection on her skills to defend herself, just a note of the practicality of bringing some help. " I'll see if Talyara wants to come for a visit, if you're willing. She loves to bake."

Penelope normally found humor in grim situations. That was how she coped. Perhaps toxic, she was sure Noah, the psychiatrist, would think that, so she refused to step foot in his office. Even if he did make a peace-offering of being friends, although he had scolded her multiple times–a kerchief. She notices the stoic man’s lip twitch, and she knew she had him, only for a moment. She knew the atmosphere was solemn, and for that, she gave an apologetic gaze briefly. “No, not up here. I’d probably slip and break the other arm,” it was true. Snow was a no-go. Ruari had been persistent, except for on dry land. Up here? It was dangerous. Just then, the Frostmaw door cracks open and Ruari, the half-elf, is standing there brushing snow off his shoulders and shaking his curly hair like a dog. Penelope glances over her shoulder at the half-elf before turning to gaze at Krice again. “My doors are always open. I miss Talyara. I think we have a lot of things in common, and someone to bake with sounds like my kinda day,” she gives Krice a brief grin, despite the room. Ruari then strides over to the two. Grey eyes move to Krice first, who he knew by name only because of Penelope’s description of him. “Aye,” Ruari nods at the man with the katana. “You ready, Nel?” Penelope looks up. “Yeah,” she gently says before she shifts to stand and drape her coat back on. She rests the scarf just over her shoulders so Krice can see her face. “Thank you for sitting with me. I hope I see you soon. I, uh, may have missed you.” There was something about Krice, but perhaps his stoic, neutral ways put a balance to her chatty mood. He made her feel calm, despite the grim situations.

Krice missed Talyara too, all the time, especially following the events of their encounter with Xicotl. Perhaps it was related, perhaps it was the reason why he was so solemn. He bowed his head in acceptance of Penelope's invitation, which really was a reply to his request for one, but then Ruari stepped in and drew his eye past the woman's face to the door. A cool breeze swirled into the tavern, not reaching the fireplace but tussling some silver over his brow. As Penelope stood, the warrior did as well, tucking his chair in while she wrapped her scarf around her shoulders. He nodded in agreement that it had been good to have this moment to chat, though her admission of missing him earned a pensive stare. Ruari was nearby, which ensured that their farewell did not last long, but Krice said to the woman, " Take care of yourself, Penelope." His next nod was one that acknowledged the Elven male, followed by a return of his focus to Penelope. " Watch the ground; it shifts unexpectedly. Stay warm."

Penelope nodded at the silver-haired man. “You can count on it.” He then talks about the shifting of the ground, and her face turns stone. Serious. She nods. “We will. You take care, too, Krice. I’ll be seeing you.” She was sure of it. And with that, Ruari is guiding her out of the establishment, so they can be guided down the mountain with that galloping of horses.