RP:It Listens and It Smells Fear

Part of the Time Heals All Wounds Arc

Synopsis: Penelope confronts that Linken's entity attacked Krice, though Linken admits the truth, for he says that Krice lied. Penelope is heated, and Linken tries to explain himself when the malign makes itself known to Linken. It is invisible. The entity threatens to kill the healer if the elf does not shush down. The two have to act out their communication to be cautious, and so Penelope knows what is going on. The malign entity is growing worse.

Halifax Roots

The evening was coming to an end as the sky was finally turning into a grey hue to eventually turn into a dark starry sky. The woman keeps the doors of the shop cracked open from when Krice had entered and conversed with the herbalist about the elf that was tainted with darkness. Her mind was spiraling. The warrior told her not to become too close and to watch her steps around the elf that was now lingering back into her life. He was dangerous, but Penelope had knew, for she was smarter than most thought. The woman was witty in many ways, and she was not oblivious for the situation at hand. Linken was a threat. She knew, but she also knew there was a softness that still was hidden deep within the man. The old Linken. The one who remembered. The herbalist who was cooking herbs on the stove for making oils was now letting the pan cool, so the oil would begin to separate over time. In the meantime, the woman had been cleaning the counter for leftover spilled herbs from the mortar and pestle that had mashed seeds and petals. The girl wipes the rag over the counter. She is dressed in a striped, button-up blouse and a pair of slacks. She looks professional as always as she had grown into the workaholic that was her in her medicine work. An apron is, once again, wrapped around her waist so she would not get a mess on her slacks. The shop is quiet. Ruari is nowhere to be found, for he was left in Cenril. Nothing but the sound of soft, calming hums from the doors of the shop as the evening comes to night.

Linken's stride came to a halt, feet planted firmly before the shop door as he studiously examined every notch and grain in it's wood; He was hesitant, unable to bring himself to enter in fear of a similar occurrence as the night before, an thus began rapping his forehead lightly against the shop door as he pondered, deeply conflicted. How much longer could he tolerate exposing her? Should he just run away? Climb the highest mountain, dive the depths of the sea, find some place, anywhere, where no once could reach him. The elf would sigh in despair, lifting a hand and trailing the tips of his fingers along the wooden edge of the door frame; He knew he could not simply run off, for he had given her his word that they would at least try to figure this out her way, and in this world, where Linken had not even the freedom to control his own body as he pleases, the only true control he had was over his word, and he would not make a liar of himself yet. Having stalled for long enough, he'd let slip an unprepared sigh before wrapping his hand around the door knob and pushing his way through and into the establishment, gently rapping on the door thrice to announce his presence before shutting it behind him. "Hello? It's me..."

Penelope knew he had been beyond the door, for the warrior with the katana had told her to be more aware of her surroundings. As he knocks three times, she looks up as if the knocks do not phase her and her humming comes to a stop. The elf steps into the shop, and Penelope gives him a small smile. “Hey,” she says simply. The woman then folds up the towel that she wipes the counter with. “How have you been? I feel like I haven’t… seen you, seen you in a while, y’know?” She comes around the counter. “I’ve been so busy with work and healing, I apologize for the distance, if it seems that way.” Moss eyes slowly trail over the elf’s frame. He was the same, though very unfamiliar in personality. Not the same Linken. He was foreign to her, though she is gentle all-the-same.

Linken lingered near the borders of her home, keeping but a few steps away from the establishment's door as he pondered his options of what to say next; the elf came here on a mission, determined to share with her the details of the past few days, and what had happened to him. The temple, the encounter in the woods... So much had happened, and the moment her quaint greeting drew his gaze up from the floorboards he would take a single step forward, hand lifting and mouth opening to spill it all out. However, barely a minute syllable would escape his maw before he found himself interrupted, watching as the woman pivoted around the counter with explanations for her absence, as if it were -her- that had run off through the woods in search of...well, something, and not himself. As she spoke, Linken found himself staring; how could Penelope remain so calm, collected, and eager to approach him, especially considering the constant threat he posed to her and all around him? He looked on with an expression of admiration as he struggled to divine the secret of her strength, and when she spoke, something in the calm, almost casual concern in her voice stirred an unfamiliar feeling inside the elf: It was comparable to a molten heat that burned in his chest and dripped down his spine. Soon realizing he'd stared at her a tad too long, quickly averting his gaze while raising his already lifted hand to his chest, scratching at a feigned itch as he checked the beat of his heart. "...A-uh, yes! Well, I've been busy, so..." His heart was drumming faster than he could ever recall. Also, -what- on Arkhen's green earth could you possibly have been busy with? You don't know anyone else but her, idiot! The elf quickly met her gaze with an awkward smile, raising both hands before him and waving them apologetically. "Oh, no, no, It's not your fault. You've plenty of real work to take care of without my sorry arse bogging you down." The elf forced a nervous chuckle, reaching up to dig his fingers into the back of his hair as he found himself at a loss for words, struggling to compose what to say next. "...So... How are you? Everything alright, I hope?"

Penelope finds herself searching over her face as he longingly stares at her which brings her back to reflect on once upon a time briefly, but her eyes shift as lingers on a hand that is idly tapping on the counter. “Busy… right,” she knew exactly what he had been up to. Especially because Krice came knocking on her door. The woman did not know whether to confront him or not at the very moment, so instead she picks up the cleaning cloth for the counter. She pretends there are more spots to tend to. “You know, I’m good,” her eyes linger back up on him. “I’ve been learning a few things… defensive skills, really. For multiple purposes.” Because him knowing was too urgent for her to hold her tongue, “You may know him. A man, with a katana, black garb. He’s my instructor. He said he ran into. He came and visited earlier today. So I understand that you are… quite busy, as you say,” there was a bit of aggression in her tone, but not harsh to scare him off. Just to question him. “You know, I am worried about you, and although we are both in seek for answers… you’re worrying strangers.” The woman is upfront. She could not hide what was happening to him, for she was always honest with him—for the most part. Not when she first left or the second time she left him, but now she decided to be.

Linken's normally expressive facade began to slowly melt away, soon gazing upon her blankly, as if left in shock with a distasteful smile painfully stretching his cheeks. "...Are you serious?" He'd nearly blurted a laugh before attempting to collect himself, nodding in half acceptance before closing his eyes, pressing one palm to his forehead and placing the other hand on his hip. "...Okay then. Are you honestly telling me that....that...that..." His hand smeared the sweat from his now feverish brow, extending a digit and tapping it in the air as he struggled to find the word he was looking for, and when his eyes opened, Penelope could feel the impact of his aggressive glare. "...that....that, ~psychopathic thug~ is your -mentor-?? First off," he'd exclaim, coming to a quick stride to close the distance between them as his pointed finger turned to greet her like the tip of a knife. "That is -not- what I was doing, okay? I was actually on my way back when I crossed paths with that nut job! And second, I'll bet that lunatic left out the part where it all happened because -he- attacked -ME-!!" Linken's finger turned inward and pressed firmly into his chest several times, his face now flushing with anger and hurt at the accusatory manner of her tone and how she's approached him. Why do these things keep happening? Why him? None of this was his fault, his choice. Maybe a choice he'd made in another life, but not him. Not now. "I was walking along a path, and all I did was brush past him! Next thing I know, this guy rushes me, gets in my face and just stares me down like one of those...crazies! I tried to leave, but before I could take a step that-that sociopathic -lunatic- drew his sword and tried to -kill- me!" Linken snaps his gaze quickly to his prosthetic limb, lifting it and wagging it excessively in front of Penelope for emphasis as he continued, "It's a good thing I have this stupid thing and a weirdly ridiculous reaction time, 'cause I caught the damn blade before I realized he even attacked me! I could be dead right now! That arsehole scared the life out of me!!" Just as his rant had begun to peak, that familiar sharp pain pierced the center of his skull, the suddenness of the migraine catching Linken off guard and buckling his legs, sending him tipping sideways into the counter and barely managing to latch on for support as he slid down to head level with it's surface. "Oh, dammit," he cried, wincing and grinding his teeth as he released one hand from the counter to press into his head. "....AaaaaaAAAHH, what the HELL?? Grrr, why does this keep -happening-? Gods, I really can't keep doing this, please..."

Penelope inhaled sharply to prepare on what he was about to say until he mentions how out-of-line the warrior is. “Psychopathic—“ she is cut off as he strides to close the distance. In a flash, she was back internally in the deepened memories of the past, though her face expresses a flat line to show nothing to him. The strength he pursued is what she had used to know. He was still there. Still present, although at rest within. The herbalist lets the metallic-armed elf rant to her. “So this ‘nut job’ just randomly attacked -you-?” This did not sound like the Krice she knew. “No intimidation? No action?” She paused and her lip curves and her teeth begin to grind at the thought of the whiteness dabbed across Krice’s words to her. “He has an intimidating stare… he’s not crazy,” she tries to protect the warrior who was her tutor. Then again, the thought of Krice trying to kill Linken made her uneasy. “My teacher,” she would keep the name out of the question for Krice’s safety. “He spoke of your… entity… that thing… it sent him into a dark abyss. Hellacious. Are you sure it’s not because of that happening first?” It was hard for the girl to trust the elf right now, and she looks at him with skepticism. She casually tries to back up to begin to wipe the counter again to gain space from the man she once knew. As Linken, however, buckles in pain from his throbbing head, she wipes the counter quickly out of stress habit before dropping the towel on the counter. Moss eyes stare at him in guilt. She gives in. The woman nears again and attempts to grasp his shoulder, but she does not out of her own safety. “You’re head,” her voice falls back into soft silk, although the conversation had gotten out of hand—his health out of hand. “Let me ease the pain. Can I ease the pain? There has to be something in this Gods forsaken shop to help your pain.” The herbalist looked at him desperately. Her eyes fall on different oils, salves, and herbs that surround the shop. Most likely, these are not going to help his case.

Linken, not wanting to remove the cold steel that was soothing his head, released the counter and swatted away her hand in frustration when she reached out to him, all to late too late to realize that his other arm was the only thing supporting him. "Just leave me a-aaaAAHHH!" His scream abruptly stopped when he slipped down past his knees, the elf's face loudly smashing into the side of the counter before letting out a muffled cry of agony, sliding down the rest of the way to the floor in defeat before rolling over to sit upright, hands both pressed to his face as he groaned. "...Uhhh-uh-uh-ugh, just....just stay back, please... Don't come near me, I can't risk you-" Linken stopped himself, drawing a deep, exasperated breath before continuing, his muffled voice leaking through his fingers. "...And no, by the way, that -thing- only came out cause that bastard attacked me. He freaking provoked it...." How much more of this could the elf endure? Spontaneous possession, fits of murderous violence, searing pain and random attackers; at this point, Linken was ready for death. It would be so much easier. "...Gods, today alone, I've already been forced to endure the most -unfathomable- pain I've ever experienced... I feel like I've had the crud kicked out of me in a dungeon for years, I don't even know how I managed to make it back...And then that..." One hand broke from his face to waft dismissively, revealing a skew of tears staining his cheek before being quickly concealed again, "Freaking guy attacks me out of nowhere...I can't, I just can't keep doing this, it's all too much! Dammit I CAN'T!!" Linken screamed into his hands, venting all the anxiety pent up within from the constant looming danger over his head, before his scream dissolved into deep, heavy sobs. "I have to leave, I can't keep doing this... I just wanted to go home..." A moment would pass before the irony in his request truly struck him, forcing a choked laugh that only served to intensify his dismal cries. "...Oh, noooo, gods, I don't even know where home -is-...."The weight of his situation, stranded in an unfamiliar world after having lost himself, had finally begun to weigh too heavy, coiling up in a scared and defensive manner by pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his lap to continue his terrified cries. Linken was scared. So, so very scared. What could he possibly have done to deserve this fate?

The healer cannot listen to him, instead, she is falling to her knees with him and her arm is now on him. “I’m not staying back, you’re sick.” She says sternly. “I need to help you, Linken. I can’t watch you like this. You’ve never needed me like this. I’ve always needed you,” she confesses sternly. “I’ve never seen you in a state like this,” she adds genuinely. Her voice tries to stay steady, but she is unsure of what is going on physically and mentally. “Provoking,” she repeats his words and looks past him. “Well noted,” the stern gaze turns into something unkown. Strange. Anger? Frustration? Familiar along those lines. Not as severe as the battlefield. As the elf explains his pain, she nods in attentiveness. “Perhaps the winter poppies… they might numb your pain. Although a strong drug, it might weaken the feelings… it might keep it away longer,” she observes as she looks over his pained face. The sobs he expresses gives her a sickening pain in her stomach. Her face twists as if she feels sympathy. “Don’t leave. You’re the safest here… I’ve talked to my tutor already. He knows that this is not who you are… he came to me,” and he still yearns for home, and she leans back and sits on her bump as she stares into oblivion. Her mind begins to stir. His home. What was his home? Who was he before the darken being had taken him? “Shhh,” she manages to breath out in sounds. Her hand rests gently now on his back. “I’m going to take care of you. We will figure this out, Lin,” she soothes. “We will make sure the pain goes away… Somehow… soon. Very soon,” she coos, but surely, she was not sure whether that was the case. She was just saying what he wanted to hear. The healer did not know where to go from there. The woman did not know how to win the fight for him.

Linken bites back in response to her words, "Don't say that! I am -not- sick. There is nothing wrong with me...I'm haunted by a freaking nightmare...." Despite his clear disapproval, he does not fight her touch anymore, instead leaning into her embrace with arms clinging tightly around her waist, all the while burying his sobs into her shoulder until he felt the need to speak, stopping her excessive medical inquiries before the got out of hand while managing to stifle a noticeable chuckle as a thought crossed his mind. "...Geez...You're such a doctor...No, this was not something that can be fixed with medicine, I don't think. It was something else, I..." Linken managed to pry his eyes from Penny's tear soaked sleeve, gazing upward to meet her eyes with cerulean hues pulsing with fear and concern. "...I didn't get to finish telling you. When I left, I merely went to town to...well...watch people." The elf grimaced, shaking his head and quickly averting his gaze to hide his embarrassment; he'd realized how creepy that sounded, and it was not his intention. "I don't mean it like -that-, I just..." He sighs, taking a deep breath. "The way I am - what's happening to me - I know I can't parade around in public, I'm not an idiot, it's just... I like to watch them. Go about their day, you know? Seeing other people, busy-bodying around, it just maes me feel not so....alone." Linken closes his eyes, lingering in her embrace for bt a moment longer before releasing her, sitting upright with his gaze fixated on the floor before him and both hands folded in his lap. "I was actually on my way back, when I...well, I heard something." He shakes his head. "At least I thought I did. It was like a faint ringing, but it sounded like someone...calling to me, though I couldn't understand them. It was like a distant scream... I figured someone might be in need of help, so I decided to pursue it..." It was clear by his shift in expression that the next part of his tale wasn't a pleasant recollection. "I don't know how far I ventured into the woods, or for how long... but I followed it for a long time, ' til it started to get louder and then..."

The healer cannot listen to him, instead, she is falling to her knees with him and her arm is now on him. “I’m not staying back, you’re sick.” She says sternly. “I need to help you, Linken. I can’t watch you like this. You’ve never needed me like this. I’ve always needed you,” she confesses sternly. “I’ve never seen you in a state like this,” she adds genuinely. Her voice tries to stay steady, but she is unsure of what is going on physically and mentally. “Provoking,” she repeats his words and looks past him. “Well noted,” the stern gaze turns into something unkown. Strange. Anger? Frustration? Familiar along those lines. Not as severe as the battlefield. As the elf explains his pain, she nods in attentiveness. “Perhaps the winter poppies… they might numb your pain. Although a strong drug, it might weaken the feelings… it might keep it away longer,” she observes as she looks over his pained face. The sobs he expresses gives her a sickening pain in her stomach. Her face twists as if she feels sympathy. “Don’t leave. You’re the safest here… I’ve talked to my tutor already. He knows that this is not who you are… he came to me,” and he still yearns for home, and she leans back and sits on her bump as she stares into oblivion. Her mind begins to stir. His home. What was his home? Who was he before the darken being had taken him? “Shhh,” she manages to breathe out sounds. Her hand rests gently now on his back. “I’m going to take care of you. We will figure this out, Lin,” she soothes. “We will make sure the pain goes away… Somehow… soon. Very soon,” she coos, but surely, she was not sure whether that was the case. She was just saying what he wanted to hear. The healer did not know where to go from there. The woman did not know how to win the fight for him.

Linken choked on his words, shielding his mouth with a balled fist and clearing his throat with a mild cough and a gulp. "...That's when the pain started. It was mild at first, like I bumped my head on something, but it was constant...and the further I got in, it progressively got worse." Linken shudders at the mere thought of the torture his body experienced. "It was like this noise kept drawing me in, it had a hold on me, but the closer I got the pain spread, until it encapsulated my entire body...I've never felt anything like it, I wouldn't have ever thought that level of pain imaginable until I experienced it myself. It was like being in a vice...or, like being bound to a tree, with a noose around your neck tied to a runaway horse... I probably crawled through the woods on my hands and knees for an entire day...until I finally reached-" The cut in his speech was sudden, with the elf's posture suddenly straightening out against the side of the counter, and a look akin to a startling realization plastered across his frozen face. What Penelope could not see, however, was the twisted, contorted figure on the counter top, lurching forward and down over the counter with its face peering into the elf's eyes upside-down from barely an inch away, and the expression on his face was actually one of fear. "Tsk, tsk. ~Now, noooow~," the entity mused, loud cracking and popping causing Linken to blink and twitch as his doppelganger's neck broke, twisting and jarring itself around until those black pools stared into his soul upright. "Did we forget what I said would happen if you spoke to much about your little foray." The mangled creature lurched forward ever closer, forcing the elf back against the counter as far as he could lean while it lurched towards his ear, whispering with a wicked, rotten smile, "...Another word, and this time, ~you~ will be cleaning the counter top."

Penelope keeps her eyes steady on his words. His head was getting worse. New symptoms were occurring with the elf. Was it a migraine? ‘The pain spread…I’ve never felt anything like it’. His explanation turned her worried face grim. There was no more searching into the man’s face, instead, she only was trying to connect dots distant within her mind. “It’s getting stronger—“ she is cut off, too, as the elf grew startled. Instead of backing away, she tries to continue closer and follow the blue, fearful gaze. Her upturned nose tries to point in the direction his gaze goes. Nothing. Everything was normal. Though the sense of fear said otherwise. The woman looks confused and her moss eyes squint. “Linken, what? What’s wrong? What do you see?” The man scrambles back against the countertop as if trying to get away from something. The woman had remembered her first encounter… When the being had vomited the black goop on her face, but then it reversed back into the being’s mouth—like an illusion, but it was hard to tell. “Is it him?” Linken was staring at something—someone other than herself. “If you are here, get the hell away from him,” she says not very loudly, but more of a soft, stern threat. “Get out of my shop. You don’t belong here.” The freckled woman then gets to her feet. “You’re weak. You swipe a man’s memory and then you threaten him. Cowardly,” her brows are narrowed as she looks into the blank air with none there except Linken himself.

Linken can only blink in response to the twisted horror as it latches firmly to the counter on either side of his head, speechless at the grotesque display of joints dislocating and reconnecting as the entity flips itself over and plants its feet on the ground, rotating its body around to realign itself while its head remained steady in a gyroscopic manner. "Uh-oh," it whimpered, tilting it's gaze towards Penelope at an angle before looking back down at him mockingly, it's lips puckered and eyebrows lofted. "Someone's acting a little territorial. Almost as if she think's -she's- the one who owns you." The creature's lips flap as it blurts out a short lived fit of laughter, flecking spit across the elf's face in the process before spontaneously lunging at his neck, stopping a hair's with away from his ear to whisper, "And what use would I have of you without your memories? You've lost everything that made you useful to me. It's ~her~ fault your memories have been stripped from you, not mine. The elf's gaze widened at it's remark, snapping towards Penelope and back in a fraction of a second, yet that was all the time the horror needed to vanish from sight. Linken was shaken to his core; unable to move more than a slight tremble, or the rise and fall of his chest, he was paralyzed not only by fear, but the marathon of thoughts running through his mind. How could he convey what he knew to Penelope without getting her slaughtered? On top of that, was the creature being honest when it said Penelope caused his loss of memory? What could she have possibly done to him, and why? Then, it hit him: The priest. A suggestion that he made. The elf no longer felt safe discussing his plight with anyone, but if that priest was right, he might at least be able to get a point across. Linken closed his eyes for a moment a drew a deep breath to collect his thoughts, and when his eyes opened, they brought with them a calm and firm expression akin to the demeanor of his true, forgotten self. Like stepping back out of the past, he turned to face Penelope with a comforting smile, slightly shaking his head in feign disapproval of her remarks before rising up to his feet and reaching out to her with an offered hand. "No, don't worry, it's not here right now...I was just...shocked, by the recollection of that amount of pain. It was...eye opening, to say the least." Before she'd even have a chance to reply, the elf would snatch her by the hand and swiftly pull her up to eye level, coming face to face with the smiling ghost from her past for a few moments before he'd turn away, turning his gaze in the exact opposite direction to study the far end of the room while leaning into the counter and resting his forearms on it's surface for support. "Say, do you have anything to drink here? I've been gone all this time, and with everything I went through, for who knows how long, I'm feeling a little drained..." As he spoke, his right arm parted from its place in front of him, slowly creeping off to his side before pinching his fingers, cautiously using slight movements to mime the act of writing with a pen before tapping the spot on the counter beside him. Hopefully, she'd get the hint.

Penelope felt rather cautious. She stares at the oblivion where the elf’s gaze is. Her hand itches to grab the blade that hides within the hilt of her slacks. Perhaps paranoia had gotten the best of her. Linken was not moving. Not speaking. The air was silent. Nothing but the faint gasps from the metallic-armed man before her. The man looked like he was staring into the face of death. The healer had seen that panicked face from plenty of people to pass her by through Yerrel’s hut. The silence dragged, but she still remained stoic with stillness of stone. The threatening posture she carried did falter for even a moment. Not until the horrified man breathed; then she breathed. When his eyes opened, she stares into the face of the one she once knew. The one who carried her forward. A face of strength. Security. The ghost of a man. Her eyes sort of lighten with the relief, but her head cants in the oddity of the situation. “What the hell was—“ Perhaps the pain caused him to go through a motion of post-traumatic stress, however, the strangeness and the sadistic state he was being put through made her wonder. Especially since the man she once knew lingered on his expression. A protective face. A confident and knowing face. His request drops her wandering mind, “Err—yes. I normally keep something strong in the cupboard for the rougher days,” and without hesitation she moves briskly to fetch a glass of whisky. As she pours the bottle in silence. She stares at the counter until she hears the tapping on the counter. Moss eyes carefully flick towards the tapping and she notices the movement within his hand—like he was writing something in the air. She coughs for a moment with a small narrowed brow in thought. The healer then slowly slinks over with his glass before sliding it his way. She nears where he is tapping beside him. Was he beckoning her to stand next to him? To watch his other hand? “Here… this whisky is smooth. It’ll do the trick.” The woman’s eyes would go to his face, to his hand.

Linken's ears flick at the sound of the glass chinking against the counter, cupping it in his steel hand and sliding it down to the opposite one before raising it in the air and dipping his head. "Thank you, Penny," he hummed before raising the glass of his favorite malt beverage to his lips, attempting to trace a phrase of some kind on the counter with the tip of his finger...before being interrupted by the spew of whiskey the shot from his mouth across the table, breaking his trail of focus. "Pfffffft-Blechk!! Oh, gods, what the hell is this s#%t?" It would seem this Linken had not yet been exposed to the wonders of alcoholism yet. After gagging a few times and smacking his lips, the elf sighed and placed the glass back down on the counter, resuming his gesturing with his finger and miming out the letters P-E-N as he apologized for the display, continuing to look away as he cleared his throat. "I am...terribly sorry about that, Penny. I will clean it up in a moment, but I'm feeling really dehydrated. Don't you have anything else to drink that...well...doesn't taste like that? Gods, what -is- that? Never in my life have I- oh, wow that was foul..."

Penelope jumps startled as he begins gagging. She holds up her hands in defense. “It’s whiskey. People drink it to take off edge,” she reaches out to take the glass away from him, but as she does so, her eyes trace his air motions. A pen. Her? She is here. A pen. “Oh,” she almost drags out as she gets the hint, however, she realizes that perhaps this was supposed to be secretive, so she quickly adds. “You don’t remember the taste anymore,” she acts sheepishly on purpose. The woman gets the hint. “Don’t apologize, Lin. I’ll… get you… something with less of a horrible kick. Probably best to stay hydrated anyway,” she pivots to move behind the counter to get a new glass and in a drawer off to the side, she grabs some stray parchment that was made to make a list and a pen. “I’ll have to make a note for no whiskey anymore.” The freckled woman scratches the note down. She then moves to the fridge to grab a water pitcher to pour a new glass. The woman finally moves back to his side as she idly slides the pen near him and the parchment with the water glass on top. “Try this,” she says with a small, half-laugh of foolishness. “More nourishing.”

Linken is quick to grab the second glass, raising it to his nose to cautiously sniff the liquid as he feels around for the pen, and the moment he finds it he raises the glass to his lips with a content sigh and begins scrawling as he gulps the refreshment down in as much time as it takes him to write. The glass and pen would touch the counter at the same time, an exhausted breath slipping through his lips as he lowered his gaze to the floor, sliding the parchment close enough for her to discern the hastily scribbled words, 'If I tell he'll kill you. Suggest picnic. Hide note. Turning around.' "Ah, thank you," he exclaimed with deep gratitude as he turned about to face her with a warm, appreciative smile, all traces of his message hopefully removed from view as he looks her over. "I honestly didn't realize just how thirsty I actually was... Not to mention hungry, now that I think about it, but honestly, I feel way too tired to eat anything tonight..."

Penelope’s eyes curiously trace the paper to the man drinking the glass to a nearby towel again. She plays nonchalant and wipes the counter again until the paper comes into view. ‘If I tell, he’ll kill you’. Eyes become lifeless for a moment as she takes in the message. Death. What about his? The woman, however, slides the note out of side and places it in her slack pocket with a fluid motion. He turns to face the woman and a slight smile forms on her lips. “Well, I can make you something quick to eat, surely you need more than just a glass of water… I can make you a snack, and maybe,” she acts as if she is thinking, but really internally she is hesitant. A picnic. With Linken? “A picnic tomorrow? Get you some fresh air without… the pain. We don’t have to go far.” Her fingers idly tap on the counter in a pleasant manner before she inhales a small breath to keep the grace in her voice. It was listening.

Linken puckers his lips and lofts his eyebrows, cerulean hues tracing the corners of the room as he slowly nods in compliance. "You know what," he exclaims while easing back and resting his hind on the counter with arms folded, "Now that I think about it... Since I woke up in this place, A single day has not gone by without me being harassed or assaulted, or put into some sort of dangerous situation...." His gaze finally returned to meet hers, an appreciative and reassuring smile slowly tugging at the corners of his mouth. "...Perhaps I could use a day to relax. Away from other people, and their worries. I think a picnic sounds like a wonderful idea." Though it may be part of some plan he's concocted, the emotion showing through his eyes and lining his throat gleaned that his words were not just some display, but the most honest thing he'd spoken since his arrival that night. Well, that, and the whiskey tasting like s#%t. "After all, it might be a good opportunity for me to throw some questions at you, finally learn something or other about this world I'm living in now. Maybe I'll learn something about you, too?" Linken couldn't help but smile as he looked at her, his shift in tone making it progressively difficult to discern whether or not he was still putting on an act. Perhaps that was the point? If so, Linken was doing an outstanding job at appearing sincere.

The two remain in their act. An act was all this was to her. Protection. Safety. For him, although he was trying to for her. Death, however, did not scare her. She did know, though, it would put him at ease to think that he was keeping her safe. “Take my bedroom tonight. I have some extra prepping and cleaning for tomorrow’s appointments before the picnic. I’ll sleep at Yerrel’s and lock the store tight. You’ve had rough travels, let me make it up to you with good rest.” She returns the honesty in her generous hospitality. The once young girl had aged with maturity. A fierceness. An edge, but she remains cool for him all-the-same. “Questions,” she repeats with skepticism. People never asked her questions. Only Lanara. The witch was the nosy one, but so was Penelope when she wanted to be. With a firm nod of her head, she gives in to his tone of voice. So much like past Linken. “Fair enough. I suppose you deserve to know whose doors you are sleeping in,” whether it be Yerrel’s or her own. Both were her home—for now. “Perhaps I can learn… new—or old? Uh, you. Learn about you too,” the hesitance was beginning to grow, although this was an act. This was a show. Right? Beat. If so, the show was working. “Now, get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she does not leave. Instead, she begins cleaning again like she was stuck in a time loop. Her gaze returns steadily and back into focus which was secretly distraction. Krice was right. Whatever was inside Linken was horrific and controlled Linken’s every word.