mar-mckinnon:
“Absolutely” she responded with a nod. “Isn’t alcohol good for wounds?” She then asked with a small smirk. Her mother had been a healer so Marlene learned a few things on the matter, especially since she was always with a scrap on her knee or some sort of injury. Of course she kne that’s not how things worked and drinking alcohol wasn’t a thing for healing the body, but it was to numb the mind and the pain.
There was an extremely thin like between being brave and corageous and being stupid, and Marlene liked to cross it quite regularly. or she used to back in the day when she didn’t have three young siblings to take care of. Her time in the Order had proved that. She would volunteer to anything thrown in her way and she was too proud to let a mission pass. She was also a Hit Witch, and a damn good one, so she did feel qualified to do almost anything. But then again, which dumb teenager wouldn’t feel that way?
She couldn’t help but to chuckle at her reasoning. “And you can be rude back to them” she teased. Clearly, Marlene could have a temper. But she understood why Maren couldn’t be rude to her patients. However, in a bar full of drunk people? Who was stopping them? “Let me buy you a drink” she then said. “What are you having?” She asked curiously.
@mareneseld
@mar-mckinnon
“Oh, yeah, and it’s even better mixed with pain potions.” Maren rolled her eyes, but she returned Marlene’s smile. Maren could recognize a lost cause when she saw one. Marlene was someone who didn’t want help, at least not yet, so the best Maren could do was give her space and be patient. She liked the younger witch, and she wanted to be there for her when she was ready. Maren knew a thing or two about loss, even more so now than she had two years ago, but she wasn’t going to shove advice down Marlene’s throat.
“Exactly.” Maren winked at the younger witch, then laughed. “But really, it’s nice to be around people who are loud and rowdy because they’re having a good time. It’s a good reminder that life is more than pain and suffering.” Maren saw less of that at her job these days, now that the war was over. More and more her patients were the victims of genuine accidents or simple thoughtlessness, not malicious attacks or suspicious coincidences. It should have been comforting, but it unnerved her more than anything and sometimes Maren found herself second guessing even the simplest explanations.
In response to Marlene’s offer Maren grinned. “Well, I won’t say no to that. I’ve got this, but I’ll need something in the sugary cocktail category to balance it out.” Maren lifted the glass of blonde ale she’d ordered upon arriving. It had been Caradoc’s beer of choice, generally more interested in hanging out with friends and meeting new people when he went to a pub than actually getting drunk, and Maren was feeling nostalgic. It wasn’t her favorite drink, or even her favorite beer, but it reminded her of him.













