It’s 5 o’clock Somewhere
snowdropsbeneathfirtrees:
Nayru lay still on the ground as Azrael dealt with the guard, Goddesses be Praised. She didn’t have it in her to think of a plan b, or to really even move at the moment. How Heroes did this business, she’d never understand. Her anxiety was through the roof, and she kind of wanted to just start sobbing, not from pain (though that was a definite factor), but from fear.
As Azrael helped her up, she smiled weakly. “I’m fine, just winded!” She gratefully took the handkerchief from him, carefully wiping up the blood and tenderly checking her nose for lasting damage. Thankfully, it was a purely cosmetic bleed, nothing serious. She could feel the bruises on her stomach and leg starting to radiate, though, and knew that they would be hanging around for a while.
“Please, don’t apologize, it’s not like you set this up. Wrong place, wrong time, you know? What matters is we’re both alive and the wine is safe. Telma would be really upset if one of us died while getting her booze.” She added sarcastically. Carefully she stood, using her staff for support. She cautiously took a few test steps, then looked back as Azrael, smiling. “I should be fine, as long as we go slow, please.”
Even through her pain, she walked with grace. Azrael smiled sadly at her insistence that she was okay, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can go slow,” he assured her. “There’s no rush, not anymore, I think. I doubt those two will be very interested in our whereabouts at the moment.”
As they walked back to the tavern together, Azrael couldn’t help but scold himself. Regardless of whether or not Elenika blamed him or not, he blamed himself; he knew the risk he’d taken in even setting foot in Castle Town, and still he had chosen to come here. Worse still, he had involved someone otherwise innocent, and she had suffered for his irresponsibility. He swore to himself then she would not come under any harm again, not under his watch.
The tavern was a welcome sight after the ordeal in the market. Telma seemed startled at the sight of the blood and bruises. Azrael waved his hand dismissively. “We got your order, Telma, not to worry,” he assured her.
“I’m hardly worried about that right now,” she scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Are you two okay?”
“I’m going to see to that now,” Azrael promised. True to his word, he helped Elenika over to the same table they had been sitting at when she had stitched his face up after the mission in Skyloft. It felt like an eternity ago. Pulling the nearest chair over, Azrael sat down beside her. “How are you holding up?” he asked gently, concern etched in his face as he examined her.
Nayru was glad to have a companion on the walk back. But she was even more glad for her staff, her leg was killing her, and it hurt a bit to breathe. They walked mostly in silence, though Nayru could feel a multitude of questions rising up. As the warmth from Telma’s greeted them, the questions quieted, and she eagerly made her way to the table.
“I’m fine, Telma, and we got the job done! I could do with a drink, though.” She smiled widely at the woman, trying to easy any potential worries. She kept the smile up as she made her way to the table, grimacing as she sank down into a chair. Telma had followed the pair, and set down a little bowl of water, a few pieces of cloth, and drinks for them both. After clicking her tongue and gently smoothing Nayrus hair, the tavernkeep bustled back to her bar, throwing another worried look at them over her shoulder.
Nayru tried to smile reassuringly at Azrael, though the aching bruise that had formed on her cheek caused her to flinch a little. “I’m fine, really. Nothing a bit of ice and a few days of rest can’t cure!” She dipped the cloth in the water and did a quick tidy-up of the remaining dried blood on her face. She made a mental note to try to clean Azraels handkerchief, or to just buy him a new one. Stiffly, she turned to him and started working on his arm, dabbing at the bloodied area.
“I...this probably isn’t the best of times to ask, but...” she sighed. “Who did they think you were?”