RAVEN’S REST, EEL. FEBRUARY 6TH, AT APPROX. 11:30 PM. CLOSED W/ @zjlark
There’s a quality of weariness just beginning to set in the circles under Dove’s eyes. She noticed it that morning, in a passing view of her reflection. She noticed it a second time over breakfast; an offer of coffee, unsolicited — “You’re lookin’ a bit tired. That’s all.” She stared at that cup of coffee for a long while, contemplating, dwelling. Half the drink was gone before she could stomach it no longer. A bit tired. The comment had a way of worming into her mind, making her awareness of the fatigue increase tenfold. Sleep had been impossible to come by since the incident on the train. The sun would set, and her mind would overwhelm with uncomfortable mid-night thoughts that made any worthwhile rest entirely unrealistic.
And yet, despite the way the lingering fatigue had begun to physically manifest, she finds herself milling about the entrance of the inn fighting the urge to retreat to her room. It was a trap, despite how inviting the bed seemed. There would be no rest for her, only staring into the dark until the sun rose and Bug began to stir beside her.
Almost mindlessly, Dove walks, back and forth across the wooden floor, listening as the planks squeak and groan beneath her steps. It is monotonous enough work to distract her mind from wandering, but rhythmic enough to tug down on her eyelids . . . And silly enough she was certain she looked a fool: dressed in her night clothes, padding back and forth, eyes half-lidded and yet intently focused on each step taken.
The only thing that breaks this pattern in an addition of foot steps entering the room. Dove raises her head, attempting to blink that tired feeling out of her eyes. “You’re up late.” She offers Lark a smile, small but genuine. “Trouble sleeping, or you just up wreaking havoc on Eel?” A joke, the smile pulling into a playful grin.
She crosses her arms across her chest, as though to warm herself from a non-existent draft. “I haven’t seen you since after we got off the train.” Dove was slowly beginning to piece together what else occurred during the robbery, through conversations had, and conversations overheard. “How are you? How was it?” Though genuine questions, Dove thinks that maybe, just maybe, if she can get Lark talking, any mention of her own time on the train may go unspoken. “I feel like we’ve got so much to catch up on.”