The Breton had been training all day. She wanted to rest yet Aela and Farkas wouldn’t allow her more than a ten minute rests before resuming the training. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of physical exertion. Her hands were meant to delicately handle era old tombs, not swing a sword like a barbarian.
Yet when the was a beginning to set the two Companions called it a day. Ariella ached and wanted to just collapse, which apparently she was entitled to do for the next few hours until Dinner was prepared.
In the whelp room she fell onto a bed burying her face in her pillow. As she lay there with her whole body aching after a few moments she found herself beginning to cry.
She never had been much of a crier but right now it was all she seemed capable to doing.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to find comfort in books and intellectual discussion. She wanted to be surrounded by people she could write tombs on not people she could sum up by writing their name followed by the word smash.
She yearned for the comforts of a library, where the smell of parchment would welcome her home and she would be comfortable, not aching and groaning on a bed harder than stone. She wanted to stay up until her fingers were blackened with ink and the night candle had been long extinguished as her studies kept her company on her sleepless nights.
As she silently cried she began to wonder what she was doing here.
A scholar certainly had no place here yet Aela and Farkas seemed convinced she belonged and just needed training to realise her potential. The only potential it seemed she had though when it came to a sword was hitting herself.
She was hopeless with a sword and couldn’t pull a bow back to it’s full length. She hated it here and wanted to run away. She would gladly let herself be taken by frost wraiths, ice trolls or whatever creatures Aela had told her about. As she began to think more and more about just walking out the door and never coming back again she became convinced that Aela and Farkas trained her so hard today so she would be stuck in Jorrvaskr for the night.
She had no will to move and any attempt to run would fail, she was sure. They had imprisoned her here, the chains being her own bodies fragility.
Her tears dried after a while but she didn’t move. She couldn’t sleep but she was relaxed and comfortable.
“Whelp.” She heard a voice say from the door. It wasn’t one she recognised, at first she thought it was Farkas yet it wasn’t as deep as his. She looked up and saw what looked like Farkas at the door.
She knew it was Farkas’ twin yet couldn’t recall his name, she was not sure they had been introduced. She sat up properly when he uncrossed his arms from the doorway.
“Aela told me to give you this.” He tossed a red bottle at her, which she fumbled with before it fell on the bed. He scoffed and walked away closing the door behind him.
The man had a slightly smaller build than Farkas and Ariella found herself wondering if Farkas just trained more or if perhaps there was another reason. She decided that knowing this harsh land it was probably an illness of some degree. Either way he was rude and she found it hard to meet his eye; he was definitely the most disagreeable companion she had come into contact with.
Sleepless - Part 3/?
Yet when the was a beginning to set the two Companions called it a day. Ariella ached and wanted to just collapse, which apparently she was entitled to do for the next few hours until Dinner was prepared.
In the whelp room she fell onto a bed burying her face in her pillow. As she lay there with her whole body aching after a few moments she found herself beginning to cry.
She never had been much of a crier but right now it was all she seemed capable to doing.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to find comfort in books and intellectual discussion. She wanted to be surrounded by people she could write tombs on not people she could sum up by writing their name followed by the word smash.
She yearned for the comforts of a library, where the smell of parchment would welcome her home and she would be comfortable, not aching and groaning on a bed harder than stone. She wanted to stay up until her fingers were blackened with ink and the night candle had been long extinguished as her studies kept her company on her sleepless nights.
As she silently cried she began to wonder what she was doing here.
A scholar certainly had no place here yet Aela and Farkas seemed convinced she belonged and just needed training to realise her potential. The only potential it seemed she had though when it came to a sword was hitting herself.
She was hopeless with a sword and couldn’t pull a bow back to it’s full length. She hated it here and wanted to run away. She would gladly let herself be taken by frost wraiths, ice trolls or whatever creatures Aela had told her about. As she began to think more and more about just walking out the door and never coming back again she became convinced that Aela and Farkas trained her so hard today so she would be stuck in Jorrvaskr for the night.
She had no will to move and any attempt to run would fail, she was sure. They had imprisoned her here, the chains being her own bodies fragility.
Her tears dried after a while but she didn’t move. She couldn’t sleep but she was relaxed and comfortable.
“Whelp.” She heard a voice say from the door. It wasn’t one she recognised, at first she thought it was Farkas yet it wasn’t as deep as his. She looked up and saw what looked like Farkas at the door.
She knew it was Farkas’ twin yet couldn’t recall his name, she was not sure they had been introduced. She sat up properly when he uncrossed his arms from the doorway.
“Aela told me to give you this.” He tossed a red bottle at her, which she fumbled with before it fell on the bed. He scoffed and walked away closing the door behind him.
The man had a slightly smaller build than Farkas and Ariella found herself wondering if Farkas just trained more or if perhaps there was another reason. She decided that knowing this harsh land it was probably an illness of some degree. Either way he was rude and she found it hard to meet his eye; he was definitely the most disagreeable companion she had come into contact with.