A few night's away

[Cecily Rambolt]

Traveling by portkey was never her favorite mode of transportation. The tall slender woman landed agilely on her feet and set off on the flagstone path that was dearly in need of a trim. Her soft soled shoes barely made any rustle at all in the grass, her long cloak swept the ground and her ankles as she made her way past a poorly lit sign.

She held her hands halfway out from her body, absorbing the night air and magics through her skin. The ground called out to her, or several spirits did. She couldn't discern which. Moments later, she stood in front of the inn she'd been invited to.

"Ah, I see,"she murmured, her green eyes narrowing.

As she entered the Skirrid Mountain Inn, a cold gust of wind knocked into her chest, nearly unbalancing her. Cecily braced her hands in front of her and murmured a protective spell. The air around her instantly warmed, she put her hands down and entered, letting the hood of her cloak fall back. Her blonde curls cascaded down her back, giving her the appearance of a much younger woman.

She looked around until she saw the innkeeper, making her way toward him.

 

[Tom Cadwal]

"Ahh hello me dear," Tom Cadwal limped across the room to greet his newest arrival. "Tis good to see you. My name is Tom Cadwal, Old Tom to everybody around heres. Will it just be you tonight miss?" Tom was a tall and solemn looking old man with devilish eyes. He enjoyed lots of laughter, a good smoke, and plenty of fresh ale. His twinkling eyes took in the young woman's form and beautiful hair. He sighed wistfully. His Agatha had had hair like that, God rest her soul.

 

[Cecily Rambolt]

Cecily paused when the innkeeper approached her. "Good even, Tom,"she said, smiling warmly at him. Something about his demeanor reached out to her, making her feel comforted.

"I have a guest who will be joining me for a later supper but I'll be staying overnight alone." She saw an older woman standing behind the bar, waving gently at her. Her hair was styled old fashionedly, her face was lined yet still beautiful. Cecily smiled and nodded back.

"You have a beautiful inn here, Tom."

 

[Tom Cadwal]

Tom looked over his shoulder and saw one of his patrons sitting at the far end of the bar. Friendly lass, he thought, acknowledging Sir Barnabas. He was a loner, an elderly gent like hisself. His back was turned to Old Tom at the mo'.

"That there is Sir Barnabas." Tom said quietly with a friendly smile. "Owns a track of land down the road. His house was quite grand in it's day, but without the youngun's around anymore things in this part have gone in disrepairs."

"'Nough of that though,"he said rubbing his old hands together. "Let's get you settled in. Right this way,"Old Tom gave a small bow and held out his arm. He led her towards an old stairway.

 

[Cecily Rambolt]

Cecily nodded, taking Old Tom's preferred arm with a soft smile. He was a refreshing older gentleman. She looked back over her shoulder and the older woman was no longer sitting there. Had she even been there? Cecily wondered. Perhaps the attack was causing her undo stress. She worried about those poor girls. She hoped they were alright.

Her thoughts were interupted when she looked up the stairs. A loud gasp expelled from her, she put her hand over her mouth. Her throat felt tight.

"How horrible,"she whispered, clutching at Tom's arm. Realizing what she was doing, she forced herself to relax.

 

[Tom Cadwal]

"Aya," Tom said in his thick accent. "Don't be worrying about that me dear." He patted her hand and continued to lead her up the stairs. "Our inn has quite a colorful history.
Ye see, this here is where they had the courthouse long ago. They'd lead the condemned from that room there,"he pointed towards an old closed door, "to that stairway there,"he pointed to the beam nearly over their heads. "They'd rope 'em up and toss the poor souls over the side. Over one hundred and eighty perished like that here. Tragic, very tragic." He clucked his tongue and then they were at the room he was putting her in.

"Here we are,"he let go of her arm after giving her hand a light squeeze and opened her door. "It's quite cozy inside. I think ye'll find it accommadating.

 

[Cecily Rambolt]

Cecily felt on edge, the air was very thick and she felt creeped out, even without Tom's ghastly story. She walked into the room and did find it cozy.

There was a beautiful four poster bed.

And a cozy, very grand sitting room. It reminded her strongly of visits to her nan.

"Thank you, Tom. It's a very beautiful room. I think I'd like a nap before my visitor arrives for dinner." She smiled at him, feeling heavy on her feet.

 

[Tom Cadwal]

"Certainly me dear," Tom said, patting her shoulder. Poor lass. Looks like she could do with a good nap.

"I'll be right downstairs at the bar when ye wake. I'll have a nice hot supper waiting for you and your friend." He gave a small bow and left the room, quietly closing the door.

 

[Cecily Rambolt]

Cecily sighed and scrubbed her face with her hands. It felt good to be alone and the bed called out to her. She took off her heavy traveling cloak and stood by the old stone fireplace, rubbing her arms to stave off the chill that'd permeated her body since she'd set foot on this land. Turning, she toed off her shoes and laid down on the four poster bed, snuggling under the soft, worn bedclothes. Not two minutes later she was asleep.

In her dream, she saw a heavy mist, then shadows that seemed to dance within the cloudy haze. She walked forward, her hand shielding her eyes, calling out to whomever was in the mist. She heard whispers, softer, then growing louder and louder. They seemed to be all around her. Her heart beat faster and harder and it was hard to breathe. She cried out as two hands shot from the mist and grabbed her painfully by the arms. She looked up into dark, familiar eyes and let out a terrifying scream.

"No!" Cecily sat straight up in bed, sweat rolling from her forehead. She kicked off the covers and sat on the side of the bed, her head in her hands. Why did she keep dreaming that same nightmare?

A knock on the door interupted her troubled thoughts.

 

[Amalie Cadwal]

Amalie Cadwal opened the door and came in with a stack of freshly laundered towels and sheets. "Allo my dear," she said warmly, her accent thick and welcoming. "Linens aplenty for you here,"she said, setting them down on the old trunk. She folded her hands together over her waist at looked the girl over.
Aya, she was a thin one. Needed fattening up she did. If only her dear old Tom would open his mind to the hereafter, Amalie would be able to tell him herself.

"Supper's ready, gel. From the looks of you, you could do well with me fish stew. Been simmering all day, it has. We'll get that peaked look off your face in no time."

 

[Cecily Rambolt]

Cecily slid slowly to the end of the bed and let her feet touch the floor. She busied herself putting her shoes on and sighed softly. "Are you Tom's wife?" she asked softly, her green eyes rising to fix on the ghost in front of her. She'd heard of powerful poltergeist, but never ones who did daily chores voluntarily.

 

[Amalie Cadwal]

"Aya, I am." Amalie smiled sadly at the younger woman. "Slipped away one night in my sleep," she sighed. "I couldn't leave my Tom, had too much to do here. Poor dear."
She stared off into space wistfully then shook her head. "Enough about me, young gel, what about you? What brings you to Skirrid Inn on a night such as this?"

 

[Edward Stanton]

Edward Stanton entered the pub, roughly opening and closing the door. His eyes narrowed and looked about the rustic room before honing in on the shop keep. He went to the bar and spoke with the barman. "Excuse me, I'm to meet a young lady here tonight." He showed him her name on the bottom of the letter she'd written to him. Edward was careful. He didn't want to draw attention.

 

[Tom Cadwal]

Tom polished an old mug when the man came in. He was a rough looking sort, old Tom thought to hisself. Reminded him of Tom's old crew back in the day. He nodded to the gent and politely read the name on the note, peering through his thick reading glasses.
"Have a seat, sir, I'll send someone upstairs to gather the young lady."

 

[Edward Stanton]

Edward shrugged off his wet cloak and slung it over the back of a chair at a table then sat down. His square jaw was clenched tight at the thought of seeing Cecily again. His dark eyebrows clashed together as he stared out into the ink black night.

 

[Cecily Rambolt]

Cecily paused, unsure of what to share. "I'm on my way home to visit my parents for holiday. I have an old family friend who lives near and this was the best way to meet."

 

[Amalie Cadwal]

Amalie opened her mouth to reply when her face went blank. "Ah I see. Handsome one he is." Her face relaxed and she faced Cecily. "Your family friend is here. Ye should freshen up in the loo. I'll have the stew ready." She floated out the way she'd came.

 

[Cecily Rambolt]

Cecily watched Amalie leave. Her stay here was turning out more weird than she'd anticipated. A husband who couldn't see his ghost wife? She put that problem from her mind and went into the bathroom, splashed water on her face and ran a brush through her hair.

She tripped lightly down the stairs, ignoring the shiver down her spine under the swinging noose. She stopped at the last stair and spotted Edward sitting at a table. He had more lines in his face and he looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. This hurt Cecily's heart. He'd always been so carefree.

"Hello Edward," she said softly, approaching his table.

 

[Edward Stanton]

Edward stood up and took Cecily's hand in his, kissing both her cheeks. "Hello Cis," he smirked, using his childhood nickname for her.

 

[Cecily Rambolt]

Cecily wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, don't start on that!" she laughed. "Or I shall call you N-!" she drew out the first letter in his hated nickname.

 

[Edward Stanton]

His hand clamped gently on her mouth, his thin lips twitching in suppressed laughter. He looked down at her in mock anger. "Call me that, puss, and it's your collection of chocolate frog cards down in flames."

 

[Cecily Rambolt]

Cecily nodded, her green eyes solemn. When he took his hand away (sorry, godmod) she grinned impishly and leaned toward him so the locals wouldn't hear. "Ned."

 

[Edward Stanton]

Edward growled in his throat. "Poof. Gone. Smell that?" He moved his head around, sniffing the air. "Up in flames. Heard you'd just gotten Circe too." He held out a chair to seat her, a wolfish grin on his handsome face.

 

[Cecily Rambolt]

"All I smell, dear Ned," she said after she was safely seated, "is the delicious aroma of our dinner." The laughter died slowly from her lips. "How are you Edward?"

 

[Edward Stanton]

He leaned back in his chair, slinging an arm over the back. "Good, now that I've seen your pretty face. Business is going good, I've bought more adjoining land and expanded the horse farm." His eyes bored into hers, silver searching out green.