#he definitely finds illarion amusing tho and doesnt mind talking to him

[pitofghosts]

Two more days passed, long and dull and uneventful, until they happened across a path in the woods, and following it, across a town. It was hardly anything, just houses, a temple, a small farm, a tavern, and two stores, but it was more than they’d seen since leaving Tobovo. People milled about, a few of them sparing smiles at weary travellers, but mostly, they went ignored. Kai Fen was thankful for that.

Illarion stopped as they neared the tavern. Kai Fen and Michil paused next to him, watched as he swung his bag off his back and down onto one arm. He reached inside and shuffled about until pulling out his coin pouch. “Hey Diachkovsky, what d’ya drink?”

Michil’s face lit up. “Are you buying?”

Illarion made a show of stopping short, dropping his shoulders, and raising his eyes to look at Michil. It was a look that Kai Fen interpreted as saying “Really?”

“Mmmn…. then whatever’s cheapest.” Michil shrugged. “Arak, usually.”

Illarion nodded. “I’ll grab you a bottle, tell you what you owe me.” He spared a look at Kai Fen. “You want something?”

It’d be irresponsible to buy it. He should save his money.

“Medovukha,” he sighed. “Bring me a receipt.” He didn’t trust Illarion not to rip him off.

Illarion clicked his tongue twice against his teeth. Then he was off, heading to the tavern while still trying to get his arm through the other side of his backpack. Kai Fen watched him until Michil chuckled, shook his head in what looked like amusement.

“What a guy,” he murmured. He looked down at Kai Fen. “Wanna see what’s at the store?”

The answer was not a whole lot. As Kai Fen poked through the grains and seeds and animal feeds, he tried not to be too disappointed. He shouldn’t expect a lot from places like this, but he always did. He was just so entirely sick of their food rations. It was all the same thing day in and day out and he wanted for anything different at all. He supposed the medovukha would offer some relief.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” the shop owner asked in Vwosi.

“Food,” he answered. He racked his brain for the Vwosi word for spices, ended up just sending panicked glances around for Michil until managing to catch his eye. Mercifully, he came to rescue. “Spices,” he murmured to him, and Michil translated the word to the shop owner. Kai Fen repeated the word under his breath.

Spetsii. He’d have to remember that.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @snowdropwrites @woodhouse-jay @leave-her-a-tome @starrywritingg @theforgottencoolkid @oscarfuckingwilde @purpleshadows1989 @writings-of-a-narwhal