Sylfir and Ivan arrive at the Weary Wanderer. He opens the ramshackle door and gestures for her to go inside first, following her as they make their way to the bar. Sylfir's nostrils are filled with the rich scent of hot stew and freshly baked savoury pies, stark against the usual stench of ale.

It's fairly busy at this time, even without its usual cohort of travelling adventurers and merchants, and it takes Lorys a moment to realise she has a couple of new customers.

But as Sylfir leans on the bar, the half-elf turns her sharp golden eyes toward her, then Ivan, a grin curling her lips. For a moment, Sylfir swears she can see a hint of wryness in her expression, but it's subtle enough that she can excuse it away.

"What will it be for the two of you?" Lorys says.

"Your finest beer—something brewed from farther afield," Ivan says with a broad grin and a lilting voice.

"Ivan!"

"Relax," he says, "I'll buy you dinner."

Sylfir huffs laughter through her nostrils as her eyebrows arch. "Who said we were having dinner?"

"What, you're not hungry?"

She shrugs. "Elves don't have to eat as much as humans do, especially not after spending most of the day in a stuffy church library."

"A shame... I'll just have to repay you some other way, then."

Sylfir shakes her head. He's shameless. Humming laughter draws her attention back to Lorys, who looks at her with bright eyes.

"And I'm guessing you'll have a cider?"

Sylfir nods.

"Love a customer with a usual. Makes my life a lot easier," the half-elf says, shooting a playful glare at Ivan, who simply shrugs. When Lorys leaves to pour their drinks, he turns toward Sylfir, though he says nothing, only looking at her through smiling eyes. She almost asks him what's on his mind when he tilts his head, his eyes focusing on something behind her.

She follows his gaze to a table—the one Khaliss prefers, sheltered in a dark corner, though she does not currently occupy it. It's one of the few tables that are available, and when she turns her gaze back to him, she notices the urgency in his eyes. It's something she feels, too—she worries that, as the seconds pass, someone else might take it.

"One cider and one fire ale."

Sylfir winces as the words fall from Lorys' lips. Fire ale is a beverage brewed in Waterdeep, the City of Splendors, and nothing there comes cheap. She'll have to cough up at least five gold pieces, not including the cost of her cider. Still, she is a woman of her word. She reaches into her pocket...

And Ivan flicks one gold piece, then another, and another, all in Lorys' direction until he's five gold coins poorer. The smiling barkeep catches every one in her delicate hands as Sylfir looks on in silent shock. Then, he throws a couple of silver pieces in her direction, and the tab for both their drinks is settled.

"What are you doing?"

Ivan takes their drinks and looks at her sidelong, a mischievous grin on his face, but he never answers her. Instead, he leaves the bar, heading for the empty table, knowing that she'll follow.

She does, of course. He carves out a path for her between patrons, weaving through occupied tables until he reaches his destination and places the drinks down, taking a seat. She takes her seat opposite him, sheltered in the dark corner, looking in at the rest of the tavern.

"I owe you five gold pieces," she says.

"It's nothing."

Sylfir laughs. "Nothing? I had no idea you were so well off."

Ivan smiles, shaking his head. "I'm not, but I would never put a price on your company."

Sylfir stifles a giggle. "Sweet-talker."

"Hmm, you know me so well."

"Actually, I'm not so sure I do." She takes her drink, dragging it across the table toward her, but never lifts it to her lips. Instead, she fingers the rim of the glass, watching Ivan's eyes as he watches her nimble fingers play. Soon, they're looking up at her again, a beautiful shade of gold-tinted blue in the warm candlelight of the tavern, and she smiles. "I think it's your turn to tell me a story."

It's the first time she sees him grow bashful since they first met in this tavern. His lips curl upward in a wan smile as he fiddles with his own drink, too. "I'm not sure there's much to tell—I've lived here my whole life in the same old house, doing much the same thing."

Sylfir shakes her head. "I know you don't work all day—that would be enough to drive anyone insane. There must be something you can tell me..."

All of a sudden he seems tongue-tied, and it occurs to her that maybe no one has ever shown an interest in him beyond the night of pleasure he offers. The travellers who come through here won't linger long, and should one catch his eye, he'll only have one night to woo her—two, if he's lucky. He won't waste time talking about himself.

The thought chastens her, stealing the fire from their connection, but replacing it with something... softer. Something steadier. Now, she uses it to guide him into foreign territory.

"The High Forest is my home, but it is vast, and I don't know every part of it. The woods that border your village are new to me, and yet I have only seen it ravaged by an unnatural blight. I want to see it from your eyes, in a time when it was healthy."

His eyes widen, a hint of surprise mingled with confusion buried within their stormy blue. "You do?"

She nods, a gentle smile curling her lips.

He scratches his head. "All right... well, there's a lot of green..."

Sylfir laughs. "You can do better than that."

"I'm not finished yet," Ivan says, laughing, too. "Lots of thick underbrush, despite the dense canopy—I can't speak for the rest of the High Forest, but I always thought that was strange."

"Hardy plants, I suppose. You'd be surprised by some species' survivability," Sylfir says.

Ivan hums. "It always made hunting difficult—the smaller creatures especially. Lots of cover for them to hide in."

"But not for someone with eyes as sharp as yours, surely?" Her tone is only slightly teasing. "If you can beat an elf..."

Ivan grins. "I'm good, but not that good."

She laughs. "Such humility. Tell me: what's your favourite creature to hunt?"

He seems to ponder the question for a while, his eyes darting this way and that, though she knows he's scanning the corners of his mind more than the corners of the tavern.

"Deer, maybe? Or boar," he says.

"Oh? The boar is a dangerous animal to hunt."

"That makes a successful hunt all the sweeter."

Sylfir hums with laughter. "Very true."

"Always good to know how to climb a tree before you hunt one, though. I've had my fair share of close calls with them."

Sylfir perks up. "Now that sounds like a story."

Ivan laughs, but it's nervous again, and he turns his head away. She knows he does it to stay composed; she does that, too.

"I was no more than a child. My mother had taken Erik and I out hunting—"

"Only you and Erik?"

Ivan nods. "Artur doesn't like to hunt. He loves animals too much."

Sylfir hums in understanding as she recalls his fond reunion with Tom when they first met.

"We were deep into the forest before we spotted our first boar, though we had intended to hunt deer that day. She took the lead and whispered to us to remain quiet... but one of us must have stepped on a twig or ruffled a pile of dead leaves or something. Either way, we made enough noise for it to notice us."

Sylfir regards him with a knowing gaze. "One of you?"

Ivan hums with laughter. "Okay... maybe it was me."

She laughs, though her humour soon gives way to curiosity again. "So, what did it do?"

"Well, it was already injured when we found it, which meant it felt threatened..."

Sylfir's eyes go wide as she waits for him to continue, but a bemused smile plays on his lips. For a moment, she thinks this is all an elaborate charade— some kind of trap designed to make her blush again... but something about the look in his eyes seems genuine.

"You're really that interested?" he says, "I know you've hunted boars before—you already know how they behave."

"This isn't about how the boar behaved, Ivan—it's about how you behaved... or are you too embarrassed to tell me?" A teasing grin takes shape on her lips and, for the first time, he blushes.

"Just... bear in mind I was a child, all right?"

"I can do that!" Sylfir says, maybe with a little too much excitement, but it seems to encourage rather than cow him, judging by the soft laughter that leaves his lips.

"It charged at us... and I might have let out a little scream... or maybe a big one. Erik's was absolutely earsplitting, though."

Giddy laughter spills from Sylfir's lips. "I can't imagine you screaming."

Ivan rolls his eyes, though his smile is good-natured. "You'll never hear anything like it from me now—my voice was cracking at the time. Anyway, we dropped our bows and scattered for the nearest trees, but our mother stood her ground, exchanging her bow for a spear."

"Good choice," Sylfir says.

Ivan nods. "Agreed—specifically made for hunting boar, too, with the wings behind the blade. While me and my brother clambered up rough bark, she met it head on with that weapon and landed a fatal blow. I watched her wrestle with it as it tried to gore itself to reach her, but she was resolute..." His eyes grow distant, then pan downwards. It's the first time Sylfir has seen him try to make himself small. "She was the strongest person I ever knew."

Her heart pangs to hear the delicacy of his voice. She knows that kind of pain well. Silence falls between them, and she lets it linger for a moment.

"My mother was a fighter, too."

Ivan flicks his gaze up to her, broken from his solemn reverie.

"A druid, to be specific, and the reason I became one myself. While it was mostly my father who taught me how to hunt, she had a hand in such things, too."

A wan smile returns to Ivan's face. "Sounds like our mothers would have gotten along..."

Sylfir hums. "Indeed, although maybe not while mine was in wildshape—her favoured animal form was the bear, you see..."

Ivan laughs as he takes her meaning. "The bear rug. That was a rare exception—we don't get many around here, so, much like the boar, we stumbled on it accidentally."

"I hope you didn't climb a tree when you laid eyes on it," Sylfir says, humming with laughter.

"Gods, no. We knew bears could climb by then."

Sylfir tilts her head like a curious cat. "So, what happened?"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Ivan says, shaking his head. "We're even now—if you want to hear it, you have to tell me about one of your hunts."

Sylfir huffs, but soon relents with a curious tilt of her head. "I suppose that's only fair... but it seems we'll need more than drinks if we're going to regale each other with our exploits."

"Now she wants dinner."

"Relax," Sylfir says, "I'll pay for it."

She gives him a cheeky grin as she rises from her seat, and he can't help but laugh at her gentle mockery. He stands, too, and together they return to the bar to order.