Private Between Saxons and Vikings

[Skeevi Merrill]

The unmissable escalation, the inevitability of more, froze Skeevi in their boots. (Zoronhed was the kind of place where people wore shoes indoors.) They caught the heavy scent of tension spiking.

But nobody drew down. In fact they all started leaving except the old lady — who was watching Skeevi instead of the intruders. Which said that everyone but Skeevi had received a firm signal, and whether Skeevi went along with them or stayed was...what, a test? Or just an option? Stick around and be someone the old lady, this sprawling family of strangers, could count on in a pinch?

Nobody said anything or moved to block Ven Shai Turi and Eryndor Thorne .

For reasons Skeevi couldn't pin down in words, Skeevi found themself taking the electroknucks from their pocket. Which kind of settled things.

 

[Eryndor Thorne]

Skeevi Merrill | Ven Shai Turi

There seemed to be a vibe in the air that even alcoholic Eryn was picking up on.

It felt like every smile had a knife behind it. It made his teeth itch and every battle-born instinct in his body on edge. He wondered if they could tackle a whole party of pissed-off Sith and mercenaries. Both of them were fairly solid, but there was such a thing as strength in numbers. They'd have to carve a way to the exit and-

The crowd went on its way and Ven was moving already.

"Y'know there is such a thing as overselling it." He hissed between his teeth to Ven as his eyes flicked backward to Skeevi. The girl was thin, more a sack of bones, but that didn't make him discount her.

In fact, it made him more concerned.

"Let's just have one more drink and then go, okay?"

He knew already it didn't matter what he said, but Eryn had to try at least.