As it always had been, the Last Call was a welcome refuge of warmth that chased away the merciless chill of Hiems. Adding insult to injury, a blanket of snow had fallen across Elderkeep overnight, and the lingering winds had seen Embric pulling the hood of his cloak closer around his face as he journeyed through the sprawling prison. The white of Aine’s feathers made her nearly invisible against the layer of white that rested on the roof of the tavern, where she perched while peering down at her human with a vague air of judgement. Embric sent a silent, sarcastic apology that not all of them could fly as fast as she could.

Only recently had such quips started reappearing in his life.

When he entered the establishment, the gyrfalcon resting on his shoulder, he lowered his hood and made his way to the bar like usual, where he ordered his usual - though he could only wish he was greeted and served by the usual person, too. He was just about to settle down at the bar when Aine caught his attention.

“There’s a girl over there looks like she’s waving at you, Embric.”

Who? Embric didn’t know many girls who would merely sit there and wave if they saw him. Turning slightly, he saw a young woman whom he did not recognize seated at a table up against a wall, and indeed, she seemed to be gesturing him over. He glanced around him to see if she could have wanted to catch someone else’s attention, but he seemed the likely target. That was… odd. I suppose we should see what she wants.

She looked young - young enough to remind him of another young lady - Embric noted as he made his way over to the table, drink in hand. In a silent question, he gestured to the open chair across from her, and if she indeed wanted him to sit with her, he would pull it out and do so. Aine would move to perch beside him on the table, head tilted slightly as her dark eyes peered at the curious little dyr.

“Hello there,” Embric said, tone polite even if it held hints of the usual wariness with which strangers in Elderkeep greeted each other. With one hand, he gestured toward the jerboa. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Might I ask who the two of you are?”

“Well then, Aydin and Ember, it’s nice to meet you both,” Embric said with a small smile and leaned back in his seat, ostensibly relaxed. In lieu of introducing himself, he took a casual sip of his drink and ran a hand gently down Aine’s back as she watched the jerboa hop around on the table beside his human.

The gyrfalcon turned her head slightly to look at him with one eye. ”I had just preened those feathers before you dragged us out into the snow,” She told him disapprovingly. “And now you’re getting them even dirtier with your hand.”

Embric hummed lightly. I think you’re scaring Ember. He had noticed how Aydin’s dyr had moved from the open space on the table to staying close by his human’s side.

“If only you were so easy to scare,” Aine grumbled in response, though she made an attempt to not watch quite so predatorily. “Maybe you’d actually listen to me more.”

I listen to you plenty, Aine.

The sound of Aydin’s voice gave him a valid excuse to ignore his dyr’s rebuttal as he turned his attention to the young woman sitting across from him. He had wondered why she had waved him over - now he knew. Funnily enough, he wasn’t particularly in the mood to discuss it either.

“I can’t say I blame them,” Embric said with a shrug, tone neutral. “I think many people in Elderkeep take each day as it comes. I’ve heard the rumors as well, and if they are correct, then they serve as a stark reminder of mortality that I expect most find unpleasant to consider.”

It was simultaneously amazing and depressing how far a little kindness could go in a place like Elderkeep. As it did with many others, Embric’s own calm demeanor had put Aydin at ease, but while a more altruistic man might have cared more for her peace of mind, he placed more value in the relative safety that came with it. A more relaxed stranger was less likely to harm him.

At her question, Embric raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his drink. “Escape? I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you mean.” With a touch of mild confusion, the words came easily, and nothing in his demeanor changed from his state of apparent relaxation. “We are both seated here together, are we not? So unless you consider yourself to have escaped, I do not…” His voice trailed off for a moment before he connected the pieces and realization struck. “Ah, escaped the cold.”

With a slight quirk of the lips, he looked at Aydin as if she had made some clever little joke and tapped his fingers on the side of his mug. How many times had he pulled the same truck on Xanthe? He fell back now on those countless years of running verbal circles around one young woman to pull off the misdirection on the other one seated before him. “I will admit, I’m not entirely confident we can attribute the snow to Queen Adeline, though I expect she would be flattered by the compliment.” They may have all been different flavors of the same unpredictable danger, but five years in this nightmare of an existence had taught Embric a little bit about survival: at the end of the day, all of the Eldouir had egos that needed stroking.

Aine had turned to eye Ember as he caught her attention with the apology and explanation. Silently, she relayed the words to Embric, who considered them briefly, before telling her what safely generic advice to offer. Nowhere in Elderkeep would ever be safe from the redheads who killed the Dresmondi loyal to them as willingly as they killed the ones who weren’t. “There are two of you,” She finally said to the jerboa. “If you use that to your advantage and keep your head down, perhaps you will be able to avoid the Eldouir and their soldiers altogether.”

Embric merely let out a non-committal noise of acknowledgement as Aydin spoke aloud sentiments that invited nothing but trouble. She was young and far less cautious than she ought to be if she was willing to share such thoughts with a stranger. And though she had sought him out to ask after some rumors, he was, indeed, very much a stranger.

In another life, perhaps such trust and naivety would be forgivable, but this was Elderkeep. No one was safe, and people who hadn’t learned that brought with them far too much trouble. Embric had the safety of both his and Ermir’s children to consider.

“I’m surprised you remember,” He responded instead to her question. Though he took on the faint air of an old man shaking his head in disbelief at the qualities of youth, his tone remained as mild and even as before. “You have a dyr, but you look young.” Embric, in contrast, felt every bit his age - which was old enough that each generation of Dresmondi appeared younger and younger each year. “How old were you when the Medallion was lost?”

Eighteen. Embric did the calculations in his head, but he needn’t have bothered: he already knew that the dates would put her near the same age as Xanthe. Still, to be so young, to have barely known the world before Coheed and the Eldouir — it was, perhaps, both a blessing and the curse. Unlike him, they did not have the perspective of age that would let them see so clearly how their lives should have been, but with their youth, they lost, too, the chance to truly live their lives before Dresmond was lost.

At twenty-five, Embric had a little family, a wagon, and a caravan to call home. At twenty-five, Xanthe and Aydin had Elderkeep and its parade of daily nightmares.

“It was an uncertain time,” He agreed, as if the uncertain times had ended. And it did feel like a long time ago. Everything felt like a long time ago. Easily, calmly, he continued the conversation. “Do you remember much from before then? You must, if you were eighteen.”