'can you not honor Ermir in memory alone Eir? This is like, man, savage...' Yule had still done what his Dresmondi requested, freezing and creating a sharp ice sickle but he did approve of her etching and cutting into her forearm, "don't tell me how to honor my friend cockknocker," Eirwen telepathically countered as she carved a backwards 'e' into her arm which was incorrect to the first 'E' in Ermir's name but so far she had already spelled 'Erme' into her flesh. The firet 'r's was backwards as well. The 'm' was larger than the capital 'E'. Blood was running down her arm and dripping onto the ground.

As Yule paced and Eirwen sliced into her arm (making little to no faces when it did hurt; it mostly didn't hurt to her) she was starting to carve the last 'r' (also backwards) neither of them were aware someone was approaching them so when they did start to speak Eirwen stood up hiding her arm like a child who had been caught doing something they shouldn't behind her back dropping the shard of ice.

Embric. Aine. Eirwen nodded, "I am and he is," verbally confirming he was right about who they were, hurt and sadness and the reminder of the void Ermir left since he was killed flashed across her features almost...almost making her want to cry..., "since I didn't get to say good bye to him, I was just leaving myself a reminder," she hesitantly showed her work to the man.

The perspectives of many of the younger Dresmondi who roamed the streets of Elderkeep often did not align with Embric’s own outlook. A product of growing up in a world that taught them only violence and turmoil, some of them had a couple loose screws, and Eirwen, according to Ermir, had a few more than most. Even as he wondered what she hid behind her back when she turned to face him, he offered a smile and said, “It’s very nice to meet you both.”

Then she revealed her arm, and Embric, despite the foreknowledge he had, couldn’t help the shock the jolted through him. He did his best to keep it from reaching his expression.

“At least she’s not carving it into someone else,” Aine pointed out to him, ever helpful.

Blue eyes moved from the name partially cut into her skin to Eirwen’s face, and he could see that the hurt and grief that flickered across her features was real. Each in their own unique way, both of them had lost someone they’d cared about on the night that Hiram had killed Ermir. A point of mutual understanding despite a world of differences.

“Ermir would be very touched to know you cared so deeply for him,” Embric said, voice quiet, though he privately doubted that Ermir would have found her chosen method of paying her respects particularly thrilling. Slowly, giving her the opportunity to see what he was doing, he reached out with a hand and, if she didn’t pull object, would lightly take hold of her wrist. Gently he would tilt her arm toward him to better look at the wounds that she had carved into herself. “I do think he would have been concerned about you hurting yourself, though, because he cared about you, too. He wouldn’t want you to be in pain.”

"Existence is pain Embric," she replied very gloomy, she hadn't pulled away from his touch, but the pain from her mutilated skin made her close her hand into a tight fist, "Pain is the only thing that exists for me...for us...and if he was here I wouldn't have to be doing this...I'd be plucking chickens and we'd be eating dinner after serving all these ungrateful fucks at the Last Call...," she was crying and she didn't even realize it, body shaking but she pressed on, "he kept me sane...ish...he knew how to hold me when I have a freak out," she looked at Embric with dark green eyes and what came out of her mouth was spoken low enough that just the four of them would hear, "Ermir meant more to me than any Eldouir," then she thought about Yeva and what she meant to her, immediately feeling guilty she slapped a hand over her mouth staring wild eyed at Embric.

Existence is pain, Eirwen stated, and Embric found that he couldn’t disagree with that statement. In Elderkeep, survival only beget more hardship, and a girl Eirwen’s age would truly only know life in this horrible prison. He watched her fingers curl into a fist, noticed the trembling in her arm, and looked up to see tears running down her cheeks. On Xanthe, he might have reached up to wipe them away, but the girl whose arm he held now was far more volatile. Intending to offer little more than a listening ear, Embric had opted to simply let her say her piece, but her final, whispered statement had him pausing once more.

Careful to keep his expression pleasantly neutral, he inclined his head slightly in the face of her wide-eyed alarm to acknowledge what she’d said. “I imagine that sentiment would mean a lot to him were he able to hear it,” He commented idly. It was a dangerous one to voice, but an understandable one, too. “I can tell he meant a lot to you, Eirwen, and I remember him saying you helped him out a lot at the tavern.” Gently, he guided the conversation back to somewhat safer ground. “Did you two often pluck chickens and eat dinner together after serving all the ungrateful fucks at the Last Call?” His lips quirked slightly upward as he asked the question. “It sounds like it would have been quite enjoyable.”

And even more crushing blows came with Embrics simple statement, a realization that she'd never get to tell him anything ever again. Not about her first intimate encounter with Yeva, how much he meant and it made her shouldera drop knowing now she was crying and nothing would stop it.

"it was some of the most peaceful and beautiful moments of my little life," she choked out furiously wiping away the tears, "how did it happen? Why did Tazmin kill him?"

Eirwen’s crying grew heavier, and Embric considered her. Ermir had cared about this girl, who wounded herself in remembrance of a friend who would have been horrified at the thought, whose behavior was more Eldouir than Dresmondi. By Eirwen’s own admission, the late tavern keeper would have known what to do, how to hold her, to keep her from falling to pieces, but in this, Embric was just as lost as the next stranger over. Did he owe it to her to try?

Did he owe it to Ermir to try? It was, after all, Embric’s fault that he was no longer alive to watch over Eirwen himself.

Embric took a step forward, bringing up a hand to rest on her other shoulder - slowly, so she could move away if she wanted. “Eirwen,” He said, voice quiet. “Are you sure you want to know? Will this knowledge help you feel better or make you more upset? I will tell you what I can, if you want, but they are both gone, and neither had a pleasant end.”

When he put his hand on her shoulder Eirwen wrapped her hands around Embric and he wouldn't be able to pull away, she buried her face in his armpit and cried. However she shook her head because she didn't want to know. Eirwen would eventually pull away when her breakdown was over which always seemed to shift on a whim.

Finally she peeled herself away from Embric her eyes were dry but bloodshot and red rimmed from constantly rubbing them.

"what's going to happen to the Last Call?"

When he put his hand on her shoulder, Embric hadn’t expected Eirwen to curl into him, but with the experience of a man who had seen two daughters into, if not through, their teens, he was quick to adapt. In a less distraught version of the hug she had foisted upon him, he brought his own arms around her and provided what quiet comfort he could. He thought of Xanthe, then, and wished he could do the same for her.

Eventually, Eirwen pulled away, eyes dry but bloodshot. When she asked after The Last Call, Embric answered easily, “The others will keep it open. After all, where would we enjoy good food and drink if not at the best tavern in Elderkeep?” A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of his lip. “Have you spoken with Elaxi about continuing to help there? I can’t imagine she would turn down another set of hands.”

"she said I could but I don't think she likes me or trusts me," Eirwen shrugged, either way she was staying at the Last Call. She looked at Embric with pitiful eyes, "do you think I can be good? Or become a good person?"

Embric offered a small smile. “Elaxi is a tough woman,” He said quietly, thoughts turning down the familiar path of differences between Ermir and one of his successors. Where the former had enough compassion and grace for every Dresmondi in Elderkeep, the latter was far more limited in her empathy. Embric could hardly hold it against her when he was the same way. “If she’s letting you stay and help, then she likes and trusts you enough.”

The expression on Eirwen’s face as she asked her next questions had him reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. Holding her gaze, he nodded. “I do,” He said simply, resolutely. “But what I think isn’t as important as what you believe. What do you think, Eirwen?”