Channeling Faerun

“And here we are. This is the place. Told ye that it isn't much to look at from the outside, but it's got a wood stove and a view of the river if ye don't mind climbing up to the roof. Still has the last tenant's things, mind, but we ken clear those out for ye if ye decide ye like it” The portly middle-aged human woman said to her prospective tenant, a slight woman dressed in what she assumed was traditional Calishite fashion. “Was an apothecary downstairs but they moved on last year, so ye'd have quiet if that's what you're after. Would ye like to go up and take a look?”

The woman...Filia... nods. “Yes, that would be wonderful.”

“Come on then... stairs are around the back, I'll take you up.”

The flat, though it is a single room, is spacious, taking up most of the space above the once-apothecary below. In one corner, a bulky looking wood stove sits, a battered kaethe pot atop it and a pile of firewood half-scattered nearby. The floors, unadorned, are thick hardwood, the finish dulled by time and wear. Pages torn from erotic chapbooks adorn the wall closest the bed... a simple wooden frame topped by a foul smelling, lumpy hay filled mattress and a pillow whose cover is more stains than not. A set of two bookshelves with a sparse three books... more chapbooks, most likely... rest along the rearmost wall, where a ladder leading to a hatch that likely opens to the roof is visible.

“Oh, for fuck's-” The prospective landlord exclaims, stalking over to the wall to tear down the 'art.' “Told m'boy to clean them up, clearly he had better things to do. Promise I'll smack him proper when I get home tonight.” She's irritated and embarrassed and it shows.

Filia replies, amusement in her voice. “Peace. There are worse things and I took no offense. Men can be difficult.” Not that she'd had much experience in that department, but it seems like the right thing to say.

“Fucking irritating, ye mean.” The portly woman says. “Begging your pardon.”

Filia, still amused, replies. “Irritating, then.” And then, in that direct way that she often has, she adds “I would like to rent the room. The remaining belongings; would you be willing to leave them?” She has little, so the few items left might be useful.

“Aye, if you like. Though you don't want that bedding, I promise ye that. Another two dragons and we can clean up, get ye fresh bedding? Less you want to sleep in whatever ungodsly mess he left all over it.” The woman says, still disgruntled.

Filia nods; with Bromm's help, she'd converted the gems she had carried with her when she fled her creche into the coin of the realm, leaving her with a tidy sum to live on. “That is reasonable. When might I... begin living here?” It feels strange to her, having a place that is solely hers. She's always shared, had to seek privacy in hidden corners and unused corridors.

“Be ready same time on the 'morrow.” The woman replies. “New bedding and all cleaned up for ye. Ye can pay every ten-day; you know where to find me.”

Filia considers this. “I would like to pay you now.” Opening her purse, she counts out enough to cover her for the three months... plus enough to cover the cost of replacing the bedding. “This is sufficient, is it not?”

“I... yes. Will cover you until the season turns.” The woman is not used to payment this way; she rents to plenty of ne'erdowells who she more often than not has to chase down. This Calishite woman is a breath of fresh air, strange mannerisms aside. “Another dragon, we can stock ye for firewood too, enough for a few ten-days.” It's overpriced, but if she has money...

Filia hands over another coin, nodding. “That would be helpful. Thank you.”

“Not at all.” The woman says, pleased with this turn of events. She hands Filia a couple of keys, saying “This here is for the door, t'other is for the roof. Keep them locked when you're out, less you want your things to walk. Other than that, not much else to do. Pleasure doing bizness with you, Filluh.”

“It was indeed a pleasure, Madam Lissa.” Filia replies, seriously.

And with that, they part ways... Filia heading back to the hostel to tell Bromm the news.

-——

Filia walks into the hostel, giving the room a quick once-over for guests before pulling off her head covering, running her hands through her hair to mitigate the flatness the head covering often causes. She is anxious for reasons she cannot articulate; she's a paying guest, or close to it, so leaving should be a matter of settling her accounts. Yet... she is dreading having to mention her departure to the closest thing she had to a friend in the Realms.

“Yer back early!” She hears from the storage room. “Either ye found what yer looking for or ye got tired of looking.” He chuckles. From the store room, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. “Gods bedamned... Fillia, come give me a hand, if ye would?”

Filia replies. “Of course.” And after a moment, she adds “Do not injure yourself.” as she heads into the store room.

“Aye, prefer not to bother them priests with a broke foot.” He agrees as she passes through the door. “Already give me enough bother as it is, what with them that I bring over for healing. If ye'll just take the other handle...” He gestures to a large trunk. “...we'll carry it to t'other room.”

Filia takes the handle as instructed, nodding her acquiescence, lifting... with no small effort... her side of the trunk. She's slight and not particularly strong, so what comes easy to Bromm is a bit of a struggle for her. Nevertheless, she manages, setting it down just before her grip gives out. “Heavy.” She gasps, breathing hard. “Or Yartur has made me soft.”

“Aren't nothing soft about you, girl.” Bromm chuckles. “I seen you handle folk, got sharp edges to you, no matter how quiet you be most times.” And then, having picked up on her body language, he adds, almost off-hand “Found a place, didn't ye? When do ye leave?”

Filia swallows nervously, hesitating before she replies.. “On the morrow, at least that is when the room shall be ready. I mean this as no slight, I-”

“Hush, girl.” Bromm chuckles. “Aren't no one taking it as a slight. Always expected you'd find your way. You're a bright one, just needed time to figure us izticks out.” Bromm smiles, patting her shoulder. “Been my honor and pleasure to host ye while ye did.”

Filia swallows, a lump in her throat that she's wholly unfamiliar with. “T'cha, I don't... I....” She trails off, unsure of what to say or really, what she is even feeling. The kindness is hard to take for reasons she cannot express. “I do not…”

Bromm has come to understand this strange gith over the couple of months that she's been his guest. From the stories she's told, she's never been on her own, but more importantly, at least to his reckoning... she has never had a friend. As as fantastical as he would have found it when she first showed up, seeking a room... he does count her as one. Seeing the struggle, he adds “A'sides, glad to be rid of ye. My floors are clean and there's nary a dusty corner left in the place; I keep ye around, city might start charging me taxes again!” He catches her eye and winks.

Filia, surprising both of them, snorts out a short laugh, the melancholy momentarily broken. “We could not have that, I suppose.”

“Nay, we can't have that.” He agrees. “Bad influence, you are. A'sides, nothing keeping you from visiting an old man. Come by, drink a bit ah ale, sweep my floors....” He chuckles.

Filia half smiles. “If I remain welcome, I shall.”

“You're always welcome, girl.” Bromm replies, seriously. “Come by sometimes, yeah?”

“I would like that.” She says, quietly.