Wake Up Every... Afternoon (Ayvajin, Open)

[Mjollnir]

Mjollnir moaned and rolled over in his bed. Birds… The birds were singing and chirping, making all those early morning noises that always roused the lazy necromancer no matter the time of day. As it happened, it was early… Well, relatively speaking, of course. It was near the sixteenth hour of the day, right when the good citizens of the world were beginning to slow down from their backbreaking work and start to lean towards a homeward direction. For this man and his cat, however; it was simply too early to be awakened from a pleasant and deep sleep.

Slowly oozing out of the covers, Mjollnir searched the ground for the pants that he had nonchalantly thrown off before he had resigned himself to his soft and downy fate. Finding them after a long while of sluggishly searching, he gradually pulled the garment up to his hip but found them to be backwards. Mjollnir rubbed his eyes and proceeded to remove the pants and try once more. The second time proved much more productive and he proceeded to don his white swashbuckler’s shirt without caring much for the waistcoat or overcoat that he normally wore. No, he was far too groggy to successfully maneuver his fingers over the little buttons and clips that were the predominate features of keeping the things on him.

Taking a few dazed steps, he reached the other side of the room that he had woken up in. It was a small, plain room that had the comforting feeling of a home about it. The plain walls were partial stone with a light oak to contrast it, and the floors were of the same wood but far less vertical. Other than the bed, there was a nightstand that seemed to serve little or no purpose but to simply be there in all its lack of elegance, a simple chair and table for the scrivener that lay silent in most, and a basin and pitcher for washing one’s face that sat upon another plain oak table. Mjollnir made his way with uncertain steps towards the water and methodically poured out the water, washed his face with a few gasps as the cold liquid made contact with his sleep warmed skin, and dried his face with his cuff.

Well, that was refreshing! He was much more awake now as he made his way once more to the wooden door that led into a rather long hallway with numerous other doors who looked exactly the same except for a small number at about the height of the average sized man’s head. Mjollnir shuffled down towards the door with a seven carefully embedded in the wood and gently knocked, “Ayvajin? Are you awake?” He put a finger on his chin and a quizzical look crossed his face, “Would she be awake at this hour? What is the hour, and if it is any hour that she should be up, is she? After all, she was much more drained than I was after that spell. Were you even drained? Me? Yes. What? I don’t know. You’re confusing me… I just wanted to know if she’s awake. Well that’s hard to tell with the door shut, don’t you-”

A rather loud mew broke into Mjollnir’s verbose thought process, “Right. Ah…” Since he had already asked the woman if she was awake, he decided that it was prudent to avoid causing any more noise if she wasn’t. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he remembered last night. She had been so exhausted that she had barely enough strength to raise herself up into a sitting position, but she had been so obstinate when it came to him carrying her. He had told her that if she wasn’t going to let him, he’d do it by force; he ended up arriving shortly at the inn and quickly paid the innkeeper a bit more than was necessary to get into the rooms quickly so that all three of them would have plenty of sleep.

Socrates wound his furry little body around Mjollnir’s ankles and purred slightly. The cat had gotten plenty of sleep while the man… Mjollnir yawned and stretched his arms up over his head. He’d gotten enough to be rejuvenated. That was more than he’d been getting in awhile.

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[Ayvajin]

Sleeping in was a rather unusual event for Ayvajin. The female necromancer never slept much let alone did she sleep in way past dawn. Her energy, however, had been completely stolen from her, and her body forcibly shut down. Dawn had come and passed, and at the beginning of midday Ayvajin rose from her bed at the inn.

Her surroundings were not completely unfamiliar to her, but Ayvajin remembered very little from the ending of the night before. She barely remembered how she had gotten to the inn, and she remembered none of entering the room.

This new day brought new energy, and the female necromancer was grateful for this. After she had finally gotten out of her bed, she set to work with cleaning herself up. She had taken off her clothes and made quick work of washing them and drying them. The night’s adventures had left her and her clothes completely covered in dirt.

When Mjollnir had come up to the door of her room, Ayvajin was sitting on her bed and coming out her tangled hair. She was dressed in her now white shirt and skirt that she had wore the day before and her sandals. She listened as the male necromancer went off on his own tangent just outside her door. The female necromancer smiled to herself as she sat up from her bed and made her way over to the door. She heard Socrates meow before she finally was able to open the door.

“I am awake. I have been for a little while,” Ayvajin said with a gentle smile as her icy eyes gazed upon Mjollnir and his undead cat. “And good afternoon to the two of you. I hope the both of you slept well.”