Downtime, Indulging Vice: Life's Lessons

Mother Narya hurriedly rounded the corridor of the bunkhouse and almost lost her footing. She'd heard that Nightingale was back and their services were required. Mother Narya tolerated Nightingale's presence, more than welcomed it. She was a kindly old matron, who cared for the welfare of those in her care above all else. She was ignorant of what Nightingale offered to ease the burden of those in her care, but if it helped, she'd let it go on until it no longer did.

"There you are! Javik's been asking for you. He doesn't have much time before the bells ring and word is spreading about how you've helped others here."

"I'll go at once Mother, and rest assured there's nothing underhand going on, cross my heart. Those facing the black just need to have someone listen to them. No one wants to die on their own and folk who end up here alone and scared, just want to be remembered by someone, doesn't really matter who."

Suspicion lingered in Mother Narya's eyes, but she nodded and pointed down the corridor to where Javik lay dying in his narrow bunk.

Nightingale could smell the rot as they entered the room. Javik had been placed in the Garden, a chamber filled with scented flowers and pine cones. The place served a number of functions; giving the nearly departed a modicum of privacy, whilst keeping them away from the other 'residents' of the Arms of the Weeping Lady. The scent of the flowers was said to be a calming influence to those facing death, but in reality, they were present to help stave off the stink. A concealed door was nestled at the rear of the room, leading directly to the streets below. This served to allow the Spirit Wardens to enter the bunkhouse discreetly to perform their civic duties when the bells inevitably chimed.

Nightingale had duties of their own. It was time to hear Javik's tales and help lift the burden of a life filled with treachery and deceit. Nightingale could learn a lesson or two from a man like Javik, a man who had murdered his way to the top of a crew, only to be betrayed when his usefulness ran dry. With each telling they consumed and for every drawing they rendered, Nightingale's empty vessel filled a morsel. It would never be enough to repair their shattered existence, but it was something.

In the distance the bells rang, a signal for Nightingale to Leave the Arms of the Weeping Lady and let the Wardens take their shift. Javik lay dead in his cot a faint smile touching his thin lips, it wouldn't be long before his spirit rose if left unattended.

Nightingale turned to leave the room, but hesitated for a brief moment. They could have sworn they saw something by the window. Nothing. Must have been a trick of the light generated by the electroplasmic lamps outside. Yes, just a trick of the light.

Locations: Mother Narya's Bunkhouse

Arms of the Weeping Lady.  This grand building, formerly an opera house, is now a soup-kitchen and bunkhouse for the destitute, run by the charity of the Weeping Lady. Locals use this landmark as the demarcation between the districts of Charterhall and Six Towers.


*Except from Blades in the Dark by John Harper