Returning home late and exhausted.

Domic trudges through the front door of home, having first stopped off in a small tavern for a drink and quick meal. He listens for Izabel as he sets his gear against the wall. There is the muffled sound of singing and water splashing upstairs.{if Izabel **** = 1} "Is she taking another bath? More than one a week? Well, she's always been weird," he thinks. He heads into the kitchen, and down into the food cellar, to pack rations for tomorrow. When he comes up, Izabel has still not come downstairs. "Maybe I should check on her," the thought pops in his head. He slowly makes his way up the staircase to the upper level, the wooden planks creaking slightly. The hallway is dark, but dancing candlelight shines through the crack in Izabel's ajar door, followed by the sound of her trills and water. Domic carefully approaches it.

"La de do la de dee," she bubbles.

"Uh...what the fuck was I thinking? Peeping on my bathing sister? But it's too late now! What if she finishes up, and comes out to find me standing here? She'd kill me! No, I have to check, quickly, just to see if she'd almost done. She washes her hair last right?" he thinks.

"Du de dom, la le doo," she continues, as he carefully peeks one eye around the doorframe. She sits with her back to him in their wooden tub, girdled tightly with iron bands. The long, dark forest of her hair flows behind her, down to the floor, glistening and full of water. Her arms reach up to a long outstretched leg, foot pointed. Her hands wrap around her leg's contours - in at the ankle - out a bit at her calf - in at her knee - then flare out at her thick thigh - as she spreads pink soap on skin the tone of wheat.

"Holy gods," he thinks. "Alright I...guess...that's enough," he tears his eye away from the scene after several long moments. He shuffles awkwardly away from the door, as quickly as he dares. "If she found me now, they wouldn't have a body to burn," he thinks, as he carefully walks down the creaking stairs to the front entryway.

"Le la low," she trills as he reaches the bottom of the stairs.{else}{endif}

"Izabel? I'm back!" he says loudly.

"Oh, Domic! Are you alright?!" Izabel calls down from upstairs.

"Yes, I'm fine, Izabel."

"Good! I'll be down in a little bit then," she says. He goes to grab a bottle of wine, and pours himself a goblet, sitting down on their couch. While savoring it, he flips through one of her esoteric apothecary books, filled with weird runes and drawings of plants and animal parts. Izabel comes down from her bath a few minutes later, dressed in a chemise and long red skirt, her hair wrapped up in a towel.{if Izabel **** = 1} He can't help but notice how the rather low neckline of her chemise directs one's view to her cleavage.{else}{endif} She sits next to him, taking the offered goblet of wine, and embraces him in a tight hug.

"Well, uh, I made it," he smiles weakly.

"Domic, don't be flippant," she says, releasing him. "Tell me what happened?" He does, recounting to her his and Cerni's journey to the cavern, their encounters with the orcs and spirits, and their new orders from Halle. "And how do you feel about those orders, about hunting the orcs down?" she says, looking at him with concern.

"I don't know. I don't know what to feel. In the cavern with Cerni, I jumped between fear and feeling like I was stalking an animal in the forest. Maybe it was because we were sneaking around and Cerni, well, she did the killing. But with a battle, an ambush tomorrow? I feel dread. And I don't want to hunt them down, Izabel."

“I understand,” she says, grasping his hand. She looks into his eyes and smiles. “Just, try not to worry about it, alright? Do you remember going into the forest with father or mother for the first time? Were you scared?"

"Yes, I think so."

"And now?"

"No, not at all."

"Because now we do it all the time, for weeks on end. I know you. You're cunning and skilled, you’ll be with other guards. And from what you've told me about Cerni, it sounds like she could handle all the orcs," she chuckles feebly. "You’ll um, you’ll be alright,” her voice cracks a little. “But you need to do anything to stay safe,” she says, as her eyes twist into storms of love and fear and anger. “For me and yourself. Do you understand?” she gasps.

“Yes, I will, Izabel, I promise,” he says, hugging her tightly.

“Good. I love you, Domic.”

“I love you too, Izabel.” They release after a few moments, and he reaches up to stop the few tears from rolling down her cheeks.

“Thank you...um, well, how about I tell you about my day,” she says.

“I'd love to hear it,” he says.