“These grand adventures are glorious, but a bit complicated as a ranger, let me tell you.” Tove stood casually on the edge of the casino’s roof. Behind her, the reef drake Lashtail happily stomped around the fountains. “It’s not very nice to drag your animal friends so far out of their comfort zones.”
“I understand,” Ambrosine said, patting Tove’s wyvern Forge on the head. “They’re doing okay for now, but I can’t promise the dry air won’t be rough on them at some point. Maybe try to keep to river patrols or here around Amnoon? Or just bring the wolves.”
“I tried to bring Randulfr to Maguuma, remember? He was miserable. He’s an arctic wolf, Elona would be just as miserable for him.” Tove gestured to Forge, who she’d tamed in Maguuma in order to let her oldest and truest companion off the hook. “But his mate, now, she’s of timber wolf stock. I could probably bring her and Tercet.” Tercet was Tove’s Drakehound. He mostly loafed around her brother’s place, being a lovable and mostly useless guard dog. “…actually, maybe that’s what I’ll do, although I’ll miss having Forge to light my fire out in the field.”
Ambrosine snorted. She didn’t care to brave the roof’s edge, so she sat down in one of the chairs vacated by edgy nobles who didn’t want to share a roof with a wyvern. The Norn eventually joined her, albeit by sitting on the ground. “Poor Tove, having to use a flint again.”
“Have you taken on any of the hydras?” Tove leaned back against the chair.
“Only in a group. Gods but those suckers hit hard.”
“So it should be fun to take on by myself?”
Ambrosine side-eyed her something furious. “Norn are batshit, do you know that?”
“It‘s occured to me now and then, yes.” Tove smirked.
Ambrosine shook her head. “Well if you want a chance at a hydra, just come with me when I head out in the morning. I’m part of an escort detail for some Priory folk, and it’s not unusual to see one along that route. Can’t promise you’ll tackle it alone though, because Jess hates those suckers and shoots them every chance she gets.”
“I’d be proud to hunt alongside cousin Jess, as well.” Tove paused. “You’re inviting me to the wedding.”
“Oh am I?” Ambrosine raised an eyebrow.
“I am family, aren’t I? To Jess, if not you, yet. Through dear cousin Ingridr, who is married to Jim, who is after all Jess’s brother-”
“Distantly,” Ambrosien drawled, wondering if she’d want to elope before all was said and done. “We were intending immediate family, Tove, not far flung second cousins by marriage.”
“So…you’ll have only Jess’s family there, and no one for yourself?” Tove rested a hand on Ambrosine’s arm. “She will be fine with one more, and I am a skaald as well, remember? Let me witness it for those who cannot. Aren’t I also your friend? Not your best friend, I know, but a good one, yeah?”
“Of course.” No, Tove was not her best friend–that was reserved for Niklas, who had known her when they were both impetus teenagers–but Ambrosine loved her deeply, nonetheless. The Norn was brave, and loyal, and possessed of a scathing (and dirty) wit. There were few people Ambrosine would be quicker to charge into battle with. “Fiiiiine,” Amborsine said, without much real reluctance. “But save the snark for after the ceremony.”
“Oh for this, there will be no snark. Just suggestive song lyrics.”
Ambrosine stared up at the sky as she scratched the eye ridge of a suddenly inquisitive drake. “How much am I going to regret this?”
“…it could be worse, I suppose.”