"I suppose you're here to ask for my help with something," she accused, setting her dinner plate on a side table next to the love seat she had claimed as her own. The plate was spotless. Her appetite, it appeared, had returned with her Vitality. Daisy's Gran - whose real name Garath didn't know because the nameplate affixed to her head only said ‘Gran’ - on the other hand, had not eaten at all. A large hunk of beautiful, fire charred salmon sat untouched next to her daily ration of what the military passed off as bacon and hash browns.
"Gran," Garath said, "you haven't touched your food again. You need to keep up your strength."
"Oh, I'm not very hungry but that is very sweet of you to notice, young man," she replied feebly without looking up from the fire.
"It's been almost a week and I haven't seen you eat at all, it isn't healthy. You're really starting to worry Daisy. Did you know she sent a fireball into the ocean while fishing today because she wasn't getting any bites? She knows you won't eat the rations so she went fishing with Gary and the boys to get you something else," Garath explained, concerned. "Maybe if you just pick your Class you'll feel better. I mean look at Sharon, she's seventy-eight!"
"And never felt better," Sharon agreed, nodding in the same slow manner she had when her body was old. "But you'll never get anywhere with this one, young man. Believe me, I've been trying to convince her of the same, she won't listen."
"What's the hold up?" asked Warrion.
Gran didn't reply, she had already checked out of the conversation and was staring vacant-eyed at the flames.
Garath made a face. "Okay then," he said, not one to kick a dead horse - or some other adage less offensive when referring to the elderly. "Moving right along. To answer your accusation Sharon, yes and no. I came to invite you to come do a dungeon. You seem to have really adopted your Class and I thought you may want to explore your new capabilities a bit."
"Use whatever charming words suit you best, swindler. Color me the crazy old hag if you want but I see through your pretty smile," she said, the conflicting self-image and actual-image painfully evident. Back when Sharon had looked her age, Garath would take her weird, somewhat creepy, backhanded compliments in stride but now that she looked like a woman his own age, an attractive woman his own age at that, he didn't know how to respond at all.
Garath laughed awkwardly and got up to leave. "Thanks, Sharon. We're leaving in the morning, I'll come find you."
Sharon grunted unattractively as the Assassin and Necrologist left the warmth of the fire. She then picked up Gran's plate and helped herself to the salmon Daisy had worked so hard to bring back. Sharon recognized the look in old Gran's eyes and knew the smell on her breath, she had seen and smelled them before when her good-for-nothing nephew had tried to put her in an assisted living home - Gran was dying, and it wouldn't be long.
As Garath and Warrion were leaving the uncomfortable heat of the fire, the Necrologist once again saw the group that had been talking behind the couches. They were still chatting, though now in hushed voices. Garath was able to make out one sentence, barely audible amidst the crowded main hall. “I'm just going to go tell him.”
Garath couldn't tell who had said it, but it didn't really matter - seconds later, a stout and enormously pregnant Hispanic woman that looked to be in her thirties broke free of the circle and was walking in his direction. When she was only a few feet away, the woman stopped and folded her arms over her obtuse stomach. Garath remembered seeing her here and there throughout The Culling, the image of her with her husband - who stood a few inches shorter even than his little wife - and four small children following behind her was like a brood of ducklings enthusiastically following their mother.
“Garath, do you have a moment?” she asked.
Garath could see from her nameplate that her name was Almaria. “Sure, Almaria. What's up?”
“Maybe we can go outside?” she asked, her arms still folded over her stomach.
For some reason this little, uncomfortably pregnant woman made Garath nervous but he agreed and told Warrion he'd catch up with him before following Almaria - at a surprisingly quick walking pace, considering her short legs and the encumbrance growing in her womb - out the open double-doors of the old school building.
As they walked in silence, Garath determined a few of the reason(s) this little woman made him nervous. For one, Hispanic women tend to have quite a fiery temper, in his experience at least. On top of that she was very, very pregnant. Though Garath had never really spent time around pregnant women, the widely known fact that they have mood swings and that you should avoid irritating them at all costs was definitely a factor. Lastly, her body language as she approached and asked for his time told the Necrologist that whatever she wanted to talk to him about had either made her upset or very nervous. He triggered his Inspect Ability and was given the abbreviated table of information, signifying that Almaria was among the Raid members not already on Garath's friend list.
Almaria
Race: Human
Class: Geomancer
Level: 17
Age: 33
Health: 560/560
Mana: 330/330
There was also a small icon next to her name that looked to Garath like a pair of legs glued to the ground. He willed more information to appear and read the details as Almaria took a seat on a wooden bench.
Gestating: Dexterity reduced by 50%; movement speed decreased by 10%;
*Modifier, third trimester: increased swelling; trouble sleeping;
