"It's finished." She stared at the parchment before her, evaluating each word of the ballad she had spent hours pouring over that evening." I hope it brings them some comfort, at least." She folded the parchment and secured it within a pocket on the inside of her coat.
"Done writing for the night, Sophronia?" A deep, dulcet voice flooded her thoughts, pulling her from the trance she had succumbed to upon beginning her task hours ago.
"Oh!" She gasped, the sudden question catching her off guard. She had not noticed anyone approach her table. "Osgood..." She smiled as she turned to face the rosy old man standing next to her. "Yes, I'm finished for the night. I managed to write the entire song in one sitting this time."
"Sounds like a cause for celebration then!"
Laughter bellowed from the jovial tavern keep as he walked to the nearby bar. "It's rare you finish one of your stories this fast. Any reason this one was different?"
She fell silent, pearly fangs biting into her bottom lip as she contemplated her answer.
"It's always easier with cases like this, I suppose, when the murder isn't just some random act of violence perpetrated by a stranger. Those are the cases that leave me lost for words, because they're always so nonsensical. In the case I wrote about tonight, a man was killed by a scorned business partner turned secret lover. That's easy. That makes sense to me. I'm not saying it's right, but it's easier for my mind to think and write about someone killing a person they knew in the heat of passion rather than someone picking a stranger off the street for slaughter as if selecting a piece of meat at the butcher shop."
As she spoke, Osgood prepared a drink and returned to her table. He sat in the chair next to her and placed a silver tankard filled with shimmering scarlet liquid on the table between them.
"I don't know how you stand thinking about such things so often, regardless of the situation." The aged man's once cheerful face had twisted into a solemn grimace." Have a drink. It's your favorite." He nodded toward the beverage he had placed upon the table.
She picked up the tankard, but paused before raising it to her lips. "Bloodmilk cider as usual?"
"Ah, but not just any bloodmilk, Sophi." Osgood grinned. "This bloodmilk is my own special blend, a recipe I've been working on for months, ever since the last harvest. You won't find it anywhere other than right here, at The Blooming Thistle Tavern." The proud brewer beamed, eager to receive feedback on his latest creation.
"I didn't know you were growing bloodmilk fruit."
"That's because I didn't want you to know. I wanted this moment to be a complete surprise. Now drink, enjoy, relax, and tell me that you love it." He chuckled.
Sophronia obliged, tilting the tankard up to her lips, and allowing the sweet liquid within to spill into her mouth. The flavor was unlike anything she had tasted before, refreshing, warm, and relaxing. Osgood had outdone himself.
"How did you make this, Osgood? It's amazing. I've never had bloodmilk cider as good as this before." She was almost baffled that a human brewer could manage to craft such a masterful blend of flavors.
"Impressed, are ya?"
More than impressed, she was enamored.
"Absolutely. How much of supply do you have of this?" She was already considering the possibilities for rationing the cider out until the next harvest. Bloodmilk fruit only bloomed in late autumn, and winter was still unrelenting. Springtime was weeks away, and autumn would come many months after that.
"Don't worry yourself. There's plenty to last. Besides, you're the only one around here who drinks the stuff, aside from any rare Viren travelers who may happen to pass through here. Humans don't much enjoy the metallic taste of blood. I even tried a swig of this brew for myself, and it's terrible!" The stout man reached into the pocket of his stained trousers and pulled out a shining flask. "Now this is a drink!" He pressed the flask to his lips before turning it upside down in the air, a rush of honey elixir cascading down his ashen beard.
Sophronia frowned. Just the thought of the wretched flavor of human mead was enough to make her nauseous.
"I need to be going, Osgood. I have to attend the memorial ceremony tomorrow to sing the elegy, so the last thing I need is to drink too much bloodmilk cider tonight." She stood and wrapped her dark coat around her, concealing her tiny frame within the thick layers of fabric and wool.
"Be careful walking back. You know I worry about you." He stood as well, towering over her as he pulled her into a tight embrace. "Tell Rosaria I said we need to get together again real soon." He ended with a wink.
"Osgood! I do not want to know any details! I'm leaving!" Sophronia covered her ears as she sped toward to door, desperate to escape before learning about the budding romance between Osgood and the owner of the Magenta Moon Inn where she stayed. "Thanks for the bloodmilk cider!" She called out from the doorway before stepping into the somber chill of another winter night and heading through the darkness for home.
The inn Sophronia had been renting a room at for the past year gleamed in the distance, the fragrance of baked cherries heavy on the cold wind. Rosaria was no doubt toiling away in her kitchen as she did every night, preparing an assortment of pastries for the next morning's free breakfast bar. The candied aroma quickened Sophronia's pace, and her leather boots echoed against dark cobblestone as she hastened down the path for home.
A small bell chimed on the wall above as she stepped through the front door of the Magenta Moon Inn, and a smiling woman soon emerged from a corridor concealed behind a floral tapestry.
"Sophi!" The woman bounded across the room and extended her hands toward Sophronia, umber palms cradling a fluffy tart. "Just for you." She smiled.
"You always know just what I need, Rose." Sophronia took the small cake in her hand, squishing its moist surface between her pale fingers.
"I thought you could use a pick-me-up before the service tomorrow. Did you manage to finish your ballad? It's not like you to wait until the last minute to write an entire song." Her kind fuchsia eyes gazed deep into Sophronia's, as if trying to uncover some hidden sorrow.
"Yes, it's finished. I know I usually work on the memorial ballads while the investigation is ongoing, but this time was so much different. I've never worked a case like this, as in an active case where the murder happened only weeks ago. I'm used to investigating cold cases that have gone unsolved for years, and as I'm working on those cases, I find myself drawn to write poetry about the person whose life I'm reconstructing. It helps me clear my mind and see aspects of the case I may not have considered yet. Those investigations tend to carry on for months as well, so I have quite a bit of down time to write."
Sophronia paused to take a bite of the sticky pastry that seemed to be melting between her fingers. The perfect blend of sweet and sour, she savored the morsel as long as she could before speaking once more.
"With this case though, the murder had just happened. The Sentinels were still involved, and I've never had a family come to me for help with an active murder investigation before. They only come to me after months or years have passed without answers, when they are desperate for any help they can find. This case was intimidating, if I'm honest. I felt a lot of pressure to do everything I could for the family as fast as possible. I didn't want this to turn into another cold case."
"Do you think you'll take anymore active cases, if you're asked to by another family?"
Sophronia sighed and swallowed a second bite of cake before she answered.
"I don't know. I want to say yes, but... the strain this one put on me was so immense. Maybe if I have some time between cases. I don't think I could handle another case that involves so much raw emotion any time soon though." Her violet eyes stared upward as she became lost in vivid memories of her most recent investigation. "Watching people go through the trauma of losing someone they love to murder is painful. I can't get his sobbing widow out of my mind. She was so broken. I've never seen someone as empty as she has been for these past few weeks."
The pair stood in silence for a moment, Sophronia eating her dessert while Rosaria watched. The snapping embers of a scarlet chimney fire chattered across the room. Sophronia turned her mournful gaze toward the inferno, and her eyes softened as she watched the kaleidoscope of crimson flames swaying in the quiet.
"I'm going to bed now, Rose. I have an early morning tomorrow." She walked toward a dim hallway, wooden floorboards creaking with each step she took. "Thanks for the treat, by the way. Oh, and Osgood sends his regards." Sophronia grinned as she watched a deep blush creep across Rosaria's face.
"Get some rest!" The elvish woman retreated to her kitchen in a whirlwind of brunette curls.
Sophronia continued into the shadows, guided to her room by the faint light of lanterns that lined the rustic walls. She delighted in the gloomy atmosphere of the inn. Along with Rosaria's pleasant demeanor and excellent daily buffets, the melancholy murk made the inn feel like a true home to the bard.
The door to her room opened with a low creak, and the familiar scent of smouldered cedar wood invited her into the darkness. She stepped inside and locked the door behind her. The metallic jingle of the bolts clicking into place soothed her tired mind, a lullaby that signified she was alone and safe for the night once more.
WIP