The camp had been entirely too quiet. Quiet enough that the suggestion had been made to sing. The original intent of the other wardens, however, being to get Isethari to sing for them. To which she, stubbornly and staunchly, refused.
"Well if Ise won't do it, I will," Carver proclaimed.
Isethari's ears perked up slightly in interest. Grady, on the other hand, groaned. Quite audibly.
"Oye, not again. I heard ya last time. I ain't up fer that shit this time 'round."
The light-haired warrior rose to his feet, declaring he would fetch more firewood. Only after grousing about Carver's singing a few more times. Their remaining comrade, a short and dexterous rogue called Weller, began to chuckle. He clapped Carver on the shoulder, a jovial grin on his lips.
"Don't mind that sourpuss, yeah? C'mon, give us what ya got."
Isethari smiled, nodding in encouragement to Carver. He inhaled a deep breath, nodding quietly as he mustered up his voice. The words of the song itself came off as relatively unimportant. In fact, Isethari noticed quite quickly the mood of the tune seemed far more important. She did not claim to be an expert on shemlen songs, but she was quite sure that Carver was making up words that didn't even exist to fill in the blanks of his memory.
Not that she or Weller particularly cared if he didn't quite know all the words. His confidence bloomed as he merely went for it. Weller joined in, and Isethari herself began to clap and giggle as the tone shifted from a simple merry tune to quite the jaunty tune.
Unfortunately for the trio, Grady did not stay gone on his task for long. He returned with a grunt, stopping just shy of their small circle around the fire. He dropped the pile of dry lumber in his arms, a small crash echoing against the trees ringing the clearing.
"Maker. Enough is enough!" he exclaimed, exasperated.
All at once the cheeriness of the mood evaporated. Silence settled as Carver turned an annoyed glare to the other warden.
"Just because you're a-"
"No. No!" Grady threw his hands up. "Your 'music' sucks and you suck." He jabbed a finger through the air toward Carver, punctuating each word with a thrust of the meaty appendage.
Carver opened his mouth to protest, but was silence quickly. "I don't wanna hear it, Hawke. Get over it."
And with that, their spoilsport spun on his heel and retreated to his tent. The air grew thick with the heaviness of the growing tension. Isethari frowned, looking over to Weller. The young man shrugged, hoisting himself up and retiring as well when she gestured for him to go.
Sliding up next to Carver, she wrapped her hand around his arm. She didn't say anything, however, merely leaned against her friend and rested her head against his shoulder. Carver, himself, was the first one to break the ever-growing silence.
"I really hate that guy."
Isethari shrugged against him, her grip tightening against him in encouragement.
"Don't let him bother you, lethallin. He's a bitter jackass. I thought you were wonderful."
Carver laughed, tipping his head aside to rest gently against hers.
"I was terrible. But thanks anyway."