I don't feel the way I've ever felt.
I know.
I'm gonna smile and not get worried.
I try but it shows.
-Jimmy Eat World, "Pain"

To say that there was an apprehensive sensation in the air was getting away with as little words as possible to describe the situation.

Surprisingly however, none of them bolted from their seats.

Instead she watched as the Priestess looked at either man, the shock and anger of earlier fading away to quiet acceptance. This was one of those moments she could offer her counsel, but she was more interested in seeing what the party of three had planned. She of course, had no intention of meeting with any warlord. The Priestess might be ignorant of just who she was, just as her two guards were, but she did not think that would extend to anyone versed enough to lead armies.

Far too many questions would be raised, most wanting to know why she, a Venusian, was here. If she said the real reason, on behest of the Queen, and that she was to escort the Priestess back who she herself was ignorant of her own standing, that was just asking to be laughed at. Laughed at, ridiculed, and probably killed. Of course the death would come after their fun. And of course, fun meant rape. She wouldn't put it past the barbarians, and that wasn't being stereotypical. Every society had its deviants, no matter how superior they claimed to be. Venusians had them, Jovians had them, even the Lunar people were just as guilty.

She should know, she put more than one in the hospital for trying. Still though, it was one too many, and not every single one was so easily fought off. It was one thing to have an aggressive lover, a take charge dominant, it was entirely another when it was unwanted advances.

Silently she ate, manners would not let her engulf the food like she really wanted. She was starving; her prior meal had consisted of draws from her canteen after waking from her concussion, and the morning only saw more of the same. If there was a warlord and his army; you couldn't discount that bit at all, due to arrive, then there was always the possibility of a fight. Lucky so far, but even she knew she couldn't fight off that many at once. A scouting party was one thing; a challenge that she could possibly win against. This would be completely out of her league.

It was why she quietly ate, the silence allowed for it. Finally Phobos seemed to understand the situation, taking the loaf of bread that had been attacked by the Priestess earlier to wrap and slip into a bag before he quickly began to eat. Deimos took his cue from such actions, joining in, leaving the Priestess to look to them both before looking at her.

There were questions there, anger that clouded the gaze that she kept finding herself losing to, and stubbornness. The latter especially came to light as she finally spoke, "Well?"

She just barely got it issued as a question instead of another statement. It wasn't that it wasn't an important question; it was truly, however she quickly finished off the bowl of stew; some sort of beast made up the majority of it, along with a thick gravy and she didn't really want to know what else. It settled, that was what mattered at the moment. She finished eating before setting the bowl aside to speak loud enough to be heard, but low enough that it wouldn't carry.

"I wouldn't recommend staying here. But if we leave right now, we are asking to run into trouble. As much as I would love to learn more of what is going on, it is probably not safe to do so." She caught Deimos nodding at her, answering her suspicions that she continued to vocalize. "It wouldn't be a good idea for Deimos or Phobos to stay either. I haven't seen anyone that is their age since we arrived, I think they would be conscripted if found."

"And you?"

She just gave a sad smile, shaking her head. "You, of course, are who everyone is after so that wouldn't be a wise move on our behalf to just hand you over." She refused to vocalize the details about herself, it just wasn't worth it. People had imaginations; she was all for an active thought process. Why should she drag the conversation down by mentioning the obvious?

The Priestess seemed to accept her words for the most part, looking to either of the men before back at her. "We've already paid for the room, and the innkeeper will keep his mouth shut unless properly bribed or threatened. We can't leave, not yet. We have a chance that maybe we can have a night without molestation by whatever stupid warlord this is. It's a chance for some rest."

She couldn't fault the logic. It was the lesser of two evils, the other path to take. Both were dangerous regardless, but it was better than nothing at all. It was importantly, ultimately better than just walking out into a trap. Of course so much of it relied on the innkeeper not saying a word as well. Being trapped here was almost as bad as walking out into the awaiting arms of an enemy.

As inconspicuously as it was possible for them to move, things were collected and up the stairs they went. Deimos lead the way, followed by herself, then the Priestess, and finally Phobos. The implications could be staggering enough right there but it was something ignored, taking the lookout as the door to what apparently was going to be their room was unlocked. He entered the room, doing a slight sweep before she stepped inside.

The other two remained in the hallway as she inspected it better, not that she might be better at it than Deimos but another pair of eyes didn't hurt. It was small; fuck was it ever small. The main room itself had nothing in it save a chair and a battered stand with a chipped pitcher of water and a basin. There was a window here, barred shut by who knew how many layers of dried sap. A door led off to a slightly larger room that held two beds, if you considered something about as wide as one's own body to be a bed. She shook her head, releasing a soft sigh at the accommodations as the other two strode in.

Shutting the door behind them it was locked. Little chance it would actually hold if someone gave it a forceful kick, but likely the chair wouldn't do much anyway. Regardless it was collected, jammed up under the door handle and set at an angle against the floor. If it bought them a few seconds that was all that would matter. Packs were slung off next, set against the floor to be close by but out of the way.

A loose sort of agreement was made for a sleeping shift rotation between herself and the two guards. The Priestess wasn't included, to be expected if anything. Instead she sat in a corner of the room facing the wall, lost to meditation. Apparently if she had a fire it would work better but she was not completely helpless without one. With little better to do she sat down on the floor, leaning back against her pack. If someone had told her three days ago that this was where she'd be, in some run down inn on Mars with a warlord in town, all the while trying to escort a Priestess; really the Princess, to a transport shuttle on the other side of the planet, she would have laughed.

She would have laughed, long and hard over that, until tears ran down her face and her breath was a thing of the past. She would have laughed, and truly believed the person telling her such things was insane. Yet here she was. Drawing her cloak about her she closed her eyes; some sleep was better than none at all. It wasn't the wisest, but neither was it wise to stay up all hours waiting for a possible threat that may take days to appear. Sleeping here against the wall was probably far better than some flea infested bed. Fuck she wanted a bath… a nice long soaking bath… she'd fucking kill for one.

It felt like she had just drifted off to sleep, that stage that promised the most rest would be obtained the longer you could stay within it. The Princess from Mercury probably knew the name of it, a fleeting thought to give her company as she was pulled back towards the land of wakefulness. Beary eyes opened with remorse, looking up into Deimos' own gaze. A finger went to his lips, before gesturing at the door.

Thoughts of sleep escaped her as her heart began beating towards a racing tempo. Carefully she moved to her feet, silently drawing her falchion from its scabbard as she went. In a fluid, silent enough motion; thanks to her gloved thumb and forefinger posed just right to catch the blade as it was drawn, she stood armed, looking at the door. Barely any light was offered by the window, most of it spilled from underneath the locked and barred door. The way it flickered reminded her of candle light, just considerably more. A lantern perhaps, or a makeshift torch.

A glance behind her picked out Phobos and the Priestess, both equally holding their breath as voices drifted through scant inch opening that separated them from whatever it was on the other side. Neither looked worried, but it could have just been a mask as well. A facade in the face of danger perhaps, or it could have just been the shadows presented as well.

"This room. Who is in it."

"Sir, be begging your pardons, be paid custo-"

"I didn't ask for your pardons. I said. Who is in the room."

Martians had the monopoly on the market of making statements out of things that should be questions. The second voice she assumed was the innkeeper, or someone that worked here. The first must be a soldier of sorts to the Warlord, likely not the Warlord himself. A Sergeant or Captain, perhaps. Someone with authority and weight, but not enough to directly challenge the leadership. She swallowed slightly, tightening her grip on the falchion without realization of what she was doing.

"Is. Is just a traveler." The innkeeper sputtered off, his voice raising in the frantic tones that said either he was directly being endangered or it was fear. Often it went hand in hand to the point that without a visual confirmation, it was easier just to call it both. She drew in a deep breath, holding it steady as she raised her falchion up to come down in a vicious slash at whoever decided to come through the door first.

The door handle jiggled with the obvious sounds of being tested. Next to her, Deimos readied that spear of his that she had already been introduced to her, his intent just the same as her own. Behind her she heard the soft rasp of Phobos drawing his own swords, followed by the much slower and almost clumsy drawing by that of the Priestess in her left hand.

"Just a traveler then won't mind." Came back the terse response.

The door handle jiggled again, the sound of keys rattling in the otherwise held silence was loud and jarring. More than a few keys were tried, the innkeeper reduced to nothing more than whimpers at this point that the door muffled. The tension rose with each passing second, as each key was tried with unsuccessful attempts. Really, how fucking long did it take to find the right key? For once she was thankful for the delay and at the same time grew to loathe it.

A/N: I hate this chapter, but the things we do for transitions.