"No... No, I am afraid you got it all wrong." I finally manage up the courage to say to this: Einervaene. My gaze focuses on Rose-sweerui and I shake my head, possibly dissuading any runaway thoughts she might have. It would be better if she didn't start thinking that I'm related to the estate's owner.

"G-Got it wrong...? You mean I've just broken into someone else's home!?" Einervaene repeats and then she turns hysterical. Cocking a brow, I ignore the mental disconnect from how she would've broken in, regardless.

"The man you're looking for is probably the owner of this place, though." I clarify and she seems to calm down.

"How can you be so sure? Mother made it clear to me to look out for the strongest one in this town. That is you by a great margin!" she questions, her mind backtracking over who knows how many hours of travel.

"Disappointing, as it is to admit, my precious love is not the strongest here. Focus your senses, my dear." Rose-sweerui explains, her tone awfully polite and kind to the stranger who nearly scared her half to death. I guess that means this Einervaene is powerful in her own right. At least on par with a typical petal from her former flower. Outside of Vapooliar, those were the only ones to truly receive anything close to good manners from Rose-sweerui,

"F-Focus my senses..." Einervaene repeats, her frazzled nerves and quaking thoughts making it a near impossibility. However, she does seem to come to recognise something about me. A cute 'oh' escapes her.

It leaves me frowning, almost in offence.

"Because strength is not the only way a leader gets chosen..." I find myself muttering within the confines of my mask. Venting that tinge of annoyance I am suddenly feeling. Like the shocks she came in with, it goes away. I almost wanted to throw an arm up, but I refrain from doing so.

She might be a foreigner, however, I can't be sure about her situation. Maybe the problem her ferry faced were osibindah. The way Rose-sweerui has been describing the 'water-veins' up until this point makes them out to be deep caverns. Perfect for the bugs.

An earth shaman could easily hide them in ways darkness cannot.

"So... The... The person in charge..." Einervaene struggles to get out, her mind unable to bring the title and name to mind.

"Founding-Lord Brewbrt." I go, answering her unasked question and ending the um's and mutters.

"The elderly wind-man who is letting us stay here." Rose-sweerui adds on, one of her hands fanning away at her flustered cheeks. I quietly and barely sneer at the action.

"Does that make you one of his attendants, an apprentice, perhaps?" Einervaene asks and I shake my head instantly.

"No, we're just guests. We do not know each other. Well, anyway." I clarify, and she nods slowly. She starts to fiddle with the mud on her body as silence takes over. It quickly turns awkward. Feeling the current state of my clothes, I remember what I was going to do prior to this. I was going to clean myself.

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I turn back the way I came, intent on using the bath real quick.

"The pair of you stay here. I am going to finish cleaning myself. I'll take you to the owner, then." I explain to Einervaene, going off before I hear another peep from her. Though, given her state, maybe she would like a bath more than me. Yet, when I reach the door, I nearly slam it shut and my back collapses against it.

I raise my mask to the ceiling and groan, louder and louder. It comes off fully, hat and cloak following suit. Making sure the door is locked, the loose bandages finally slip off. I sigh again, free of the increasingly wrecked nerves.

No discovery will be made about me, not tonight.

Dragging my armoured feet along the floor, my legs go over the edge of the grand tub and they dive. The water's displacement brings the edges higher, and it only rises more as I sit down. Muck dyes the top of the soapy liquid and I try to relax. But there's a problem, and it is confusing me, for there is a thick fog of steam.

"Not warm enough..." I am careful to say, the suds a little too close to my open jaw. Looking around at the cloud of water and the smeared up glass, I frown. Maybe it's just me. It's so steamy it'd be a waste to pour more hot water in. The concern washes out of my thoughts like the sadroobell's blood does out of my carapace's gaps.

My body slides deeper, its hard points not giving way and sounding the scrapes.

"Oh no, get off me God of Water..." I quietly complain to the steamy air. My mind tries to entertain me with memories of my time with the gods and goddesses of our mortal world. In particular, due to my circumstances, the God of the Life Within Water, Oceinater, comes to mind. That thing he did when I was walking around with Undwote was certainly a memorable moment. I cannot recall if I was scared, but, thinking about it now, I am off-put a little.

Having an arm swallowed by living liquid, its form becoming similar to mine. Slipping off my fingers-

Hand...

Despite my best efforts, the memory focuses on what was true at that time. Though I was a soul, I had my body. My human body. I was more human as a wandering dead man than I will ever be again now.

"Gods be damned..." I want to cry out, my claws covering my face. I can't do it, I cannot trick myself into believing that the build-up of water near my eyes is mere bathwater. Rather than tears... Whimpers chitter out of my mouth and it only gets worse. Claws slipping away into a pair of splashes, I stare over at a flannel.

Going for it, I try to end the spell of self-pity by working my frustrations out against the dirt. Against the blood that I have a feeling is more like what mine used to be. My eyes may be the same as they were when I was human. But, is my blood too, or is it that yellow the bugs have?

I've had enough of their blood since I escaped the hive.

Squeezing the washing-up chemicals into the cloth, I scrub my body harder. Any strange or awkward to get to place and I try to force the issue. My jaw clenches as my body tells me 'No!' at the feel of carapace being forced away. I can't even bend around to clean some of these places... The bug plates close it up...

Either I will need Rose-sweerui's help in the future, if she is willing. Surely she will be willing to help her... Precious love... Or, I will need to use this pay from Futhans' sadroobell bounty to buy myself a sponge-on-a-stick. Something equivocal if sticks are in bad supply here. Rather, so I can get something that can handle my unnatural strength.

Setting the flannel aside, I turn over to reach for a towel. Dragging it in with me, I drown the cloth meant for drying and soap it up thoroughly. The water runs off of it as it might come out of a tap. Standing up with it, I try my best to scrub the width of my back.

"No drying, only soaking..." I mumble as the present contradicts my past with towels. Riiiiii-p. My arms fling around, two pieces of towel in either claw. Despite the flare up of fire in my blood, it is doused quickly.

My shoulders lower, and I am otherwise limp.

"Guess I need help from others from now on..." I say, realising my unfortunate future. Sobbing with a sniffle, a particular question comes to mind. What am I to do if I ever find myself on my own? The question repeats epileptically.

My anger barks back to life, and I throw the towel pieces away with a wet splat.

"Gah..." I breathe, heaving my emotions back under control.