Lashan fills her cup again and if Guts doesn't object, she refills his too once he's finished. They aren't large cups but this also isn't a whole lot of airag. She doesn't tend to ferment much at a time, these days, unless she knows she'll have company. Enough to help her relax on nights when she's running old trails in her head, not enough to make an idiot out of herself. If she split the entire amount with Nerine the girl would be bright red and off balance. The boy, obviously, is larger.
The battered deerskin apron, she left behind in the forge. Now Lashan takes her headcloth off, the iron gray of her hair visibly paler and cleaner where it was covered. "It's been sitting since the afternoon. On the Plains we'd just tie a skin to our horses and let them shake it for us, otherwise it just needs agitating now and then. This is something even you could do, if you had milk."
By that she really means it's something she can do. For Lashan, 'making food' means cutting off the inedible bits and roasting what's left on a fire; she can, technically, soften dried meat and peas in a pot with water, but only if she makes herself pay attention the whole time.
She swirls airag in her mouth, swallows, and asks, "What do you do when it's winter? That's the lean season for sell-swords." Once upon a time she'd had a contract with a caravan that had included lodging for the winter... that had been quite a ways from here and probably before the boy's parents were born. Accommodations had been flea-ridden and miserable and she'd been half crazy with claustrophobia inside a month but she'd counted herself lucky, she and the other hired guards. The winter before that had been so much worse.
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The battered deerskin apron, she left behind in the forge. Now Lashan takes her headcloth off, the iron gray of her hair visibly paler and cleaner where it was covered. "It's been sitting since the afternoon. On the Plains we'd just tie a skin to our horses and let them shake it for us, otherwise it just needs agitating now and then. This is something even you could do, if you had milk."
By that she really means it's something she can do. For Lashan, 'making food' means cutting off the inedible bits and roasting what's left on a fire; she can, technically, soften dried meat and peas in a pot with water, but only if she makes herself pay attention the whole time.
She swirls airag in her mouth, swallows, and asks, "What do you do when it's winter? That's the lean season for sell-swords." Once upon a time she'd had a contract with a caravan that had included lodging for the winter... that had been quite a ways from here and probably before the boy's parents were born. Accommodations had been flea-ridden and miserable and she'd been half crazy with claustrophobia inside a month but she'd counted herself lucky, she and the other hired guards. The winter before that had been so much worse.