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Phoenixheart was sleeping peacefully for a few hours, but it eventually turned fitful due to a nightmare that she was going through. She tossed and turned in the bed that she was sleeping in and if someone listened closely, they would be able to hear her mumbling. Tears were also slipping down her face as she slept. She was also trembling as she tossed and turned. She then awoke after a while, drenched in a cold sweat, a silent scream upon her lips. She sat up in the bed breathing shakily and attempted to calm herself down.

Brolin lidded his eyes and nodded a silent good night to Ver, watching the man ascend the staircase and disappear in to the land of slumber.

"Fou' hours." He-d confirm to Hangy, dragging a chair to the front door and bracing the handle with it. His watch post was seating himself in a chair with descent vantage point of both entrances. "O' until we're ambushed an' flogged in th' street for such a ignorant trade o' safety fer cumfort."

Complaining done, if nothing proceeded throughout the night he'd wake Hanged Man at the appointed time. Instead of going to sleep, he'd take advantage of the kitchen and peeking morning to noisly whip around skillets and pots, back door slamming open and closed as he traveled back and forth from the stables and hen houses in a quest of his own- breakfast

Aybilla was not asleep very long when her shallow rest was interrupted. Something was wrong. No, not the shriekers outside - whatever they were. Something else. Aybilla's eyes fluttered as her instincts warned her that someone was moving about. Her ears caught slight mumbling and she forced her eyes the rest of the way open, staring into the dark ready for anything.

She didn't see any figure as she had expected she would, but one of the other girls was tossing, clearly agitated. Suddenly the girl sat up. Through a bit of moonlight coming into the room the cleric could see it was Nixy, and she did not seem well.

She was about to speak to her, but considered that anything could startle her. Let her be aware of your presence. So she started first with tossing a little and stretching her arms wide before sitting up herself.

"Nixy, are you well?" she whispered across to her.

Phoenixheart was still attempting to calm herself down when she heard someone else stir. She looked over and saw that it was Aya. She tried to manage a smile and also attempted to sound calm when she responded "y-yeah, I'm fine. Just had a bad dream is all." She didn't want Aya to be worried about her, so she tried her best to reassure the woman that she would be okay with a little time to calm herself down. She finally managed a shaky smile and directed it towards Aya. She hoped that this would be enough to reassure her that she would be okay for now.

The night - save Brolin and the girls - was quiet. Perhaps once or twice in the night, there'd be another distant scream, but it sounded further away, if anything. It was shaping up to be a clear dawn, as if the clouds had disappeared along with the people. Fortunately, should anyone check, it appeared the stars were all in the sky where they belonged.

Aybilla had a concerned expression for Phoe, and a bit of a skeptical look to it when she saw her shaky smile. She heard some of the loud clanking from the floor below and her expression hardened more. With the slamming of the back door she ran to the window where she could see a portion of the back of the inn. Brolin was the culprit. She tut-tutted.

"That man could wake the dead with that racket. By the Horizon, if he brings the danger down on us...." She just huffed rather than complete the threat and turned back to Pheonix. "Are you sure you're alright, Dear?"

She had curled into a ball upon her side at somepoint, partially lying on the floor, though most of her remained against Dembala, still content in his lion form. Given the distance, it's not Phoenix who stirs her, sadly - but Brolin instead, given the mighty breakfast-quest. A gloveless hand rises to curl into a weak fist, rubbing at her eye before she sits up slowly. A long yawn escapes before she manages to settle tired eyes upon the ladies. "..Humm..Is everything okay..?" The young Devil asks of them sleepily, confident there is no emergency for the moment. Dembala lifts his head slowly, crimson eyes gradually scanning the room curiously.

Phoenixheart, still feeling a bit shaken up from the dream, but having mostly calmed herself down by now replied a bit quietly to Aya "y-yes, I'm sure. I've kinda gotten used to having nightmares like the one I've just had... I just need a bit of time to calm down afterwards..." She hadn't seemed to notice the racket that Brolin was making or either didn't really mind it. She then noticed that Cara had woken up and responded "As far as I know, everything is okay"

It just hit Aybilla that, although seemingly capable, these two winged girls were quite young. Eight years younger than she. Were they used to being far from home? Did they have family or suitors? Carabia was a princess, even. They were both brave by Aya's observations and she had confidence they could keep up with everyone, but that didn't stop her from wondering what sort of hardships they were experiencing, not just now in this bizarre instance. She remembered growing up to be difficult. Was it different for devils and firebirds?

Aybilla considered Nix for a moment, then nodded with a reassuring smile.

"Alright, then I am going back to sleep. But, if you need anything please wake me." she gave Carabia a soft look to say she includes her in that statement as well. Suddenly, there in the moonlight Aya felt quite motherly.

She waited for acknowledgement from Nix, and Cara if she would give any, then returned to her bed giving one last look outside. The stars caught her eye, looking the same as they had the night before. Aside from Brolin's rampaging, she was satisfied that all was well. She prayed that morning would come without excitement.

Phoenixheart nodded and quietly said "o-okay" when Aya said to wake her if she needed anything. Not long after Aya had went back to sleep, Phoenixheart felt her own drowsiness kick in and, feeling a lot calmer at that point, she decided that it would be best to also try and get some sleep. She laid back down with a small, tired sigh and a few moments later was back in a deep sleep, though this one was much more peaceful.

The Hanged Man slept on the floor of Ver's room that night, leaning against his shield like a makeshift pillow and stretched out on his cloak and any spare bedding he could locate. Strangely, before he slept, he tied a strip of cloth around his mouth--once he was asleep, its purpose was clear. The man thrashed and muttered in his sleep, thankfully not so loud as to start bellowing or screaming--for him, a quiet night. The cloth muffled his discontent somewhat, and he slept relatively soundly until Brolin came to wake him. Hopefully the same could be said of Ver.

With a stifled yawn, the Hanged Man donned his gambeson and armor again, then walked down into the common room as quietly as he could to put on his gauntlets and boots, which were still drying by the now-dwindling fire. He threw another couple logs on, then settled down where he could watch both the front and the back doors.

Brolin, it seemed, wasn't content to bed down. As the man began to clamor around looking for whatever it was he wanted, the swordsman scowled at him. "Master Brolin," he called once Brolin had reappeared in the common room. trying to keep his own voice low enough that those upstairs wouldn't be too alarmed. "Can't that wait 'til morning? You sh-should try to sleep."

Ver had only looked up once, when the Hanged Man had entered, and apparently had been soundly asleep since then, snoring quietly and only twitching or shifting at sounds. He slept above the covers, with his scales hung between his pack's straps, and his pack and sword on the floor beside him - within arm's distance. Either not jumpy enough or too exhausted, the Hanged Man leaving his room didn't rouse him.

Brolin peeked his head out of the kitchen, forehead beading with sweat from hauling logs and hovering above a hot skillet. The sweet smells of a rising 'beer' bread (or some other mediaeval crudification) followed him from the adjacent room. "..Wot?" He asked Hangman, looking the man over puzzled for a second as his brain caught up.

"Oh, nae, I shoul'o started all t'is much earlier. Bread might not rise. Shite." He complained absently, tossing a flowery rag at the floor.

"Oh an' come off it, th' sound o' a busy kitchen never rousted no'ne. Boosts the morale, remin's people about home."

He'd motion over at Hangman's armor "Need a hand on th' buckles?" Asked indiferently obviously at a slight impass with the bread situation.

Brolin's response to his request for quiet left the Hanged Man rolling his eyes. "You'd best h-hope they like whatever it is you're making, then," he retorted, "and be ready to carry Carabia and Phoenix when they're too tired to walk." This was said at least partially in jest, given that the Gael had rigged them a wagon ... theoretically, at least.

At the offer to help, the Hanged Man nodded and held out his right arm. He seemed to do reasonably well with his buckles overall, though there were a couple down his back left undone, and the ones on the right gauntlet were loose as well.

Once woken, the sleepy young lady remains sitting up for a time. Pondering on whether she could fall back asleep, yet still grateful she had at least managed a couple of hours. Why she slept far better in comparison to travelling and camping alone, feeling secure among their strange party. "Yes, of course. Sweet dreams." She answers Aya's kind offer, casting her a warm smile through their darkened room. Dembala turns his head to boop against Carabia's cheek, she reassures the enormous lion by patting his side, soon rising to stand. The Devil takes great care to keep her steps near-silent, not wishing to wake either Phoenix or Aya. She takes her time in exiting quietly, still wearing the same comfortable white night-gown as she approaches the gentlemen downstairs. "Why good morning." A slight laugh lingers upon her tone, perhaps amused to see them both. "Couldn't sleep?"

Brolin abliged Hangman's remark with a roll of his eyes, crossing the room to give aide to the soldier and his fastenings.

"You're all a tough lot I'll give ya that, but so damn.. touchy. Lord forbid we fin' somethin' worse than a noisy commissary." He'd continue to jokingly poke, threading and tightening the straps.

It seemed Brollie was more familiar with buckling up horses from the way he teased the fastenings- starting at painfully too tight and eventually fumbling to a tautness that was at least wearable.

"Good morn' Li'l Cara! Eh, I think he slept.." Peeking up from behind the shoulders of the ever-sturdy Hanged Man, finishing up his war with the fastenings.

The Hanged Man cringed as Brolin pulled the straps too tight, his hand giving an involuntarily spasm in response, but no words left him. Similarly, he ignored the Gael's attempts at further jest. The man felt like a burr in his breastplate.

As Cara descended the stairs, he bowed his head to her, as much as his armor would permit. "T'is still early," he told her. "One could ask the same of you. I managed a couple hours myself." When Brolin finished the buckles, the Hanged Man twisted his torso and flexed his wrists to test them out. Satisfied, he returned to his seat, intent on finishing out his watch. "I believe M-Master Brolin has taken care of breakfast," he said wryly.

There are few people who still call her Lil'! Hearing such a term immediately reminds her of the day she first introduced herself to Brolin. Likely no time at all for him, though it's been several years for the now young lady. This softer smile fades once she is aware of her own daydream, throat soon cleared apologetically. "Oh? You did not rest at all?" A vague frown plays upon rosy lips, the concern clear within her tone. There goes Hangy showing such stubborn respect, kind as ever! Moreso given their bizarre, shared circumstances. While still in her night gown, Carabia does not hesitate to cross ankles, lowering into a graceful little curtsy. "A couple of hours, yes. Enough to refresh me for the day ahead." She answers with a gentle smile, head turning towards Brolin. "Breakfast? My, you truly have kept yourself busy."

When it came to perception of time, best guess with any when it came to Brollie. He had acknowledged her growth, but being a professional rift-jumper it certainly had been years for him aswell. Gray had taken over much more than when he had met her, and with an already increasing age came more outbursts and less of a joyous temperament.

He was aging from quirky to cankerous.

"Aye, drownin' is a wonderful cure t' the insomnia.. he waan' lyin about th' breakfast.. it's in the.. in the.. Nae! Nae! Hangy get back 'ere- is too much, it's jus' too much armor." He'd faun and shout half-afectionally behind Hangman, now having fetched a rolled cigarette and once more trying to tighten things that don't need it as brain flipped between thoughts.

Ver was roused by the shouting, at least. But upon opening his eyes, he made an immediate decision to remain in place until someone came to get him. He listened momentarily for any sound that was one of a struggle, pushing a hand through his loose hair, decided that it was probably nothing, and turned over, closing his eyes again. I think I left my hair tie on the ground down there. I hope there won't be blood on it.