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The sun had set hours ago, and Rose shivered in her meager shelter, flinching at the occasional peal of thunder with a young Guardian fawn sprawled gracelessly across her lap. Dante, as she had named him, bleated occasionally, though whether it was in response to his own damp misery or his mistress' rain-soaked distress, Rhoswyn had no idea.

She was endeavoring not to think about her father and the fight they'd just had; every time it sprang to mind (as it often did; happens when you try not to think about something) she burst into fresh tears.

The wind kicked a cruel spray of cold rain into their dubious sanctuary, soaking fawn and girl anew. The weight of the truth that she had nowhere to go and no idea how to even begin to create a plan was heavy on her heart, and Rose felt the tears welling again. She buried her face in Dante's neck to muffle her sobs, though surely on such an awful night there couldn't be anyone around to hear her.

Surprised by the sound of a voice, Rose visibly startled, cringing backwards on the bench as though she expected to be struck and hugging Dante closer to her in a protective embrace. She stammered something incoherent, then sneezed as she somehow got some of the rainwater up her nose.

Who on earth was this fellow, and what was he doing out so late? Peering over Dante's head, she studied him for a moment as she tried to gather her scattered thoughts. He wore garb that seemed to indicate he worked on a ship, if what her father had told her was true. A sailor then, and carrying a bottle. Drunk on shore leave, if the reputation she'd heard of sailors was to be believed. Could this miserable evening get any better? Despairing, she bowed her head and rested it against Dante's gently, intending to just ignore the interloper in hopes he'd go away.

Dante, however, butted his head gently under her chin with a soft bleat, then tried again to gather his gangly long legs in closer out of the rain and chilly autumn wind. Rose took this as a reminder that, even now, she ought to disport herself as a lady of quality and be courteous, even though he'd probably just mock her sad state of affairs. Raising her eyes to the stranger's again, she took a deep breath and began anew.

"H-he's not my pet, sir," she corrected as politely as she could around sniffles and chattering teeth. "He's a guardian. I... I was just..." Sniffles threatened to break into sobs as she thought yet again of her fight with her father, the words they had spoken; but another light bump of Dante's skull against hers kept her grounded for the moment. "I was just m-made to leave home," she manged. "I've nowhere to go and no coin to pay my way if I did. So I am here." With a forlorn shrug, her eyes welled up again and she resumed her quiet sobbing.

Rose blinked at the coin, the chill of the autumn rain seemed to have slowed her thoughts; her mind felt like it had been dipped in molasses. It was nearly as unpleasant as the rain itself, to say nothing of the odor of the sodden fawn in her lap. Was... was he offering to help?

Blue eyes flicked from the coin to the man that held it, and she measured his smile warily. Her father had warned her not to trust the intentions of strange men. Not that she had any specific idea why she shouldn't, but there was something in his smile that seemed to lend weight to her father's words. That, and it very much looked like he was making sport of her misery. But she was freezing cold and Dante's desperation for warmth was like a skewer through her skull, pounding in time to the beat of the rain and the tiny creature's shivering.

One last, piteous bleat from the fawn decided her and she nodded. "If you please, sir, I would most appreciate any aid you could render," she said, trying to be as gracious as she could under the circumstances. She was keenly aware that if a poorly chosen word or expression ran off her new companion, she'd never find help before dawn. If even then.

Dante bleated again and shook rain out of his ears; Rose winced as she was splattered again and sighed. "Dante will appreciate it too, I'm sure," she added with a decidedly damp air of resignation to the fawn's lack of manners.

Staring in dumb surprise at the coin in her lap (she had half expected that to be a little harder, but apparently the sailor was good to his word), Rose almost forgot to thank the fellow as he staggered away. "Th-thank you!" she called into the rainy gloom where she could just make out the swaying figure in his long coat vanishing into the murk.

She looked down to Dante with a weary smile and kissed the top of the fawn's soggy head. "Well, that's a blessing, anyway," she sighed, then tried to convince her numb limbs that it was time for one last effort before she rested. It took a bit of work, rubbing her hands and feet until circulation returned, but eventually she stumbled out of the park.

Palisade was the city of her birth, but nevertheless she'd never been to this particular borough before, having run for a few minutes, then walked for several hours just trying to gather her wits after the altercation with her father. Now, the pampered pet of the court hadn't the first clue where she was. Spotting the shingle for an inn with a lantern yet lit in the window, her face broke into a grin. Luck really was with her tonight, it seemed, as the Cat and Wren was still open for business.

The sign was faded and the steps creaked ominously as she made her way to the door, but Rose could not have cared less. Even if it was drafty and the roof leaked, it would still be warmer and dryer than out here.

The innkeep, a portly old gentleman with a ruddy face that spoke of a love of gin, was a mite confused when she wanted a room for the whole night, and had only a sodden deer for a companion. But he'd seen stranger things and her coin was good. He was a mite reluctant to let the girl's pet in with her, but it wasn't like the beast could cause a worse flea problem than they already had, and he suspected the creature was one of those Guardian things he kept hearing about. Bad luck to cross one of them, he suspected, so up Dante came, climbing the stairs behind his weary mistress.

A good thing, too. The innkeep would never know the trouble he had avoided, but the earlier fight with her father had begun over Rose's governess trying to force her to leave the fawn outside on such an inclement night.

Once they were safely in their room, Rose turned the key in the lock and sighed in relief, leaning against the door a moment to gather her thoughts as Dante carefully ambled around, sniffing everything suspiciously. "It's alright, little one," she cooed softly, petting the fawn's ears. "We're safe as houses in here tonight."

With some difficulty between numb fingers and the offensively difficult snaps, buttons, and catches that made up her dress, Rose managed to disrobe and spread her soaked clothing out to hopefully dry somewhat by morning, then tumbled into the bed covered in rough sheets that nevertheless felt like some kind of transcendent heaven to the exhausted girl. She smiled as she felt Dante's wee bulk clamber and hop up onto the bed and lie between her feet like a loyal dog, his chin resting on the back of one leg. That was all the security she needed to fall soundly and deeply asleep.

* * *

In the morning, a hungry belly and a grouchy innkeep had Rose back out on the street quite early. Her clothes weren't even close to dry, but at least they looked clean enough thanks to the rain, if decidedly rumpled and limp. Her hair wasn't fit to talk about; rather than the elaborate strawberry-blond curls she typically wore, she'd managed to twist it up and back out of her face and affix it with a pin that had previously been devoted to holding her bustle just so. Ms. Gaynesford would have had a fit if she could see.

Looking around and feeling more than a little lost, though a great deal better for that sailor's kindness and a good night's rest, Rose debated her options. She could go back to her father's house, assuming she could even find her way, and beg to be let back in. But her father was stubborn and had been very cross, it seemed quite unlikely that he'd be willing to take her back, and she was utterly unwilling to listen to more of his shouting.

No, she couldn't go home. But if she were going to make it on her own, she clearly needed coin to spend for lodging. And, she amended as she nearly tripped over her fancy skirt yet again, more practical clothing. "Yes," she said, completing her thought aloud to her fawn as was becoming a bit of a bad habit, "The first order of business is to find a job. Come, Dante. Let's see what the day will bring us."

Her head turned sharply as a strange sound came to her on the morning breeze: the ringing of a ship's bell. Was she really that close to the docks? Come to think of it, she could smell a bit of salt on the breeze, and hear men's voices raised down the street.

There were pubs by docks, right? And pubs needed wenches. Serving couldn't be that hard, could it? You took orders, told someone about them, then brought them back to the customer when they were filled. She'd heard that the docks were rough, but her friend from last night had been a sailor and... drat, she hadn't gotten his name.

Already moving towards the sounds of ships and sailors as the docks awoke, Rose raised her chin. She was sure this was going to be difficult, but she didn't really have much choice. She had to have a job to care for herself and Dante, at least until her father's temper cooled.

Rose's head snapped up and she turned, scanning the crowd for the source of the familiar voice. She smiled widely on seeing her benefactor of the previous evening. "Well hello! Thank you again for your help last night," she said as Dante leaned against her knees, peering up at the sailor with curious golden eyes. "I'm here looking for work."

She blinked, blue eyes going wide as a thought occurred to her that caused her to blush in embarrassment. "Oh, Spirits help me, I'm so sorry. I never introduced myself! My name is Rose. Rose Bankes." Her expression was genuinely contrite as she smiled up at the taller man. "This is Dante, my Guardian." Recognizing his name, the fawn bleated and hopped on his front hooves a little, his little fluff of a tail wagging happily.

She tilted her head, taking in the man's rumpled, wrinkled clothes and the way he was moving. He seemed stiff, perhaps pained. "I'm sorry for asking, but... are you alright?"

Rose smiled at his introduction, Dante's ears flopping curiously as he too was addressed. Her smile widened with relief when he assured her he was well- but when he asserted she 'wouldn't survive a day' working at the bar her smile fell right off her face and she stiffened slightly, two spots of high color appearing on her cheeks at the insult. "What in the world do you mean by that? It can't be that hard. Take orders, deliver them. Learn the difference between a few different kinds of ale. I'll be fine. Just you watch!"

Reaching up with a scowl, she snatched the "help wanted" sign tacked to the window and stomped up the two steps into the door. With a disconcerted bleat and a clatter of hooves, Dante followed. Rose was stopped almost immediately by the smell. Spoiled food, stale beer, and other less savory aromas rose from the sawdust-covered floor that looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in a few days, if not a few weeks. There wasn't any light in here to speak of, but she could make out the slumped and lumpish forms of two patrons here already, one at a table and the other bent over the bar, contemplating the contents of his glass.

There was a fourth person present, of course; the bartender. A man in his late thirties, heavyset and sporting quite a luxurious beard, he was wiping the scarred surface of his bar and regarding this new arrival with a strange expression, somewhere between fascination and wariness. The odd look only intensified when Dante hopped through the door and skidded to a stop at the stench that had caused his Chosen to waver.

After the silence stretched on a few seconds too long for comfort, the bartender cleared his throat. "Help you, miss?"

Shaken from her stench-induced stupor by Finn's voice, Rose blushed furiously and stepped forward, ignoring the bartender's raised eyebrows to slap the help-wanted note down on the countertop. "Yes. I'm here about the job."

"You. Wanna work 'ere." It wasn't a question the bartender asked as much as a statement he was using as a tool to attempt to grasp the strange direction his morning had taken.

Her smile beginning to wilt again, she nodded. "Yes, of course I do. That's..." She looked down at her deer, who blinked up at her curiously. "Did I not just say that?"

"That one o' them Guardian things?"

"Yes, he is," she answered, a hint of irritation creeping into her tone. "His name is Dante."

"'E'll have to stay out here. No animals in the kitchen."

"Oh, well that's fine," Rose answered, her smile returning that the man hadn't threatened to make him put Dante out on the street. "He'd be underfoot anyway. I can just tuck him in a quiet corner somewhere, he'll be a good boy. Won't you, dear?" She smiled fondly at the tiny animal and scratched under his chin.

Clearly having a variety of second thoughts about his life choices, including this one in particular, the bartender looked heavenwrad for help, and when he found none just shrugged. "Alright, yer hired. Y'get tuppence a night, plus tips. Well, don't just stan' there, run the man 'is drink."

He poured Finn's pint and shoved it across the top of the bar to Rose, who barely managed to catch it, squeaking as the foam sloshed over the rim onto her hand. "No reason to go and throw things at people," she grumbled crossly under her breath as she delivered the drink, but she smiled at Finn triumphantly as she set it down. "Here you are sir. That'll be... um..." Realizing she had no earthly idea what she was supposed to charge, she looked back at the bartender who was once again staring at the ceiling.

"I'll just put that on yer tab, shall I, sir?" he asked Finn with the aire of a man resigned to having a terrible day indeed.

Initially pleased at her success, Rose's smile soured at the amusement in Finn's eyes. Heroically resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him, she nevertheless huffed and switched her skirts in irritation as she followed the bartender- Charlie, as his name turned out to be, back into the kitchens.

With an annoyed snort, Dante took refuge under Finn's table, though the fawn chose to hide under the opposite side from the one the sailor was occupying. He could hear the series of thumps and bumps as the deer folded his long legs and the grumpy sigh as Dante rested his head on his hip and prepared for a nap.

After a few minutes, Rose returned, each hand burdened with a steaming bowl of stew garnished with a large hunk of rough bread and a spoon. She set one down before her other customer, and the second before Finn. Catching sight of one of Dante's white hooves under the table, she shook her head and chuckled. "Well, you met the tyke's approval," she commented offhandedly to Finn. "Can I get you anything else, sir?" She crossed her arms and sat into one hip with a 'see-I-told-you-so' smile as she felt she was currently doing quite well.