Going over my notes on the original Patreon version of this post, my inspiration for Kat being exhausted from work was apparently me being exhausted from work,
© J.B. Norman — Published by Emona Literary Services™
“Ugh,” Kat groans, flopping face-down onto her beloved plaid couch. “That was the worst thing ever!”
Kat thought being a professional adventurer was supposed to be exciting and glamorous and profitable. However, her recent expedition with Amara to the aptly-named Badlands
Pillars of fire! Lakes of acid! A sky raining ash! Vicious barbarian clans threatening to dunk them in the lakes of acid! A supposed evil sorcerer who actually turned out to be a pretty nice guy — okay, that part wasn’t so bad. At least until his tower starting collapsing and almost dropped them into one of the acid-lakes.
And the single most ill-tempered pack mule Kat has ever met!
She wants to lie on the couch, bury her face in one of the pillows and just sleep for the next three days.
More so than usual…
“Scooch over, Katherine,” Amara urges.
When Kat doesn’t budge, Amara grabs her long legs and pulls them off the couch so she can fit in the now-open space on the couch.
Kat is so tired she doesn’t mind sleeping on a multi-elevation diagonal like this in the absence of any other option.
“That really was quite tiring, wasn’t it?” the Elf asks.
Kat mumbles into her pillow.
“Look at this!” Amara cries. “I’ve broken six different nails! That’s more than half!”
Kat mumbles into her pillow.
“Still,” Amara continues. “I don’t usually have the opportunity to go boldly adventuring with my best and dearest friend in the world. And what a pair we make. We’re like Sibylla and Fulminata, or Princess Adelheid and Sparklemane.”
Kat is roused by this enough to raise her face from her pillow.
“Are you seriously comparing me to a horse?”
Amara blinks bashfully. “We’re like fish and chips?”
That just reminds Kat how hungry she is.
“Amara,” she groans. “I’m hungry. But I’m also too tired to stand up. Can you make me some lunch, please?”
Now, it’s Amara’s turn to be roused to indignation. “Excuse me, Katherine? You may be my best and oldest friend, but what makes you think I’m any less exhausted than you are?”
And, of course, actually making lunch is not one of Amara’s strengths. Usually, the maids do all the work and the food just sort of appears on Amara’s plate…
“Please?” Kat asks.
“No. Besides, you still owe me for rescuing you for that thicket of malevolently sentient thorns. The least you could do is thank me.”
Amara glances over to Kat, who has buried her face back in her pillow and is now snoring blissfully.
“Oh, well,” Amara says with a yawn. “It can’t be helped.”
She lays her head down on the plaid couch’s armrest and drifts off to sleep.
A little while later, Dunstana comes into the living room. Seeing her sister and Amara asleep on the couch, she takes the blanket from the other couch and drapes it over the two of them, making sure to completely cover Kat’s head with it.
“Heh,” Dunstana laughs to herself, feeling incredibly pleased.
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