Round One.

[Yva]

The oats went over first, spraying across the floor to crunch beneath boots. The bucket was next, sailing through the air and hitting the adjacent wall with a clang that made the livestock shuffle with irritable grunts. Two watering cans, a hose, and a section of chain were thrown onto the floor next. A storm swept through the barn, and nothing was spared - shelving was knocked askew, anything hanging on nails was callously thrown to the ground. Safety was only guaranteed by being behind a locked gate or a door, and even that wasn't fail proof.

Just ask the second ram on the left. Snowball was nosing about his trough, enjoying a mouthful of hay and minding his own business when the two humans slammed into the wall beside him. The noise alone was startling, but the ensuing rhythmic thuds were even worse, especially since they were followed by a muffled scream and the grating sound of fingernails on barn wood. He lifted his head over the wooden planks of his stall and snorted at the annoyances, letting them know under no uncertain terms did he approve of their antics.

Two sets of blue eyes turned to peer at him.

"Oh bloody nether. Do you think it knows?" The breathless female croaked, catching a glimpse of the straw in her hair and trying to pull it out.

"Possibly. Do you think I care?" The male buried his face in her neck and started kissing over her pale skin, eliciting another series of wanton groans.

" . . . I th-think it's staring, Jak . . . "

"Then close your eyes."

There was another thud and she shrieked, reaching for some leather straps hanging from the upper tier pegs and pulling down an entire stack of saddle blankets and a can full of leather brushes in the process. What didn't skitter across the floor quickly found itself kicked to doors, and in one instance, out the door completely.

Much to Snowball's dismay, the incoherent babbling, gasping, and thunking began all over again.

And then again.

It was a very long night for the residents of the Drachmas barn.

*****

"Ow, ow, OW!"

"Hold still Yva."

"Let's see how bloody still you stand when someone is pulling a splinter out of your bottom."

There was a suspicious snickering from behind her, and Yva glared over her shoulder just in time to hear Jak's "A-Ha!" as he yanked the offending piece of wood from her flank. He slid the tweezers just beneath her nose so she could see the half inch sliver that had caused her so much misery. Between the argument, the "reconciliation", and the literal pain in her arse, she'd had less than two hours of sleep. She looked a wreck; her head hurt thanks to the enormous bump on it, the backs of her thighs were riddled with scratches, and she'd broken over half of her fingernails.

"Thank you," she muttered, pulling her skirts down.

"Of course." He gave her a warm, guileless smile. She almost could have called it sweet, until he opened his mouth again. "I don't want to break something I'm going to use again."

"I hate you sometimes."

"But just at the right times." Jak grinned lazily and looked off around the ruins of the barn. "We ought to pick this place up before they see what we did to it, hmm?"

" . . . I still hate you."

"I'm sure."

*****

Haemon Shadowind had a few responsibilities around the farm beyond the callings of nannyhood. One was the care of the Drachmas family livestock, which required two feedings: one at just past dawn and one an hour or so before sunset. He waited until nine on this particular morning in case the "barn guests" were still sleeping off the previous night's argument. He couldn't say for certain that they'd had words on the dock, but there'd been a particular set to Jak's jaw that suggested something unpleasant was brewing beneath the stoic veneer. Knowing a good time to exit when he saw one, he'd set their pallets, said his goodnights, and gone inside with Fells and twins to keep order, all the while hoping a Balthasar family feud didn't involve demons, felfire, or the raising of undead armies.

There's been a few disruptions after that, odd clangs and thuds coming from the barn's general direction, but nothing that suggested the legions were about to pound down the doors, and so he didn't worry himself too much when he'd let his head hit the pillow. His sleep went, for the most part, unmolested.

He was quiet when he pulled open the barn door and stepped inside. Jak and Yva had already gone, it seemed, and though he couldn't spot a speck of evidence of their stay - their pallets looked unused - something wasn't right. He glanced at the rams, and they stared back as per usual, but there was a droop to their heads that made them look odd. At first he chalked it up to hunger thanks to a late breakfast, but then he noticed Snowball's eyes at half mast. He moved closer to the creature, searching for signs of malady but there was none.

"Are you . . . tired? You are, are you not."

It's tired, Elf. And delicious. Trust me.

Shad frowned at the voice in his head, running his hand over Snowball's horns. He knew having guests in the barn would be somewhat disruptive, but he hadn't anticipated the animals being THIS upset.

"Grain ought to help," he murmured, moving towards the sacks and bins of food in the back of the room. He reached up for the metal scoop on the upper shelf and . . . his hand met a gardening spade. Confused, he peered up. There was no scoop. Other things were arranged there, meticulously even, but out of order. He looked around and started picking up on other oddities. First was the watering can upside down in the corner, next was the saddle blankets on the shelf where the cleaning agents ought to be. The cleaning agents were where the hedge trimmers should have been, and there were loops of chains piled where the extra fence slats were stacked not twelve hours ago.

"What the . . . "

He spun around a few times, finally spying his feeding scoop over by the window on a peg, but paused as something bright red glinted in the corner of his eye. He squinted and then frowned, discovering the remnants of a perfectly lacquered fingernail wedged into the barn boards above a series of scratches in the wood. There was only one woman he'd seen with that particular shade of polish, and she'd slept in this very barn last night. Which meant they'd . . .

"Oh."

Ha, and you thought they were fighting!

Shad didn't know if he should laugh or cry.

*****

Hours later, back in Stormwind, Yva waited for the fallout from her escape to the Hinterlands. Jak had suggested that Sevens could be waiting to clap her in irons as soon as they returned to the city, but when he'd scoped out the apartment, no one was there. Everything was exactly how they'd left it. Sevens had either made a mistake by letting her slip free, or they were ambivalent about her trek and expecting her to do something more worthy of the Stocks than visiting her cousin.

The other option, of course, was that they had some sort of plan for her, and throwing her in jail now wouldn't be convenient.

What a bunch of rot. I'll talk to Tarquin or Bricu about it when I get the chance.

She distracted herself by cooking lunch. Jak was in the bath, likely pulling hay out of places she couldn't and didn't want to try and name, which meant she had run of the kitchen. She minced vegetables and sliced cheese, happy for the mundane tasks, but then her buzzbox started clamoring on the dining room table, begging for attention. With a frown, she wiped her hands on her apron and stabbed the appropriate buttons to open up the frequency.

"Hello?"

"Yva." It was Haemon. He sounded pleasant as ever, though that didn't really reveal much.

Drat. They'd cleaned up the barn properly, right? Yes, everything was back as well as she could remember it and there hadn't been any damages and . . . oh damn it.

"Oh, Haemon. I . . . is everything well? Fells is all right? How are the twins?"

"She and they are quite fine."

"Good. Very good."

There was a long, awkward pause between them. She stared at the box in hopes it would mystically explode. A thought or two of blowing it up herself crept in, but that'd be a waste of perfectly good technology and she'd have to deal with him sooner or later, anyway.

Please don't ask about it. Please.

"I did have a question, if you do not mind," he said.

Yva started wringing her hands, her cheeks preemptively going warm.

Jak said we broke nothing. We didn't. I know . . . he hasn't even asked anything. Don't borrow problems.

"Of course. Anything."

"Well it pertains to the small tornado that seems to have hit the barn."

There was a smacking noise as her palm struck her forehead. It was likely loud enough that he'd heard it, and the heat in her face had gone from small ember to raging inferno. She turned to glare at the closed bathroom door, furious that the man who claimed to love her had left her to handle this horrific conversation on her own. He was as guilty as she was, and it simply wasn't fair that she had to deal with the aftermath alone. Of course, Jak probably would have just laughed anyway, which would have made her kick him.

Oh, I still want to kick him. I bet he knew. That bastard knew and that's why he took his bath now instead of after lunch. I'm not sure how he knew, but . . . well, maybe he didn't. But he ought to have been here to deal with this. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

"I . . . yes, that."

"A localized storm perhaps?"

" . . . well no. We were arguing."

"Ah."

Another long pause, and she wiped the apron over her face to mop up the fresh sweat. "Just some harsh words and . . . I'm sorry if some things are out of place. I'd hoped everything had gone back to where it belonged."

"About these harsh words. Did they by chance cause Flaadhun to use the wall as a chew toy?"

Her eyes clenched tight, and she wadded the apron up into a ball so she could bite it. She wanted to answer, truly - she'd come to think of Haemon as a friend, after all - but it seemed like all of her words were lost to the overwhelming desire to spontaneously combust.

"Because I am hoping you are going to let me assume Flaadhun used the wall as a chew toy."

She managed a gurgle. There was so much apron in her mouth that she could barely breathe, never mind make paper-thin excuses.

Say something, anything, you twit. He probably thinks you're an idiot as well as a trollop.

With a muffled groan, she tugged the apron out of her mouth, instead twisting it around her hands so tightly it bit into her skin. More silence stretched between them, and she cleared her throat, doing her best to piece together the shreds of her dignity.

"I do apologize for the damage. I can pay to have it repaired."

"No, no. No need. It is just a barn, after all. The animals will do worse than that."

" . . . I see."

So if there's no need to repair it, why are you putting me through this? What, do you just like mortifying me? Oh good gods you do. You CAD. You utter CAD.

"I . . . yes. Well. Was there anything else, Shad?"

"No, I think that is it. I will see you soon?"

"You will."

He clicked off, leaving her staring at a silent buzzbox. She was angry and embarrassed and looking for someone to blame. With a string of colorful curses that sent the pets diving beneath the furniture, she stomped towards the bathroom, shrieking like a harpy.

"JAKOB. THIS IS YOUR BLOODY FAULT."