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With the clever use of a towel stuffed at the foot of her door, Freya's sleep remained undisturbed until hunger awoke her with its biting. With a yawn, a stretch, and several pops of her back she was as awake as one could be after a long patrol, she had barely gotten out of her armor before flopping onto her mattress midday the day before. With a sigh of content she began to take stock of herself and begin her day. No wounds to take care off, armor doesn't need to be repaired, a wash was definitely in order, and a jug of wine sat on a shelf nearby. Everything was right in the world, until she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and the nightmare came flooding back. Her hair had gotten burnt, unfixably so. With a forlorn sigh Freya grabbed a dagger and went about the horrible work.

About an hour later Freya stood in a pile of her fiery red hair, her once flowing locks struck down. With a sigh she sweeped the pile into a corner and grabbed a small rag, wetting it in a fresh bowl of water before giving herself a scrub down. Within minutes over a months worth of dirt, grime, and stress was cleaned away. It had nothing on a nice dip in a hot spring, but it would do. Putting on some new clothes and downing a large cup of wine, Freya decided real food was in order. As expected the food wasn't the best thing she'd had but after a patrol anything that wasn't dried meat was heavenly. She noticed D'Orion fretting with some of the newer meat and decided not to get involved, instead enjoying the food in front of her and making a mental note to go to the Scarlet Dragon sometime.