04-11-2018, 11:59 PM
“Can you believe the nerve? Who just does that?”
Riel smirked to herself as she listened to the banter that dotted the warm, cozy little tavern she frequented. As the night wore on and drinks were poured in greater and greater number, the quantity and volume only seemed to increase. Her own glass, which was filled halfway with a deep, rich maroon liquid, was touched to her lips, contributing to the pleasant warmth that was growing in her cheeks and ears.
She had come alone, as she frequently did, and as innocuous as anyone else in Castanea once outside the ornate armor of the Wardens. While she had long, silvery-blue hair that was pulled into a braid thrown over her shoulder, so too did at least three others in the tavern. While her skin had a strange, otherworldly silver hue beneath it, it was easily overshadowed by a scaled tiefling who was, loudly and drunkenly, apologizing to a rather irate bar maid who had, just moments ago, found a clawed hand securely placed on her rear.
The woman’s most striking features were her eyes, fiery and intense as they were, but with the general hustle and bustle of the establishment during its prime operating hours, and her general familiarity with the tavern, even they attracted minimal attention.
She could observe in relative peace, commenting to herself in her own, curt sort of humor as she made guesses at how each interaction was going to go, and just generally enjoyed the amusement that came from such an atmosphere during the semi-“off-time” she had from her typical duties.
Most of said guesses were correct, though that came with years of practice.
“Apologies won’t save him with Selene,” she murmured to herself. As if on cue there was a resounding SLAP!, a series of pained “Oooohhhhh”s, and the sound of a breathy, but self-assured woman ripping into the unfortunate tiefling that had yet to know better.
Riel smiled as she took another sip. “Three out of three.”
“Astute. But an easy call, that one, wasn’t it? Rather expected.”
She was interrupted by a voice, and the aasimar’s bright eyes flickered over to her side where a man had seemingly materialized. He was leaning on the polished wooden surface of the bar, his chin resting in his hand. He was watching her, his dark eyes glimmering with a mixture of interest and good cheer.
The woman set her glass down.
“Yes. But the tally stands.”
She turned her head to fully take in the man’s appearance. He was well-dressed, with a thick mane of dark hair that was left to fall in waves over his neck and shoulders. He was clean shaven, seemingly human, though in Castanea nearly everyone had a drop of celestial or infernal blood somewhere in their lineage.
However, he wasn’t familiar.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
The man shrugged. “Thought perhaps you could use a partner in some conversation. People watching, is it?” His dark eyes darted around the room, passing over several groups of merrymakers before they settled on a large man that was confidently rising to his feet.
“He,” he pointed out, nodding in the direction of the man. “Is going to take a rather amusing misstep. I’ll bet any gold.”
Riel followed the man’s gaze. The man in question was rugged-looking, but cheery. While he bellowed with a friendly candor, there was no trademark drunken slur to his voice.
She looked back at the man with a raised brow.
“Wait for it,” the man said.
As if on cue, the man stopped suddenly, and his sure-footedness seemed to melt as he staggered and tripped over a pulled out chair, spilling ungracefully onto the floor with the chair behind him.
For a moment there was silence, and then the tavern broke into laughter that was quickly overpowered by the large man’s own deep belly laugh.
Riel’s new companion smirked.
“One for one. And you didn’t expect it.”
The aasimar, who had turned to watch the spectacle, glanced back at the man. An intrigued smile touched her lips, and the man promptly straightened with a confident smile and gave a small nod of his head in formal greeting.
“Call me Orin.”
Riel smirked to herself as she listened to the banter that dotted the warm, cozy little tavern she frequented. As the night wore on and drinks were poured in greater and greater number, the quantity and volume only seemed to increase. Her own glass, which was filled halfway with a deep, rich maroon liquid, was touched to her lips, contributing to the pleasant warmth that was growing in her cheeks and ears.
She had come alone, as she frequently did, and as innocuous as anyone else in Castanea once outside the ornate armor of the Wardens. While she had long, silvery-blue hair that was pulled into a braid thrown over her shoulder, so too did at least three others in the tavern. While her skin had a strange, otherworldly silver hue beneath it, it was easily overshadowed by a scaled tiefling who was, loudly and drunkenly, apologizing to a rather irate bar maid who had, just moments ago, found a clawed hand securely placed on her rear.
The woman’s most striking features were her eyes, fiery and intense as they were, but with the general hustle and bustle of the establishment during its prime operating hours, and her general familiarity with the tavern, even they attracted minimal attention.
She could observe in relative peace, commenting to herself in her own, curt sort of humor as she made guesses at how each interaction was going to go, and just generally enjoyed the amusement that came from such an atmosphere during the semi-“off-time” she had from her typical duties.
Most of said guesses were correct, though that came with years of practice.
“Apologies won’t save him with Selene,” she murmured to herself. As if on cue there was a resounding SLAP!, a series of pained “Oooohhhhh”s, and the sound of a breathy, but self-assured woman ripping into the unfortunate tiefling that had yet to know better.
Riel smiled as she took another sip. “Three out of three.”
“Astute. But an easy call, that one, wasn’t it? Rather expected.”
She was interrupted by a voice, and the aasimar’s bright eyes flickered over to her side where a man had seemingly materialized. He was leaning on the polished wooden surface of the bar, his chin resting in his hand. He was watching her, his dark eyes glimmering with a mixture of interest and good cheer.
The woman set her glass down.
“Yes. But the tally stands.”
She turned her head to fully take in the man’s appearance. He was well-dressed, with a thick mane of dark hair that was left to fall in waves over his neck and shoulders. He was clean shaven, seemingly human, though in Castanea nearly everyone had a drop of celestial or infernal blood somewhere in their lineage.
However, he wasn’t familiar.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
The man shrugged. “Thought perhaps you could use a partner in some conversation. People watching, is it?” His dark eyes darted around the room, passing over several groups of merrymakers before they settled on a large man that was confidently rising to his feet.
“He,” he pointed out, nodding in the direction of the man. “Is going to take a rather amusing misstep. I’ll bet any gold.”
Riel followed the man’s gaze. The man in question was rugged-looking, but cheery. While he bellowed with a friendly candor, there was no trademark drunken slur to his voice.
She looked back at the man with a raised brow.
“Wait for it,” the man said.
As if on cue, the man stopped suddenly, and his sure-footedness seemed to melt as he staggered and tripped over a pulled out chair, spilling ungracefully onto the floor with the chair behind him.
For a moment there was silence, and then the tavern broke into laughter that was quickly overpowered by the large man’s own deep belly laugh.
Riel’s new companion smirked.
“One for one. And you didn’t expect it.”
The aasimar, who had turned to watch the spectacle, glanced back at the man. An intrigued smile touched her lips, and the man promptly straightened with a confident smile and gave a small nod of his head in formal greeting.
“Call me Orin.”