Timestamp: 75th of Summer 513 AV
The Meadows Public House was busy when Jabran finished work. Symenestra and non-Symenestra alike had come to to have a drink or some food, to catch up the events of the day, to see old and grizzled friends, or simply to close that elusive deal by using a bit of liquid power to loosen a miser's purse strings. The room was filled with all types of people: friends and enemies, traders and hunters, gamblers and thieves; all with a different reason for being there. Ale and mead flowed freely at this time, passing hands as easily as grains of sand through open fingers, the smell suffocating to those who abstained.
It was the end of another working day and Jabran had been given a rare night off. Picking his way through the people he found an empty table away from the warm hearth. It was not ideal but it would have to do. He loosened the green tunic he was wearing that betrayed him as a member of staff and released a slow, steady breath. His black eyes surveyed the room, looking for troubles makers. No, he scolded himself. It is your night off. He had been told to relax, to loosen up. He had been told that he took things too seriously. He did not have to think too hard to remember where he had heard that before. It was the reason that he had been sent from the desert of Eyktol, the reason he had ended up living in a cave that was too dark for him to see properly in.
Sonara Aconite, niece of the proprietor Laudavyn, walked over to him, smiling. "You look like you could use a drink, dear", she said as she placed a tankard of ale in front of Jabran. He eyed it suspiciously, muttering a thank you as she went back to work. He liked Sonara. She was warm, welcoming and charming. Her only notable flaw was that she was Symenestra, although he had at least began to accept them even though he still viewed them as lesser and dangerously volatile creatures, though he had no evidence to support this view.
The rest staff appeared to like him also. There were hellos in the morning and good nights in the evening, a secret smile of a private joke he didn't understand but was supposed to or an acknowledgement when he had done a good job. Unbeknownst to him, however, some of the members of the Aconite family who worked in the public house had a pool going to see who could make him smile first and when. The pool was getting quite large.
Jabran sat alone, a lonely stranger in a half known place, the ale on the table before him, untouched. Beside the ale sat a pair of dice, no doubt forgotten by a wandering gambler, deep purple in colour with whisps of dream-like white interlaced, as if there was smoke which came off a candle trapped inside, and dots of black on each face. He had not noted the dice as he stared mindlessly into the crowd. To him there appeared to be a wall around him, a radius of sorts that no-one could cross without his express permission. It was a wall that he created himself that had to be torn down brick by brick if he was to survive the season in this strange cave-city.
The Meadows Public House was busy when Jabran finished work. Symenestra and non-Symenestra alike had come to to have a drink or some food, to catch up the events of the day, to see old and grizzled friends, or simply to close that elusive deal by using a bit of liquid power to loosen a miser's purse strings. The room was filled with all types of people: friends and enemies, traders and hunters, gamblers and thieves; all with a different reason for being there. Ale and mead flowed freely at this time, passing hands as easily as grains of sand through open fingers, the smell suffocating to those who abstained.
It was the end of another working day and Jabran had been given a rare night off. Picking his way through the people he found an empty table away from the warm hearth. It was not ideal but it would have to do. He loosened the green tunic he was wearing that betrayed him as a member of staff and released a slow, steady breath. His black eyes surveyed the room, looking for troubles makers. No, he scolded himself. It is your night off. He had been told to relax, to loosen up. He had been told that he took things too seriously. He did not have to think too hard to remember where he had heard that before. It was the reason that he had been sent from the desert of Eyktol, the reason he had ended up living in a cave that was too dark for him to see properly in.
Sonara Aconite, niece of the proprietor Laudavyn, walked over to him, smiling. "You look like you could use a drink, dear", she said as she placed a tankard of ale in front of Jabran. He eyed it suspiciously, muttering a thank you as she went back to work. He liked Sonara. She was warm, welcoming and charming. Her only notable flaw was that she was Symenestra, although he had at least began to accept them even though he still viewed them as lesser and dangerously volatile creatures, though he had no evidence to support this view.
The rest staff appeared to like him also. There were hellos in the morning and good nights in the evening, a secret smile of a private joke he didn't understand but was supposed to or an acknowledgement when he had done a good job. Unbeknownst to him, however, some of the members of the Aconite family who worked in the public house had a pool going to see who could make him smile first and when. The pool was getting quite large.
Jabran sat alone, a lonely stranger in a half known place, the ale on the table before him, untouched. Beside the ale sat a pair of dice, no doubt forgotten by a wandering gambler, deep purple in colour with whisps of dream-like white interlaced, as if there was smoke which came off a candle trapped inside, and dots of black on each face. He had not noted the dice as he stared mindlessly into the crowd. To him there appeared to be a wall around him, a radius of sorts that no-one could cross without his express permission. It was a wall that he created himself that had to be torn down brick by brick if he was to survive the season in this strange cave-city.
