20th of Summer, 514 AV
The Scholar's Demise proved to be more welcoming than Savos had expected. After a long day at work, Savos' trip home was interrupted by an impulsive detour to the tavern. He had never enjoyed drinking alone, but here in Lhavit, Savos had an unremarkable number of friends to call on. He did not have anything to do at home. He needed a break.
He kept himself busy by conversing amicably with the barman. He was the sort of man who could get people to talk about themselves and then listen. As Savos began digging into his third drink of Time's End, an older man joined the conversation. He looked worn out and rough.
“I'll tell ya,” he said, interrupting the previous conversation, “people are getting' more an' more stingy with their money. These days, I spend more time bargainin' with the customers than I do makin' ma wares.”
“That's rough,” The barman replied, completely unphased by the fact that he had been cut off. “What do you sell?”
“Bah, you don't want to hear 'bout an old artisan rantin' on 'bout makin' clothes for folk. What about the kid?” He said, pointedly at Savos. “I ain't seen you round here before. You don't look Lhavitian neither.”
Savos smiled politely at the man, glad that his presence had been acknowledged. He had feared that the old man would steal the barman's company.
“That's because I'm not.”
“Oh, let me guess, I'm dreadful good at knowin' where the people are from. Foreigners come by me shop all the time.”
“By all means.”
“Well, not many humans are as dark skinned as ye. I know the Benshiran people are, but I ain't seen no benshiran ever wear their hair like that. I seen Myrians do it, but you ain't got no tattoos-”
“Well, actually, I am Myrian.”
“Really? I'da never guessed, boy. good thing ye stopped me. The accent's Myrian too then, I suppose.”
“No, it's Denvali,” Savos replied with a grin, knowing it would confuse the man.
“Ach well, ye're a real riddle, lad!”
They laughed, and the conversation went on. They sat together for a few more hours, urging the other to have another drink until both found themselves almost ready to admit that they were drunk. The old man confessed that his wife was probably getting worried, so they shook hands and he left. Savos remained at his table, ready to finish his drink and call it a night.
His moment of peace was not a long one. Two men, seemingly as inebriated as Savos, invited themselves over to the table and took a seat across from him. The one who spoke had a rugged face, and a scar across his left cheek.
“Y'know, I overheard ya with old man earlier. Didn't want to bother him, he's a nice enough man, but I heard ya. You're Myrian, yeah?”
Savos didn't reply. He did not enjoy the condescending tone.
“I known a few Myrians. They tell me an idiot without tattoos ain't worth nothin'.”
“You getting at something, buddy?” Savos replied heatedly, his blood rising. He knew in the back of his head that this sort of commentary was one he would usually ignore. Something about the alcohol mingling with his bloodstream said this reaction was much more appropriate.
OOCSorry, long post D:
LedgerTime's End x4 - 4 Kina
Flame King x1 - 3 Kina
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