Time Stamp: Winter 7
No one told her it was going to be this cold. She might not have believed them if they had, but the point was moot now. Zeltira, the city with the famed University, was freezing cold in winter. At least compared to the tropics of Blackrock. Riverfall hadn’t been too bad, nor the Sea of Grass, nor even the Wildlands. But Zeltiva made Aryanha want to light her accommodations on fire just to enjoy the warmth they’d provide.
She’d have to see about a proper place to stay soon, maybe even sell her horse and pick up a job. Assuming she’d stay here long. Winter wasn’t a good time for travelling but if it got colder what good cheer she’d managed to stir up since finally arriving at her destination. But she had to manage her priorities first. And more important than finding a place to stay was making herself known to the university so that she could take advantage of its resources and professors. There was so much to learn and it filled her heart with warmth knowing that attaining proper tutelage was once more within her grasp. But not so warm as a good mug of ale, which brought her to her even more important priority. Celebrating!
A night of boozing was definitely in order. She could pitch her tent on the outskirts of the city for now. It would be cold, but she could handle it until she found somewhere proper. Worst came to worst she could always eat her horse. Maybe she’d meet some sexy professor from the university at a tavern and she could stay with him. Now that sounded like a good plan. A year curled up in a library with a hearth and an elegant, intelligent instructor to help her refine her skills and blossom new ones. How could any of them possibly resist her?
Not that her llama wool dress did much to display her features, especially with her heavy cloak bundled around her to stave off the cold. She’d be lucky to attract anything other than a cold in this weather. The first tavern she saw, a thing building just shy of decrepit with a dolphin painted on the sign—either that or a drunk shark, it could be either really—she ducked inside of.
The warmth hit her first, a mixture of the bodies packed inside and the torches lining the wall. She threw back her head and cloak and simply basked in the glorious heat for a few moments. The establishment carried with it all the usual stinks and stenches of its sort. Spilled alcohol, torch smoke, and body odor from men after a hard day’s labor. The sailors especially carried with them their own smells that she was learning to identify. Tat and pitch, grog and salt. The dolphin or drunk shark tavern sold fried fish. Somebody had just ordered a fresh plate.
More than a few eyes found her when she opened hers. Many glanced away while just as many leered. A halter top dress wasn’t exactly appropriate for this time of year, even if it was made of warm llama wool. And there wasn’t a single woman as tall as she was in the entire building, though there were plenty of females of varying walks of life, from girls with painted faces to those in modest dresses clutching books tight to them in the corner. Academics from the look of them, sharing in good cheer from the look of them.
Aryanha made to head in their direction but a disdainful glance from one of them brought her up short. She was tempted to stroll over and sit down at their table just to spite them but resisted the urge. This was her first night properly in town and she didn’t want to get off on the wrong coil. At least not until she was good and plied with enough alcohol to make every man in the place gorgeous as the gods. Then she could go and steal their boyfriends, assuming those stuck up would-be scholars had anything resembling love lives.
She idled up to the bar and parked herself next to a girl who didn’t look all that different from the academics but who wasn’t accompanied by anyone. Aryanha paid her no mind as she grabbed the barkeep’s attention and signaled for a mug. Perhaps she’d order a bit of fish while she was at it. No, probably best not to whet her appetite before she could land a proper meal. Just the booze then.
She took a long drag and dropped her tankard back to the table, savoring the taste of the warm beverage. Apparently heated alcohol was the way to go in the winter and she couldn’t say she disagreed with the effect it had on her throat and belly. She glanced over at the girl beside her and took a more studious look.
“Okay, you keep moping like that and you’re gonna make my drink taste like tears. I swear, it’s like you’re trying to throw a wet blanket over the whole room. Who’s the guy that dumped you and how hard you like me to kick him between the legs when I see him?”
