4th of Fall, 514 AV
"Move it, petcher!"
Calters scowled in the direction of the voice. No one in here was being very polite, nor had they been polite for the past few days. It seemed to him that he was the only one with any sense left in Riverfall.
I'm doing the right thing by taking off work and celebrating. I can't let these people pull me down. I just need a little more ale...
What exactly he was celebrating was unbeknownst, even to the boy musician. All he knew was that the air had a strange quality about it. It felt like a song, hovering thick and heavy in the air, bringing a soothing bliss to nest inside his head. The song carried all throughout the city, sending various persons into a frenzy and cooling the torrential moods of others. Calters was one of the lucky few who were calmed by the feeling and Rhaus be damned if he wasn't going to celebrate a city-wide, cheerful song.
The Akvatari fluttered his wings indignantly and strutted up to the bar.
"I'll get a glass of wine."
The bartender squinted suspiciously, but fetched the drink nevertheless. It was strange to see anyone surrounded by ale so unhappy, but who was Calters to judge? I might be grumpy too if I couldn't drink any of it.
Just as Cal popped the top and took a long drink- much too big for wine- the same man from earlier bellowed at the top of his lungs. The Akvatari turned and glared at the offending customer. He wanted to cover his ears, but the wine would have spilled all over him and he very much preferred being dry and deaf than wet and scared by the loud noises.
"You wanna say that t'my face, you vagik? Huh? Huh?!"
The bartender threw down whatever he had been holding and scrambled forward, holding out his hands in a cautionary gesture. He began the same speech he delivered every day at work as he stepped between the angry patrons. It wasn't that he cared about them, but it was routine to throw out those who were drawing attention.
"Aye now fellas, this is a reputable business and we don't tolera-"
His words were broken mid-sentence with a sound that could only belong to the impact of flesh on flesh. A feral sound ripped from the attacker, turning him into a beast. He brought to mind pictures of predators with fangs and narrow, sharp eyes. His own eyes were indeed narrowed and his nose was crinkled and flared in rage. The sight might have been funny, had Cal's life not been in limbo.
The Akvatari tried his best to creep around the scene, avoiding the crumbled body of the bartender and avoiding meeting the injured man's eyes. His wings brushed gently against a table or two but the sound was unnoticeable. Despite the eerie silence of the calm before the storm, he nearly made his escape. Just before he reached the door, a meaty hand clasped his shoulder.
A growl met his ear, hot and fast.
"I suggest you gimme that bottle, ya li'l shyke."
Calters' eyes widened involuntarily. His hands gripped the bottle so tightly that he thought it might burst in his hands. When he found the courage to speak, it was little more than a whisper but the words sounded like gunshots in the hushed room.
"This is mine."
The thick hand spun him around and leaned close to the musician's face. When he spoke, he sprayed spit on Cal's face, which Cal quickly wiped away on his shoulder.
"Yeah? And now it's my weapon so I can teach this petcher a lesson. You wanna help or are you gonna give it to me?"
Calters stood frozen, mouth gaping open comically. His eyes blinked rapidly in an effort to process the scene, but he made no progress. It seemed, from the inside, that he was in shock.