29th of Spring, 515AV
The Alements
Ashar never thought that this would happen to him. He (or Jek, rather) had read so many stories about the washed up warrior, that stereotypical fighter who got so angry or dejected or pessimistic that he did nothing but drink the days away. Each time, each story, Ashar swore to never become such a sad and pathetic soul so as to actually feel the need to waste the days. He determined himself to always be doing something interesting and fulfilling, to find a way to serve himself and his city, to drive onward and upward. So great was his loathing for these fictional layabouts who spent their lives at bars and taverns and contributed absolutely nothing to their race or even their city, so powerful was his disgust at their mention in any story, that he vowed even at a young age that he would never be anything like them.
Which was why Ashar began hating himself the moment he began walking along the docks looking for a tavern to drink away his time.
What would Jek say? Ashar asked himself angrily as he stomped along the docks, catching the occasional stare as he brought along his own little personal cloud of dourness. Sadness welled up inside of Ashar as he realized that this was the first time he ever had to ask that question rhetorically.
Usually Jek would be incapable of remaining quiet and not giving his two Mizas on every thought that jumped into Ashar's head. For a long time Ashar thought of it as annoying in the extreme, but now that his thoughts were met only with silence he felt a crushing loneliness whenever he wanted a companion. So many emotions that Ashar never had to deal with before were now popping up in his mind, and without Jek to talk it out with he was left completely unsure of how to approach anything. It was almost as if Jek's absence left Ashar to pick up all the emotional baggage that he usually carried. This obviously could not be the case, but it did not change the fact that Ashar was missing his dark brother greatly.
With Jek's silence, Ashar's own thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind without anyone else to bounce off of. Many feelings and ideas of anger and injustice and sorrow and shame surfaced in his mind, left to fester by his unwillingness to address them with anyone else. Ashar was so totally unused to these things that he was beginning to buckle under the weight of them all. He desperately needed someone to talk to, someone to think with... but instead he went looking for a drink.
In two steps, the surly Kavran came to a stop. He had lost himself in his thoughts and completely lost track of where he was going. Had he passed the Kulk already? Was he even going to the Kulk? He didn't care, the nearest place would do.
That's when Ashar turned to face the cove of the third tier of Riverfall and came face to face with a sight he had not seen for a while. Before him sat squat against the docks and piers was the Alements, with its front patio lit by stylized lanterns and cushy seats. Much detail had gone into its design, that was for certain. The last time Ashar had been here was almost a year ago, when some fool broke into it and tried to steal something. Never had Ashar been a patron, but there was that faint flicker of recognition behind his eyes.
Although he was far more familiar with the Kulk, the Alements was right in front of him and both served liquor. Wading into the entrance of the tavern, Ashar pulled up alongside the bar and propped his elbows on it, slouching over the counter slightly.
There he sat, waiting to be served. How truly pathetic he had become.
The Alements
Ashar never thought that this would happen to him. He (or Jek, rather) had read so many stories about the washed up warrior, that stereotypical fighter who got so angry or dejected or pessimistic that he did nothing but drink the days away. Each time, each story, Ashar swore to never become such a sad and pathetic soul so as to actually feel the need to waste the days. He determined himself to always be doing something interesting and fulfilling, to find a way to serve himself and his city, to drive onward and upward. So great was his loathing for these fictional layabouts who spent their lives at bars and taverns and contributed absolutely nothing to their race or even their city, so powerful was his disgust at their mention in any story, that he vowed even at a young age that he would never be anything like them.
Which was why Ashar began hating himself the moment he began walking along the docks looking for a tavern to drink away his time.
What would Jek say? Ashar asked himself angrily as he stomped along the docks, catching the occasional stare as he brought along his own little personal cloud of dourness. Sadness welled up inside of Ashar as he realized that this was the first time he ever had to ask that question rhetorically.
Usually Jek would be incapable of remaining quiet and not giving his two Mizas on every thought that jumped into Ashar's head. For a long time Ashar thought of it as annoying in the extreme, but now that his thoughts were met only with silence he felt a crushing loneliness whenever he wanted a companion. So many emotions that Ashar never had to deal with before were now popping up in his mind, and without Jek to talk it out with he was left completely unsure of how to approach anything. It was almost as if Jek's absence left Ashar to pick up all the emotional baggage that he usually carried. This obviously could not be the case, but it did not change the fact that Ashar was missing his dark brother greatly.
With Jek's silence, Ashar's own thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind without anyone else to bounce off of. Many feelings and ideas of anger and injustice and sorrow and shame surfaced in his mind, left to fester by his unwillingness to address them with anyone else. Ashar was so totally unused to these things that he was beginning to buckle under the weight of them all. He desperately needed someone to talk to, someone to think with... but instead he went looking for a drink.
In two steps, the surly Kavran came to a stop. He had lost himself in his thoughts and completely lost track of where he was going. Had he passed the Kulk already? Was he even going to the Kulk? He didn't care, the nearest place would do.
That's when Ashar turned to face the cove of the third tier of Riverfall and came face to face with a sight he had not seen for a while. Before him sat squat against the docks and piers was the Alements, with its front patio lit by stylized lanterns and cushy seats. Much detail had gone into its design, that was for certain. The last time Ashar had been here was almost a year ago, when some fool broke into it and tried to steal something. Never had Ashar been a patron, but there was that faint flicker of recognition behind his eyes.
Although he was far more familiar with the Kulk, the Alements was right in front of him and both served liquor. Wading into the entrance of the tavern, Ashar pulled up alongside the bar and propped his elbows on it, slouching over the counter slightly.
There he sat, waiting to be served. How truly pathetic he had become.
