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Fantasy A Fantasy Tale

WhichSwampWitch

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When in the city, Athras liked to frequent the markets. Not because of any coin he had to spare, but because there was something new every day, and it kept his hours busy. It didn’t matter if it was the food, a stall with imports, or simply the people… He always saw something equally as fascinating as what he saw the day before. On the days he didn’t have to barter, it was nice to find ingredients for potions and poultices he normally couldn’t find elsewhere. He also liked to be sure his pockets had enough sweets for his youngest patients, just in case. Shameless do-gooder, some might say, but he wasn’t in mind to care about it. Athras liked to do things on his own, and more importantly would dig his heels in further if someone suggested he not do something.

With recent life events, it was no wonder he found some solace in staying busy. It kept him from overthinking, and it made him feel like he was still a part of something. Much like now, in the dimming of one such busy day, that he found himself in one of the local taverns. One that he’d found friends in before – though, it was much louder than he remembered it. Or had he just grown accustomed to quiet nights?

Athras sat near the bar where he could still make out words over the music being played, his tired expression looking a little out of place. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? Might put some warmth in those cheeks,” the barkeep suggested.

No, not yet. Can’t decide if I’m looking for company or just enjoying the ambiance for now,” Athras answered, tossing just enough coin onto the bar. “Whatever drink you might suggest will be enough.


ooc: feel free to let me know if I need to add anything (:
 
It was the time when days were long and the sun glinted gilden. When work was abundant, when parched air fanned the forge's heat to unbearable smolder. Bards told of wicked tales, and couples laughed through dance, breathless... Life was effervescent. This was Aeryn's most beloved spell of year: its aestival delight.

The dark descended and his smile shone radiant as this man moved about his hometown's tavern, through thick crowds of people, beneath the weary wicks' flicker. Myriad summer days of his turned from smithing labor to just as many nights pouring drinks. Less alacritous folk might call Aeryn a man frenzied — too much work, too little rest. He wouldn't change it for the world.

One hand tamed a long strand of coal-colored hair, fallen to his brow as he scurried back behind the counter. Pointed ears picked up bits and pieces of conversation, drew his eyes to a new guest. He recalled this particular patron that now sat before him, the elf with the worn expression. Yes, it had been a while, but he came to know him still. It had been partnered with another man that last he had sought their tavern. They had chatted awhile then, before duty had seemed to call the duo elsewhere. Though it looked that fellowship had not lasted, as he now sat the bar alone with a somewhat gloomy face, and posed, Aeryn mused to himself, a pretty man waiting for someone to brighten his pretty face.

"Hilda, I seem to remember telling you not to frighten off our customers!" he chastised the barkeep in jest, smile in his voice. A sure hand snatched the mug of ale from beneath the keg — ere Hilda could do so and thwart his plans — to serve it to the other man. "One ale for the indecisive elf!" He flashed a warm smile, his eyes' gleam resplendent. "Though I'll say it's a night much too lovely to spend brooding by yourself. How about I help your decision-making? Lifting heavy hearts is my specialty."
 
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Athras had never done things small, he didn’t seem to know how to. At least, that was what his younger brother would admit. When he cared, he did so very deeply… And no matter of Rilien – handsome, darling Rilien – saying it could be too much would have ever changed that. Athras knew that to be true, that accepting and honoring his feelings instead of ignoring them did more good than harm. Harm reduction is what he did best, after all.

So today, it felt difficult.

The gilded hour didn’t warm him like it normally would have, and he missed the sandy shores of home. He missed the warm breezes, the familiar walks… Most of all, right now, he missed going in bare feet. It didn’t matter that in civilized society that was purely silly. The collective energy of earth below kept him connected, grounded, in other words. He hated his shoes but he didn’t like the dirty tavern floors more, no matter how the warmth of life and light had drawn him in.

While he missed home, Athras wasn’t quite ready to return to the sandy beaches, nor the ‘I told you so’ glances. It was easier now to find comfort in the unknown, instead of facing the reality that his brother and his friends – they had all been right. However gentle in his intentions, Athras only knew how to push, and push more.

While it made him a damn good healer by natural ability alone, it made connection just a touch more difficult. Healing, easing the collective discomfort… He could do that. Healing his own, well. He’d never been a very good patient.

Athras began to watch as the barkeep’s job was quite simply whisked from her hands, placing a kind, familiar face in front of him. With his chin resting on his hand, a spark of interest showed in his expression. Wasn’t that pleasant smile just darling? “Why, are you offering company and bad decisions? Because I’m good at those and not so indecisive,” he teased, a short laugh. “It really is a lovely night, isn’t it? I’m pleased to see you’re still here after all this time.”
 
Those were just the words Aeryn wanted to hear, and his toothy grin grew impossibly brighter.
"So I am, certainly. What ever would this place be bereft of me?" he sighed; feigned pathos. "Though I'll offer you just the best, of both company and choice."

Just an ell away, Hilda shook her head in a somewhat charmed resignation; she made to leave in discretion. It had taken her but a trice to master the wonder of this sudden onslaught. Not the first time she had dealt with it, evidently. She was used to Aeryn's antics. Perhaps a little too well.

"And the choices are many," went on the friendly mischief by the bar. "What would you have me do? Chant a song? Regale you with tales? ... Or perhaps you'd care for a dance?" alluded those last smirk-suffused words to merry figures about the floors, animated, song-swayed by voices smoked and honeyed.

His argent eyes kept trained on the other's, shone dark with a rush of novelty, flirtation. It really was a lovely night. Increasingly lovely.
 

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