S
Sarre
Guest
Original poster
"Ha! Look at that! We've just found the coolest veteran in the business," Shena laughed, patting the hand on her shoulder with playful slaps. "Hope you stick around. There are a few local taverns that aren't bad around here." Friend count +1.
The group followed Erya like an obedient pack of hunting dogs. She was someone new, and someone old. From her, they'd leech veteran secrets. In return, they'd present to her as many scrap pieces of petty, local gossip that they could scrounge up.
"Setting a table on fire, huh. Damn. She might just be even worse than you, Shena," Lisette chuckled. "She's a generous drunk," she told Erya. "You know, in case you ever want to get wasted on a budget."
"Don't listen to her, that doesn't work anymore!" Shena insisted. More quietly, and with an embarrassed grin, she added, "It worked a little too well for a while." The first time she tagged along for a late tavern night had been modest - mainly because she hadn't known many people, and the people she did know were merely acquaintances. She'd been too afraid to drink enough. The second, half a week later, had been the same, because it had been a different group in a different place. Then people had gotten more familiar, and the blind joy became better and more expensive.
The glittering evenings were a lightning rod for the lighthearted, drawing them in loud, happy droves; repelling the introverted and the easily annoyed. The meals were gathered from the spoils of generous hunters. There would probably be various pork dishes tomorrow too, depending on how much they ate.
It was a stark contrast to the smouldering afternoons, when the people that had set out at dawn returned with layers of dust and sweat and a sour mood. Or the silent midnights, where there was usually movement, but only whispers for voices. You only had to know a person's favourite time to frequent the great building to guess what kind of a person they were.
The group followed Erya like an obedient pack of hunting dogs. She was someone new, and someone old. From her, they'd leech veteran secrets. In return, they'd present to her as many scrap pieces of petty, local gossip that they could scrounge up.
"Setting a table on fire, huh. Damn. She might just be even worse than you, Shena," Lisette chuckled. "She's a generous drunk," she told Erya. "You know, in case you ever want to get wasted on a budget."
"Don't listen to her, that doesn't work anymore!" Shena insisted. More quietly, and with an embarrassed grin, she added, "It worked a little too well for a while." The first time she tagged along for a late tavern night had been modest - mainly because she hadn't known many people, and the people she did know were merely acquaintances. She'd been too afraid to drink enough. The second, half a week later, had been the same, because it had been a different group in a different place. Then people had gotten more familiar, and the blind joy became better and more expensive.
The glittering evenings were a lightning rod for the lighthearted, drawing them in loud, happy droves; repelling the introverted and the easily annoyed. The meals were gathered from the spoils of generous hunters. There would probably be various pork dishes tomorrow too, depending on how much they ate.
It was a stark contrast to the smouldering afternoons, when the people that had set out at dawn returned with layers of dust and sweat and a sour mood. Or the silent midnights, where there was usually movement, but only whispers for voices. You only had to know a person's favourite time to frequent the great building to guess what kind of a person they were.