Recuperation [The Quill's Rest]

by **Aaryn Broadbent** on February 3rd, 2013, 1:31 am

Winter 86, 512AV
The Quill's Rest
Late Morning

Aaryn laid his head gingerly on the table. He had a champagne hangover, the ailment of the bourgeoisie. He'd cleaned up early in the morning, fighting the urge to go to sleep. He knew the sooner he slept the sooner he'd wake up to a world of regrets. Had he thrown up? He couldn't remember. It was entirely possible. He sighed at the thought of vomit in his cottage. He'd have to strip to his shirt sleeves and clean.

"Petch," he muttered to himself. He rarely swore, but he felt the time was appropriate. Etiquette loses importance when dealing with a hangover. He picked his head up from the table slowly as a young woman arrived with his kelp tea. He paid her and took a sip of his tea. He cursed as it burned his tongue and sat it back on the table. He rubbed his temples and reached into his cloak, pulling out his writing supplies.

He opened up the journal, took another sip of the scalding tea, and uncorked the ink vial. He dipped the tip of the quill into the ink and began to write.

"The Journal of Aaryn Broadbent, Winter of the year 512 after the Valterrian, the 86th day. Written in his own hand.

I may be a tad too sick to my stomach to do this. The letters don't seem to form right on the tip of my quill. Mayhaps I indulged too freely last night? As if that hasn't become a trend in my life. Have I developed a personality flaw? Is it truly a flaw if it gets me through the darkness? If it has become my torch, should I fear for myself?"

He closed the journal and leaned back, head splitting between his ears. He took another sip of the tea, it having cooled slightly, and let his eyes drift of their own free will.

by **Rozen Malphor** on February 3rd, 2013, 2:56 am

"Canst the living durst to live beyond life?"
-Rose
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rose entered The Quill’s Rest in Zeltiva. The area had a nice fireplace that kept the place warm from the winter outside, and there were books neatly placed all throughout the area. It was an extremely peaceful atmosphere, heaven for Rose

He walked into the area, looking around the area through his dark blue velvet hood on his cloak, and held his scythe as a walking stick. Gazing around the area to find an empty seat, he stops a man slouching back against the chair. He looked as if he had a rough night, as if he had drank a whole keg of ale.

Rose noticed an empty table nearby the man, and so he decided to vacate that table. He loomed toward the empty chair. When he reached the seat, he pulled it back and sat down before pulling himself with the chair back to the table. He stood his scythe up against the edge of the table before calling for some tea.

He turned his head towards the man and pulled off his hood. The man seemed like he was trying to stay awake. Rose thought he would help him.

“Methinks thou hath drunk overmany ale. Art thou fine?” Rose asked trying to keep the man awake

by **Ayatah** on February 3rd, 2013, 11:03 am

When Ayatah entered The Quill’s Rest, a few people turned around to glance at who had made the door creak open and close. The few that did glance towards her either stared, or spun back around and leaned forward to their friend
‘it’s the Myrian. Can those people even read?’

Yes. I petching I can she added silently, within her own mind. Sure, her people were known for killing and eating their enemies… But Ayatah was not a pureblooded Myrian. Her Eypharian father had apparently been a scholar, and Ayatah had certainly inherited his thirst for knowledge and answers.

Perhaps what Ayatah wore did not help her - a simple cotton shirt over her Myrian leatherwear, which cut away at her ribcage and thighs. Her creamy cinnamon skin was revealed on her stomach and legs, and with it, the scars, tattoos and piercings that she had accumulated in her Jungle home.

Still, ignoring the glances of surprise and hostility, Ayatah took the first free space that she saw available -- but almost retched when she sat down.

Myri, he stinks of… alcohol? Myrians were not big drinkers, but since moving to Zeltiva earlier this season, Ayatah had quickly become familiar with the faint stench of disappointment and vomit that usually accompanied a hangover.

She slipped out a small journal from her satchel bag, doing her best to breathe through her mouth and not her nose. Laying her papers on the table in front of her, Ayatah set down to writing and reading.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

by **Aaryn Broadbent** on February 3rd, 2013, 8:30 pm

"Don't, don't, don't, don't..." Aaryn whispered to himself as he noticed the newcomer notice the empty table nearby. Why couldn't the man just take a tea to go? Despite Aaryn's fervent hoping, the man made his way through the room, leaning on a scythe. He dropped down at the empty table and ordered a tea, pushing his hood back as he did so. Aaryn sighed inwardly. Of course.

"Forsooth? A bard in our presence? You speak archaically good gentleman. Doest thou wax and wane poetic?" Aaryn said, staring daggers through heavy lidded eyes. "You speak loudly stranger. Quiet your voice and have sense. This is a place for thought," he said, voice dropping to a near whisper. Around the room, conversations continued at around the same level. Aaryn's head continue to pound. He took a sip of tea and turned his head toward the door.

"Well, that's the strangest thing I've seen today," he muttered half to himself. A Myrian woman had entered the room, standing momentarily in the doorway before moving across the room...to a table near Aaryn. He allowed himself a glance at her form before returning to his tea. He'd always been fascinated by the Myrian people and had always planned a journey to their jungle home, to live among them for a spell.

"And in shoes too. More curious by the moment," he said, again more than half to himself. He took another sip of tea as the Myrian sat down, reaching into a satchel and pulling out a journal. Aaryn turned to face the man he had dubbed Bard.

"Be a good bard and fetch me ice water," he said, rubbing his temples with his fingers. It was going to be a long day.

OOCSorry about how god awfully rude Aaryn is to everyone. He's...a bit of a misanthrope.

by **Rozen Malphor** on February 5th, 2013, 6:56 am

"Canst the living durst to live beyond life?"
-Rose
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Listening to the man’s comments, Rose kept his cold gaze upon him. This was unintended of course, Rose simple lacked the ability to display a certain range of emotion. The comments the man made were somewhat rude. However, the man’s rudeness just flew past Rose’s head, and Rose continued talking as if it was a normal conversation.

“Nay, I’m not a Bard, my friend. Perchance this poetic query though besought is about the way I speak. Nay, I myself am no poet or writer. The voice I’ve been blessed with is from me dearest mother.” Rose said as he re-gripped his scythe, pulling it closer to himself.

After a moment, the man points out a Myrain woman has enter the building. Rose turned his head to see this woman. In his sight a woman with Dark long hair was walking in the room, see looked as if she was annoyed by the people in the room. She wanders a bit and grabs a seat by herself. Everyone was giving her a threating glare.

Rose doesn’t know anything about the Myrain race, this was in fact the first time he saw one. His curiosity began to burn; he wanted to know what the Myrain race beliefs are and how they lived. Rose turns to the man in hope to ask about the race, but instead was sent to fetch a drink. Rose had no problems with this because he was thirst as well. He picked up his scythe and fetched the drinks.

After obtaining the drinks, he began to walk back. However, his straight back to the table began distorted as some people left the area. He heard one of the people say something about the Myrian’s intelligence, and his path changed from his table to the Myrain.

by **Ayatah** on February 5th, 2013, 3:25 pm

"And in shoes too. More curious by the moment,"

Ayatah caught hearing of the word, and her dark eyes glanced over to the alcohol-sticking male next to her. Orignal, she though with contempt.

Though it had to be said, a Myrian in shoes was a particularly odd sight to behold. But as soon as she had arrived in the city, Ayatah had walked along the cobbled ground, and realised that in Zeltiva, shoes were necessary. She was still getting used to the feel of leather under her toes instead of mud and grass, and the blisters on her heel certainly showed the discomfort she felt. All in all, the wearing of shoes was on of the… more disconcerting changes to her life that Ayatah had made.

One of many…. She began sifting through the papers in her journal. Some were letters; some were notes she had made for herself. Finally, she settled upon a parchment half-filled with the messy scrawl of Myrian writing. A letter from her cousin, Ayatah knew instantly. She had not yet read it, and began scanning the paper quickly. She smiled and chuckled to herself once or twice as she read, and by the end of the letter, Ayatah leant back in her chair and sighed. Home seemed so far away, as well as the people within it. Her family, her friends, others that meant a great deal to her, all seemed like distant memories.

Someone was approaching, and Ayatah’s dark eyes moved from her paper upwards. Another man - different to the alcoholic-like one - was standing over her. ”Can I help you?” She asked coolly, eventually looking back down to her paper. It wasn’t uncommon for the people of Zeltiva to approach her and ask awkward questions… although they tended to be children asking whether she really would eat them if they didn’t eat their greens.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

by **Aaryn Broadbent** on February 6th, 2013, 1:36 am

Aaryn returned the man's stare with an equal chill. He didn't have the energy for a true glare, and all the squinting made his head hurt worse. He had hoped for a moment that his new companion would catch his mood and migrate to greener pastures. Unfortunately, today like every other day, was not Aaryn's day. Instead of leaving, the man continued to talk in his nonsensical fashion.

"Well...isn't that just touching?" Aaryn said, taking another sip of his tea. He watched the man watch the Myrian and smirked. He allowed himself another glance. She was pretty: possibly deadly and hungry for human flesh, but pretty. Aaryn sighed and turned his face back to his tea. His new found "friend" had gone to get them waters, which was good. Aaryn's mouth felt as if he'd licked the beach the night before, dry and grainy.

Aaryn watched the man grab their drinks and leaned back in his chair. However, the man didn't return to the table. He made his way across the room and stood in front of the Myrian's table. He watched as the woman's eyes took the stranger in.

"I doubt you can help that poor fool," Aaryn dragged his chair to the Myrian's table. He pulled his glass of water from his companion's hand and took a sip. Around the room hushed conversations continued, with the occasional furtive glance thrown in for good measure. "You make the crowds restless Myrian. I like that," Aaryn said, smirking and taking another sip of water.

Perhaps the day would be better than expected.