Madness by the Bottle (Verin)

by **Anona** on March 14th, 2014, 6:26 pm

Madness by the Bottle
23rd of Spring, 514 AV, Night

Normally, if Anona was to go out looking for a drink, for alcohol to dull his senses and memory until he couldn't remember why he'd been upset in the first place, the Malt House would be the last place he'd have looked. In the morning and during the day, there were whole families packed in, children who didn't know that it was polite to keep their hands to themselves; in the evenings, there were men who knew it, but thought they were above the niceties.

Tonight, impulsiveness led him to the Malt House. He could still feel James's touch on his shoulder, his legs, trailing over what felt like every inch of him, and he shivered until he thought he would shake apart. Every passing stranger felt like a threat, every brush against his covered arm an assault. He'd sent up a silent Thank You to Rhysol that he'd recently been forced to navigate the city without the ravosalas; he didn't think he'd be able to look a ravosalaman in the eye, let alone string together a complete, coherent sentence. He was hardly aware of his surroundings as he walked the pathways in the Merchant's Ring, save for the way he stiffened when any other figure approached him, and when he passed the Malt House his feet steered him inside entirely of their own accord.

As he stepped inside he was assaulted by the feeling of being surrounded by animals, the heat of warm bodies and the very dull roar of so many conversations being carried at once. Panic clawed at his insides, bubbling under his ribs and pressing upwards until he was certain he'd be sick all over the floor. He took three deep, deep breaths, and the cool night air behind him slipped down his throat and seemed to fill his chest, settling over the hot panic like a mist. As his breathing evened and the panic seeped out of him in waves, so too did the tremors leave his body, and once again he moved almost without thinking, this time towards an empty stool at the bar.

He slid himself into the seat. This sudden calm seemed tenuous, and he did his best to ignore the patrons to either side of him, instead focusing on the bartender closest. He was tall, probably as tall as Anona if he were to make a comparison, with hair the color of ash. It suddenly occurred to Anona that he'd likely have to interact with the bartender to get his drink, and although the panic didn't return in full force at the thought, it scratched at him in a warning, tap, tap, tapping at his ribs. He thought he probably looked ridiculous, hair still a mess and face flushed.

For the first time, when he instinctively began to worry about looking proper if anyone were to associate him with James, he thought, Good.

He cleared his throat as loudly as he dared, praying against odds that he'd draw the bartender's attention and no-one else's.

by **Verin Rush** on March 18th, 2014, 10:08 pm

*
Verin stared at the shelf in irritation. He was aware of the fact that there was a tall, beefy man waiting just on the other side of the counter for his flagon of ale, and he was aware of the fact that the man’s already beetroot complexion was probably turning more and more purple by the tick as he watched his server apparently stare aimlessly at a shelf. But that was the problem – that Verin could see the shelf. He could see the whole thing. There wasn’t a single mug or flagon on the shelf. It was empty. He cursed the kitchen girls under his breath before turning back to face the man, a smile plastered onto his face, “I’m sorry, Sir, it seems we’ve run out of flagons. If you’ll just wait here a moment…”

The blond bartender stalked into the back of the bar, where he found the girl he had spoken to over a bell ago about the dwindling amount of flagons. “Gemma, where are the drinking vessels I asked for? The flagons, mugs, glasses?” The girl stared at him blankly; it was clear that she had no recollection of being asked to do anything by him. "What?”

“Pardon.”

“Huh?”

Verin gave the girl a hard look, “‘What’ is not polite in civilised conversation. Nor is ‘huh’. I suggest you use ‘pardon’ in future interactions.” Noticing the girl’s still gawking expression, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead, he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, just below his brow. There was a man outside waiting impatiently for his drink and here he was giving lessons in diction to a girl less intelligent than the beasts they kept in the Kelvic Research Institute. “It is also not polite to gape like a fish, Gemma.” He turned away from the serving girl and grabbed the closest flagon to him, which he rinsed out quickly, if a little poorly.

When done, he turned back to the girl, who hadn’t move from the spot and his gaze hardened as he met her eyes, “Wash the rest up, girl, and do not forget this time.” The typically soft quality of his voice when he used the verbal magic on someone was not present this time he was angry and hadn’t given himself time to prepare. But as he looked back, he realized that either it must have worked, or the girl was frightened of him, because she was fervently scrubbing away at the vessels and plates. Turning, he took a deep breath and plastered the smile back onto his face as he reentered the bar. But the beetroot-coloured man was gone.

The elder Rush twin wondered silently why Rhysol was testing his patience tonight as the next punter, seeing a flagon in his hand, ordered some ale. The young man tried to shake thoughts of The Defiler from his head as he worked but the God seemed to be ever on his mind now, ever since he had come to Verin during the chase for the-

"Hey! Watch it!" Grayson’s voice pulled him out of his reverie and it was only then that he noticed the golden liquid pouring down his hand; he had overfilled the flagon. "Sorry about that, mate, seems our young Verin’s head is in the clouds tonight!" Always making a jest of things, Verin lurched forward as Grayson smacked him heartily on the back, "Now, go serve tha’ pretty lass over there, will yeh? Can’t get into trouble there." With Rhysol still weighing on his mind, Verin stepped down the bar to the only female in the room.
*

by **Anona** on March 23rd, 2014, 5:08 am

As the man turned and faced him, Anona felt whatever surge of confidence that had led him here draining rapidly from his body.

It would have been easy to say that the man looked like James, but that was not exactly the truth. Where James's hair was longer and shone like brass, the barkeep's was shorter, and the color of ash. This stranger's eyes were blue, yes, but they were warm, not cold and calculating. They were nearly the same height, the stranger and James, but then, so were most of the men that Anona had met in Ravok. The resemblance was faint, but it was there, and it made his blood run cold.

Anona chastised himself privately for his foolish reactions-- this man was not James. In all likelihood, he'd never met or even heard of him. There wasn't any reason to panic now more than he had moments before.

And this was exactly why he'd come here. As though he had suddenly remembered something that he'd forgotten, the need for alcohol's cleansing effect blared loud and insistent at the forefront of his mind. He wasn't a child, and it was absolutely ridiculous that he would react in such a way. He swallowed down his anxiety once more, and this time his anger at his own emotions lent him a burst of false confidence.

"I'll have a mug of ale."

It was only a small sentence, but it was something. He fancied briefly that one day he might be able to make small talk with strangers the way he'd seen James--

He shied away from thinking about the man once more.

"Perhaps I should make that two," he added weakly. He realized only after he'd spoken that he hadn't made any attempt to pitch it higher to sound more feminine.

by **Verin Rush** on April 7th, 2014, 2:46 pm

As he stood there, one hand rested atop the bar, the other placed upon the ale lever, Verin noticed the young woman's demeanour change as she looked up at his question. Her eyes trailed over his face, hair, and even his body, and it was clear that she was examining him in a way that the average customer would not. In turn, Verin did the same. Though not a particularly feminine looking woman, in face and in physique, Verin could not deny her beauty,and he found it easy to continue smiling as he watched her, and waited for her to make her order.

For a moment, the blond bartender wondered whether or not the woman was frightened of something, or someone. She had a look of nakedness about her, and not the I'm about to get some action gaze that Verin, a relative frequenter of the whore-houses in Ravok was used to seeing from the loose women who offered men their services with a constant smile on their faces. No, this was more of a rip out your heart and piss on your soul kind of nakedness that he noticed in her expression. If anything, he found it even more endearing, and it made her just that little bit more attractive.

And Verin was curious; a single woman, apparently frightened and sitting alone in a tavern, always had an interesting story. He deigned to find out, if only to satiate his own curiosity, rather than to be of any actual assistance. Being friendly and approachable, he had decided not long ago, was perhaps the best way to succeed at being a bar tender. Not that he wanted to remain as such forever, but such skills would continue to be useful long after he discontinued working at the Malt House. The woman was not an unattractive conversational partner, and time would only tell if she was an intelligent one too.

Finally she spoke and Verin bent down to pick up a small sized mug, though she changed her order and his smile widened, though, from under the bar, the woman could not see it. He put the mug back and reached over for a larger flagon, which would hold a pint of the golden ale. “I'll give you a pint, Miss.” he responded softly as he placed it under the nozzle and allowed the liquid to flow. It only took a chime or so and he placed it on the bar top and slid it over to her, still smiling as he leaned fotward and whispered conspiratorially, “you'll get more for your money in the long run.”

He ignored the gaze of Grayson and some of the other regulars, who he knew were grinning and staring at him as he served the woman. There was a small group of them who seemed intent to lead their lives vicariously through the young, fit and lean bar tender, and took pleasure at throwing him at every barmaid and single woman who walked through the large oaken doors. And sometimes even the women who weren't alone, much to the chagrin of Verin, and the irritation of the other man. Now, though, Verin was just relieved that no one was making and lewd comments. “Though, if it's something strong that you're after, I can offer you something else.”

by **Anona** on April 9th, 2014, 8:34 pm

The man's soft voice set Anona on edge. He set his forearms on the bar, propping one up so that he could rest his forehead in the cradle of his palm. The soothing tone was one that he'd heard so often recently. James was using it more and more often, pulling him into the bedroom, soft words and softer pleas to get him out of his dress or get him to spread his legs.

He shuddered and dug his fingernails into his scalp, and the pinpricks of pain soothed him. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Anona had always been willing to lie in James's bed-- the man was older, and charismatic, and it wasn't like Anona considered whores to be of a lower class than others. Offering sex in exchange for money was just as viable as selling any other good or service, in his opinion. So, why was this bothering him? He could hardly remember what had happened all night, but he felt like he was just a stack of bones held together by a string that was ready to snap, and at the slightest disturbance he'd crumble into nothing on the floor.

I can't remember, he thought. Why can't I remember? Why do I always forget?

He shuddered and took a slow, deep breath to try and calm himself. When the bartender offered him a pint, he smiled gratefully.

There was a man behind the blonde bartender, and when Anona's eyes wandered over to him, his gaze darted away and he grinned widely, turning to speak to the woman that stood beside him, who was watching the bartender. Anona's mouth tightened and his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he watched them in confusion. What could they be talking about?

When the man spoke again, offering something stronger, Anona was about to gratefully accept once more when a nearby patron laughed with a drunken roar, and Anona realized what the supposedly kind bartender must have been offering. Rhysol, was there nowhere a woman could walk on the docks without someone making a joke about getting under her skirts? Was there nowhere he could go without feeling like he could still feel fingers digging into the skin of his chest, his legs? He removed his arms from the bar, feeling suddenly as if he needed to have all of himself as close together as possible. He put his hands in his lap and cleared his throat before lifting his head to look at the man head-on.

"I-- I think a drink. Just a drink will do, thank you." He finally managed.

by **Verin Rush** on April 16th, 2014, 11:00 pm

*
For the briefest of moments, Verin saw something change in the young woman, something that suggested she was becoming slightly more relaxed by her location. And then, all of a sudden, the woman tensed up again. Whether it was at the sound of laughter from the men further down the bar proper, or from Verin’s own words, he did not know, and his mind retraced what he said in order to try to decipher which it might be. Deciding that his own words were sound and could not have affected the woman in such a way, he bent down and reached for a flagon. “I’ll be right back with your drink then, Miss. If you'll just wait right here...”

Turning away, pale blue eyes met three pairs of familiar ones, all regular customers, and the six eyes staring back at him were twinkling in the dim light of the bar. He scowled at each of them as he stood close and yanked back on the lever, harder than he probably should, in order to pour out the drink. “Grayson will not thank you for scaring away new customers, Gents… no matter how pretty you think they are.”He spoke softly, yet firmly to the regulars, intent on appearing cool and collected, rather than adding more fuel to their kindling fire. Whilst Verin enjoyed the company of the fairer sex, and was partial to the occasional visit to one of the man whore-houses in the lake-city, he was able to control himself, unlike these men. He knew that there was a time and a place, and it was clear from this young lady’s reaction that this was neither the time nor the place.

Glancing over, he watched his current customer for a few moments as, at a distance, he felt more able to take things in that he would otherwise not notice, were he closer to her. Most unusual was the way that she held herself, as if poised, ready to jump and flee at any moment. He frowned at this observation as he finished pouring the small flagon and let go of the lever, more softly this time than he had before. “I’ll thank you to return to your previous talk, and not ogle at the gentler folk here giving us their patronage.” Normally, he would not dream of speaking to punters like that, as it was a surefire way of driving off business, but Verin knew that these men were going nowhere, regardless of how the bartenders spoke to them, or what they called them. To these particular punters, everything was banter, no matter the subject matter.

To the general population of customers that the Malt House enjoyed, such banter was welcome. However, such was clearly not the case for this particular individual. For a moment, he considered why he cared, and why it even mattered to Verin whether the woman was happy or not. Any citizen of Ravok, as a worshipper of the Defiler, should be relatively hardened and prepared for discomfort or even threatening situations. Taverns and places with alcohol most of all; such locations were practically reserved for the less welcome experiences. If the woman was frightened of her own shadow, as she appeared to be, she should not be in such a place. Yet the woman was a paying customer, and Vein would serve her, no matter his personal opinions. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he made his way back over to the customer he was serving and slid the mug over to her. “Would you like any food with your drink?” He asked, trying once again to calm her by asking her only safe and normal questions.

by **Alyra** on August 16th, 2014, 4:05 am

Verin :

Anona :

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Closed Madness by the Bottle (Verin)