12th Day of Spring 513 Late Afternoon The Rearing Stallion Leda just couldn't grow accustomed to the high walls of the city of Syliras. After living most of her life at sea, it had been a bit of a shock to find herself lodged in a small room with no windows deep into the ruddy bowels of a castle... not to mention that she was certain that there was rot in her chambers, indicated by a very oddly shaped furry patch on her ceiling. Earlier that day, she had stood on her one chair in order to reach it and get a better look at it, but the smell repulsed her entirely and she lost her balance, falling backwards off the chair, injuring herself (thankfully not very much) in the process and breaking one of the legs of the chair off. It had been a dismal start to the day on the whole and it did not get any better for, at first hobbling, through the streets of Syliras, she came to the conclusion that it was not a city with much call for many fortune tellers and that with her only skill thus useless, she should really look for a different sort of job. Unfortunately, she was not sure she was any good at much else. Dejected, having eaten nothing since the night before and her legs tired, she came to the Rearing Stallion, indicated by a red and white post hanging lazily over the door to the establishment. Although having heard a little of it, Leda had never entered before or, indeed, thought of entering before, but she had heard that it was, on the whole, a safe place, so she thought it could do no harm to enter and buy a little food and ale. If she was going to run out of money soon, she might as well do it sooner rather than later and actually eat tasty morsels, or something almost tasty. As she entered the tavern, poorly lit as it was, and slowly sat down in an available seat thankfully near the fire (even in Spring, in her light clothing, she could not help but always feel more than a little colder than she would wish) she wondered what would happen when she did run out of money and was faced with the prospect of starvation. Smiling cynically at the thought, she knew prostitution would then be her best option and if that didn't work... "A gallon of ale please. Anything, I am not really fussy. I'll also have a meal. Again, anything." Leda ordered quickly. If that didn't work, she'd come back here or to another dining establishment for she had heard that the White Swan Inn served good food, eat and eat and eat and eat all that she wanted and drink all the best wine that the establishment had to offer and, when the time came to pay, she would meet her punishment with open arms for she wouldn't be hungry anymore. She did not know what would happen in this case, but a desire to be a figure of tragedy sub-consciously hoped that it would be a very tragic and horrifying affair. Physically shaking these less than satisfying thoughts out of her head, straightening she turned to looking around at the other patrons occupying the seats in the tavern with a light, enigmatic smile, her chin resting on the palm of her hand, her elbow on the table. |