The eighty-eighth day of Summer, 513 AV.
"Lean and mean,
With hair like snow,
I wait for dreams
In him to grow.
Once he's sleeping, in I'll creep!
I'll hold my breathe, won't make a peep!
My hand will clutch this rusty knife,
And with it I shall end his-"
The sing-song tune was interrupted by the opening of the Warrens' door, revealing a tall, angry looking man who pulled behind him the limp arm of a sickly looking woman. "Ah! Welcome! Welcome to the Savintaar Warrens, the only place you'll ever need to stay during your time here in Avanthal! That is, assuming you're lacking in trade or craft and no Hold will shelter you." A little bubble of laughter escaped the pale lips of the young blonde leaning back into the chair positioned behind the desk near the back middle of the room.
The man didn't seem particularly amused, though his wife did venture a weary smile, most likely out of politeness than anything else. "Do take a seat if you would! I need only a single member from any party to find you an appropriate cabin." The woman sighed, thankfully nodding her head as she wormed her wrist from the man's grip so that she could rest her pitiful frame upon one of the many armchairs strategically placed about the room for both privacy and comfort. The man glared at Meville in a more harsh manner than he had been before. It seemed he'd overstepped his boundaries.
"Look. My wife and I need a place to stay. We're tired, hungry, and don't have time to deal with impudent waifs like yourself."
The woman's face quickly changed into a frown as she muttered something Meville assumed was the man's named followed by a scolding. Whatever she said, it was in a different language entirely. He raised his brows at the man now, checking to see if an apology were in the making. The only thing that met his gaze was an ever increasing hatred slowly twisting the man's face. "Ah, very well then. You mentioned food? We're not the catering sort of establishment. Should you be seeking sustenance tonight, I'd suggest the Luminary Commons. They're only a short-"
The man slammed his hands on the desk, his voice raised to a slightly intimidating baritone. "I don't petching care about any sort of petching shyke from you, boy." Clear enough. Meville managed to keep himself from glancing over at the woman's reaction, as his attention to her had been what seemed to set the man off in the first place. Nodding his understanding, Meville quickly flipped open the ledger and tapped his finger over several cabins that had been recently vacated. Finding the proper place to put the two of them, Meville ventured another question.
"Ah, we charge roughly a Miza per night. Of the gold variety." The latter was added at the behest of the man's pleasantly surprised look. It didn't win Meville any sort of points. "Whatever. Just give us a cabin for three nights. I'm sure we won't be staying any longer in this petching shykehole."
Meville bit his lower lip and nodded as the man reached into his coin purse to snatch three gold rimmed coins from its interior. The man slapped them on the table as Meville reached down into one of the bottom drawers. Rapidly flipping through the many sheets of paper connected to each respective key, he eventually drew out A2. Lovely. Placing the key on the desk as his other hand lazily gathered up the coins, he offered the man a final, toothy smile before bidding them good night.
The man looked for a second as if he were going to lose it and lay Meville out upon the floor right then and there, but the slight coughing noise from the back of the room distracted him long enough for his senses to cut in. He merely gave Meville a final glare before yanking his wife out of the chair and storming out into the night. He hadn't even bothered to shut the the door, the brute.
Sighing, Meville wrote down two names in the ledger under the current residents of A2: "Sir Spitsalot" and his lovely wife "Palefaced Brittlebones". Usually, when people weren't really cooperating with the way the Warrens were supposed to run, Meville would just scrawl in temporary names to be filled out later by Gininsi or Jennai. They'd told him on numerous occasions to just let guests be if they weren't overly fond of the idea of writing a name in a book or having it written for them. He had to admit, he hadn't asked, but given the circumstances, he doubted anyone would have faulted him for it.
The man didn't seem particularly amused, though his wife did venture a weary smile, most likely out of politeness than anything else. "Do take a seat if you would! I need only a single member from any party to find you an appropriate cabin." The woman sighed, thankfully nodding her head as she wormed her wrist from the man's grip so that she could rest her pitiful frame upon one of the many armchairs strategically placed about the room for both privacy and comfort. The man glared at Meville in a more harsh manner than he had been before. It seemed he'd overstepped his boundaries.
"Look. My wife and I need a place to stay. We're tired, hungry, and don't have time to deal with impudent waifs like yourself."
The woman's face quickly changed into a frown as she muttered something Meville assumed was the man's named followed by a scolding. Whatever she said, it was in a different language entirely. He raised his brows at the man now, checking to see if an apology were in the making. The only thing that met his gaze was an ever increasing hatred slowly twisting the man's face. "Ah, very well then. You mentioned food? We're not the catering sort of establishment. Should you be seeking sustenance tonight, I'd suggest the Luminary Commons. They're only a short-"
The man slammed his hands on the desk, his voice raised to a slightly intimidating baritone. "I don't petching care about any sort of petching shyke from you, boy." Clear enough. Meville managed to keep himself from glancing over at the woman's reaction, as his attention to her had been what seemed to set the man off in the first place. Nodding his understanding, Meville quickly flipped open the ledger and tapped his finger over several cabins that had been recently vacated. Finding the proper place to put the two of them, Meville ventured another question.
"Ah, we charge roughly a Miza per night. Of the gold variety." The latter was added at the behest of the man's pleasantly surprised look. It didn't win Meville any sort of points. "Whatever. Just give us a cabin for three nights. I'm sure we won't be staying any longer in this petching shykehole."
Meville bit his lower lip and nodded as the man reached into his coin purse to snatch three gold rimmed coins from its interior. The man slapped them on the table as Meville reached down into one of the bottom drawers. Rapidly flipping through the many sheets of paper connected to each respective key, he eventually drew out A2. Lovely. Placing the key on the desk as his other hand lazily gathered up the coins, he offered the man a final, toothy smile before bidding them good night.
The man looked for a second as if he were going to lose it and lay Meville out upon the floor right then and there, but the slight coughing noise from the back of the room distracted him long enough for his senses to cut in. He merely gave Meville a final glare before yanking his wife out of the chair and storming out into the night. He hadn't even bothered to shut the the door, the brute.
Sighing, Meville wrote down two names in the ledger under the current residents of A2: "Sir Spitsalot" and his lovely wife "Palefaced Brittlebones". Usually, when people weren't really cooperating with the way the Warrens were supposed to run, Meville would just scrawl in temporary names to be filled out later by Gininsi or Jennai. They'd told him on numerous occasions to just let guests be if they weren't overly fond of the idea of writing a name in a book or having it written for them. He had to admit, he hadn't asked, but given the circumstances, he doubted anyone would have faulted him for it.
Common | Vani
