Timestamp: 83rd of Autumn, 513AV
It was getting colder every day, and Rosela had taken to wearing her cloak every day. She was determined not to start wearing her winter outfits until the official change of the season. It felt like admitting weakness somehow, though many in the city knew she was from the desert and would likely not think twice of her acknowledging the cold weather earlier than most of the city.
She would not admit defeat however, and trudged on in her chiffon dress and boots. Her feet were warm at least, and so long as she was inside, she was fine. The movement between locations however... It was this train of thoughts that had persuaded her to stop at the Kulkukan Tavern. She'd just gotten off work and looked forward to a day off the next day. She'd still be at the shop, but at least she could be alone.
Pushing through the heavy doors, Rosela looked around the room, finding it disappointingly empty. It had a somber feel, as though the dark clouds outside had sucked the life from the room. Shrugging out of her cloak, she settled in a seat at the bar, close to the fireplace and away from anyone else. None of the men in the room seemed to catch her fancy, so she opted to just get a drink, warm up, and make it the rest of the way home.
The wine she chose was decent, and she remembered abruptly that she never found out what wine had been served at Beautyfest; she'd ended up liking it a great deal before the end of the night. The firelight danced inside the glass, turning the pale wine a rich amber color. Leaning her chin on one hand, she swirled the glass mesmerizingly in front of her. The repetitive action felt soothing and she timed her slow breaths with the swirl of the liquid. She felt herself descending into a meditative darkness before she even realized it, and for a moment, wondered if she should pull out of it. No one would notice if she stared off into nothingness for a while, would they?
There came the abrupt scrape of a barstool a few feet away and Rosela looked over in vague interest. The man who sat was an Akalak, older than many she'd ever seen, and dressed in what she knew was an expensive, personally tailored suit. It was understated though; she wondered if any but someone in the business of fabric would notice the fine wool, or how it matched the flow of his body perfectly. He was a lean man, but not in the frail way that human men seemed to get in their later years. As he lifted his hand to order an ale, she noticed the flash of two gold rings on his right hand. His left was obscured, but she had an intense curiosity as to how well he was ornamented. Fine suit and gold: this was a man of means.
He glanced her way innocently, and caught her looking. Instead of looking immediately away, both side allowed the stare to linger, and the man broke it with a smile. His wine came, and he lifted his glass to her before taking a small sip. Pleasantly surprised, Rosela lifted her own glass in return. On a whim, she brought up her red fog and swirled it between the pair of seats between them. ’She’s beautiful, sit next to her, no harm in a talk, she’s all alone, she wants me to come over…’ She was careful to keep the ideas platonic, as she didn’t want to drive off a married man with the sudden thoughts. His smile widened and when he stood slowly, Rosela turned slightly towards him. He was too old for her tastes, but it would be pleasant to mingle with someone of means for once.
"I couldn't help but notice..." His voice was low and gravelly, and as he came closer to the firelight, she could see the deep lines over his face. "That a beautiful woman is sitting by herself. Beauty deserves company to appreciate it. Do you mind if I join you?"
Slightly taken aback by his propriety, Rosela felt a short blush creep over her cheeks. "Of course, please." She indicated the seat next to her, opposite the fire. Part of her wanted him to sit on her other side, closer to the fire, so he would better be able to see her, but she was loathe to give up the warmth. "Thank you," she added belatedly.
"No thanks needed, my dear. My name is Preskon Lrodat. And you are?"
"Rosela, the Clothier. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." She reached a hand out and smiled when he pressed a sweet kiss to it.
"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine."
It was getting colder every day, and Rosela had taken to wearing her cloak every day. She was determined not to start wearing her winter outfits until the official change of the season. It felt like admitting weakness somehow, though many in the city knew she was from the desert and would likely not think twice of her acknowledging the cold weather earlier than most of the city.
She would not admit defeat however, and trudged on in her chiffon dress and boots. Her feet were warm at least, and so long as she was inside, she was fine. The movement between locations however... It was this train of thoughts that had persuaded her to stop at the Kulkukan Tavern. She'd just gotten off work and looked forward to a day off the next day. She'd still be at the shop, but at least she could be alone.
Pushing through the heavy doors, Rosela looked around the room, finding it disappointingly empty. It had a somber feel, as though the dark clouds outside had sucked the life from the room. Shrugging out of her cloak, she settled in a seat at the bar, close to the fireplace and away from anyone else. None of the men in the room seemed to catch her fancy, so she opted to just get a drink, warm up, and make it the rest of the way home.
The wine she chose was decent, and she remembered abruptly that she never found out what wine had been served at Beautyfest; she'd ended up liking it a great deal before the end of the night. The firelight danced inside the glass, turning the pale wine a rich amber color. Leaning her chin on one hand, she swirled the glass mesmerizingly in front of her. The repetitive action felt soothing and she timed her slow breaths with the swirl of the liquid. She felt herself descending into a meditative darkness before she even realized it, and for a moment, wondered if she should pull out of it. No one would notice if she stared off into nothingness for a while, would they?
There came the abrupt scrape of a barstool a few feet away and Rosela looked over in vague interest. The man who sat was an Akalak, older than many she'd ever seen, and dressed in what she knew was an expensive, personally tailored suit. It was understated though; she wondered if any but someone in the business of fabric would notice the fine wool, or how it matched the flow of his body perfectly. He was a lean man, but not in the frail way that human men seemed to get in their later years. As he lifted his hand to order an ale, she noticed the flash of two gold rings on his right hand. His left was obscured, but she had an intense curiosity as to how well he was ornamented. Fine suit and gold: this was a man of means.
He glanced her way innocently, and caught her looking. Instead of looking immediately away, both side allowed the stare to linger, and the man broke it with a smile. His wine came, and he lifted his glass to her before taking a small sip. Pleasantly surprised, Rosela lifted her own glass in return. On a whim, she brought up her red fog and swirled it between the pair of seats between them. ’She’s beautiful, sit next to her, no harm in a talk, she’s all alone, she wants me to come over…’ She was careful to keep the ideas platonic, as she didn’t want to drive off a married man with the sudden thoughts. His smile widened and when he stood slowly, Rosela turned slightly towards him. He was too old for her tastes, but it would be pleasant to mingle with someone of means for once.
"I couldn't help but notice..." His voice was low and gravelly, and as he came closer to the firelight, she could see the deep lines over his face. "That a beautiful woman is sitting by herself. Beauty deserves company to appreciate it. Do you mind if I join you?"
Slightly taken aback by his propriety, Rosela felt a short blush creep over her cheeks. "Of course, please." She indicated the seat next to her, opposite the fire. Part of her wanted him to sit on her other side, closer to the fire, so he would better be able to see her, but she was loathe to give up the warmth. "Thank you," she added belatedly.
"No thanks needed, my dear. My name is Preskon Lrodat. And you are?"
"Rosela, the Clothier. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." She reached a hand out and smiled when he pressed a sweet kiss to it.
"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine."
