Open Night Out

[Naiya]

Summer day 33, 514 AV
Just after nightfall

Rue peered into the depths of the tavern, the dim of night brightened by well placed lanterns that were bright enough to see by if not quite cheery. An assortment of glasses, both bottles and mugs, reflected the warmth of the lights in their shapes.

Made of more wood than fabric, it wasn't quite the usual, not quite a tent of the traveling city, but it traded out for feeling open, and allowed the warm breath of summer to flow through the space rather than confining it one way or another. It would suit them well, she thought.

"Here?" Rue questioned Shahar, a soft brush of her fingers on his forearm, the briefest touch, alerting him to her intent to stop. Wood scarred by bored hands and idle knives supported the pavilion, showing that the place was frequented if not well loved.

So early as it was, and with a mass prayer being held in only moments, the tavern was nearly empty. A burly Drykas man tended the counter, a polishing rag in his hand, a young woman, related to the bartender in some way from their looks, wiped down scarred tables.

The place called to Rue, and she hoped her companion would be agreeable.

[Colt]

Baultimes Barrel was a weathered old thing, well-marked by use but still strong in construction. The entrance was open, the cloth pulled back and the interior exposed to the night breeze, although how effective a method it was to cool the place down was debatable.

Shahar Dawnwisper was made aware of their stop by the briefest ghost of a touch on his arm––one that startled him for a moment until he could collect himself enough to see where it was Rue had brought them.

Shahar peered into the not-quite-a-tent. He’d passed the place before, and he had heard those at the Hunter’s Rest speak of it with eagerness when afternoons turned into evenings. He’d never actually been inside, though, as he’d simply never had business or whim to take him to the place; it was somewhere that revolved outside of his everyday life, and so he’d never had any reason to visit.

But this was where Rue had brought them, and it certainly wasn’t as if he disliked the place; it was open, in its own way, and it was at least somewhat resembling of a tent. It was not the kind of place that would close around him and make it hard to breathe, and it presented no reason for him to be averse to entering. If this was where Rue wished to be, then he too would be here.

Alright, he agreed, sign lacking any real positivity or negativity. He stepped into the taver and waited for Rue to take the lead again.

[Naiya]

She thought he would be more... something. Instead, a careful neutrality met her posed question. Concern furrowed her brow and shaped the set of her lips. He stepped inside, though, and so she followed, seeking a seat along the bar over a more confining table. Easier to move if needed, more open because Shahar did not care for closed.

The corner of the bar suited Rue, it would be comfortable for Shahar, and it would assuage her insecurities by placing her back to one of a few closed corners. No one would come up behind her without her noticing.

The stools at the bar were tall, so Rue had to sort of hop to find her seat, though she realized, Shahar would have no such difficulty. Such things had once made her wish she had been gifted with a few more inches of height, though now she did no such thing. Had she been taller, she would not have fit so comfortably into his embrace. How fickle of her.

She settled into her seat, watching to see if Shahar showed signs of reluctance to join her. Baultime moved towards them, a subtle offer to serve their drinks, and Rue signed a polite as you will towards the man, whatever he was serving would do for her.

[Colt]

Rue moved into the tavern behind him, then beyond in search of a place to sit. Shahar followed her quietly to one of the corners, where a light, portable bar had been set up along with a line of stools. It was well-chosen, Shahar realized; they would both be afforded a full view of the tavern, and unless someone came straight through the wall they would not be surprised by an unexpected approach. Although, such a thing seemed unlikely anyway, as empty as the tavern was.

Rue placed herself onto a stool, and Shahar took a moment to contemplate the one next to her. He didn’t have a great deal of experience with stools, but it wasn’t particularly as unappealing as it was simply unfamiliar to him. He sat upon the thing with care, posture displaying the concentration one might display when they were in the process of figuring something out. But he was settled soon enough, and he turned his attention first to Rue, then to the large man who approached them.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was the man required of them, but Rue seemed to; she gave a quick as you will to him, a gesture that Shahar mimicked. The man blinked at them, then turned and went off to get whatever it was they had ordered.

With that bit of business out of the way, Shahar took a moment to glance about the room. It was warm, although not so warm as to be stifling, and wasn’t truly all that bad. He kept part of his attention on Rue, as well, should she wish to say something to him, but other than that did not volunteer any conversation starters; after the tense exchange at the seamstress shop, he simply didn’t have anything to say. He had never been the sort to talk for talking’s own sake, but he would gladly partake in anything Rue felt like discussing.

[Naiya]

Shahar was soon seated, although for a moment Rue wondered if he would change his mind, an intense concentration shaping his posture. He remained beside her though, and she was afforded a moment's peace as he mimicked her own order.

The quiet stretched between them, and for a while Rue was comfortable in it. Her gaze stretched past Shahar to the broad opening of the tent where one person or another gave not a second glance at the odd pair alone in the tavern, but Rue's note of them was a cursory one, not nearing her usual observance. Instead most of her attention was pulled back to Shahar. He wore the same clothing as he had the last time she saw him, not unusual, but it caught her attention because he had spoken of wanting to replaced the rather battered pants, and had done so.

Yet he wore them still, gone past soft with use, well into the stages of needing to be replaced. So why wasn't he wearing the replacements?

"Shahar." His name sent a quiet thrill through her as she turned her attention more fully toward him. Wariness crept into the shape of her body, followed by bemused, tempered concern. "Did I sell you clothing you dislike?" Her question came softly. "You can bring them back, find some that suit you better." She was offering, correcting a mistake because it was not fair to have taken the badger pelt and left him with clothing he wouldn't wear.

[Colt]

“Shahar.”

The hunter gave Rue his full attention.

“Did I sell you clothing you dislike?” she asked, posture cautious and offering. “You can bring them back, find some that suit you better.”

Shahar looked down at himself. It was true, he was not clothed in the items she had given him the day he had approached her with the badger. In all honesty, he had been a bit reluctant to begin breaking them in; the grassland would set into them quickly, no matter how careful he was. And his worn pants were still within a point of use, so he had opted to continue wearing them as long as he could, and therefore stave off the wear that would inevitably fall onto his new ones.

Waiting, he said after a moment. These, he gestured to his pants, are dying. But not yet. Perhaps ‘dying’ wasn’t the best word to use, but it was the closest sign he could find for what he wanted to say. Will die, but still alive. New pants, grass bites and tears. Waiting. These die, then new. Still useful. This still useful, if new becomes worn, pointless. Preserving new, much as possible, last longer.

His hands lingered in the air as he considered if there was a way to make his point more clear. After a moment, however, he decided that he’d said what he’d wanted to say and let them drop into his lap.

[Naiya]

The full weight of his attention was startling, and for a moment she felt rather like prey in a snare. She breathed a soft sigh of relief when he dropped his eyes to his clothing, and his hands began to sign his explanation.

Understanding She offered, as his hands dropped, signaling an end to his slightly unclear response. He preferred to wear his old clothing to scraps, and that was fine, for it meant he didn't dislike the clothing. Maybe it meant that he rather found it too nice, but that wasn't really a problem, he could easily support a far finer wardrobe on only a single day's fruitful hunt.

Maybe he didn't realize it was so, or maybe he didn't care for such things. It wasn't her place to point it out regardless.

"I am glad." relieved her hands clarified, "I worried that you hadn't liked them once you'd left the shop." She would have babbled on if it hadn't been for the arrival of their drinks.

"House mead." The man informed them, looking like he'd have liked to sit and drink it with them, "It's a nice batch this evening."

"Thank you." Rue responded, a smile turning up her lips, "I'm sure its wonderful." The man grinned in response to her comment, and Rue sipped from the glass.

It was very sweet, almost too much so, but it was cool relief from the heat even with it's gentle burn. Her attention had turned away from the man almost instantly, first to her drink, and then towards Shahar, waiting to see his response. Hear his opinion on the beverage before she offered hers lest she contradict him and cause him upset.

[Colt]

“I am glad,” Rue replied, relieved. “I worried that you hadn’t liked them once you’d left the shop.”

Not so, reassurance.

She looked ready to say something else, but was cut off by the return of the bartender. Shahar swiveled to face the man as he placed two tankards onto the bar in front of them.

“House mead,” he said. “It’s a nice batch this evening.”

Shahar thanked him and peered into the tankard. It was filled with a thick golden liquid that was unfamiliar to him, but it gave off an odor that he found intriguing. He glanced at Rue and saw her take a sip from her own drink, and so he lifted up his mead and lapped at the surface. It was stronger than any drink he could remember drinking, sickly sweet in a way that bordered on unpleasant, but the aftertaste was... magical. Altogether, it was a drink that Shahar didn’t quite know what to think of, and so he took another sip.

With an actual quantity of liquid to swallow, Shahar discovered the characteristic burn of the mead as it slid down his throat. Again, it had a peculiar taste and feel, but it was bearable and the aftereffects were pleasant. Shahar’s posture was curious, exploring, and although there wasn’t a distinct liking there was no dislike, either; there was the sense of unknown, but also of exploring that unknown.

Deciding that he would drink the mead in small sips to try and gain a better understanding of his feelings towards it, Shahar returned his gaze to Rue.

Is this familiar to you? he asked, gesturing at the alcohol.

[Naiya]

Curiosity was not what she expected from him, but it was a neutral enough response. She took another sip of her own before setting it down. The sweetness was less overpowering with her second taste, but it was the lingering lightness that was really pleasing.

She hooked the heel of her boot in a cross bar on her stool and used it to anchor herself in her seat so she could lean closer to Shahar, just subtly so, but it made her feel less distant, less like strangers more like they had come together.

Yes. She nodded, "But I have not had something like this in a while." She turned her attention to the golden liquid in her glass for a moment, "My family will drink watered ale with dinner on occasion." She contemplated how much more she may have wanted to share.

"I do not often drink something as fine as this." She made her own gesture towards the mead. New to you? She questioned him, her own posture echoing his both curious and exploring, but shaped also with interest.

It was a strong mead, or maybe Rue had just not had much in the way of alcohol in long enough that it held more sway over her. More likely she was just more tense than she had been in the past. Regardless way she could feel the relaxation spreading through her in a slow warmth that chased away her worries.

She would have to tread with care, or her mind would become clouded her judgement less sound and she would say something she would regret.

[Colt]

Yes, she replied. “But I have not had something like this in a while. My family will drink watered ale with dinner on occasion.”

Shahar’s gaze remained on Rue, although he lifted the tankard for another sip as she continued.

“I do not often drink something as fine as this,” she said. Then, to Shahar, she asked, new to you?

Yes, new, he responded, although the sign quickly evolved to have more emphasis on exactly how new: first experience.

He was becoming accustomed to the taste, and after another sip his body adopted a relaxed slouch over the tankard, lessening the distance it would have to travel when he put it back down. One shoulder was forward, the other back, slanting him in such a way that he was facing both Rue and the room in general. Although not fully aware of it, his characteristic tension was slowly beginning to ease away.