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67th of Summer
Was it that day again? Damn. It used to be one of his favorite days in the year. His father's birthday. It was one of the few, precious moments, where he could see his usually stoic mother smile. Grim would wake up, early as he did every year on that day. Then, silently, not unlike a wolf hunting his unaware prey, he would pounce on his still sleeping father, knocking the air from his lungs. Asfar, Sunberth's undertaker, would let out a pained, although hearty laugh. And as always, his mother would protest, attempting to send the boy back to bed, though that was a feat the Isur woman never managed to accomplish - seeing as both Grim and his father acted like children most of the time.
A faint smile would creep into the corner of the Eiyon's lips, the shadow his hood cast on his face hiding the strange emptiness in his gray eyes. It was not grief, no. He had placed his father in the ground twice now. Once when he was ripped apart by one of Uldr's abominations, and the second time when he had to do the bloody deed himself. So grief? No, Dira's mark had a way of clearing one's mind. Death was only natural, and he did a good deed by finally ending it once and for all. Still, even with this in mind. Can a child be truly content with being their parent's executioner?
He had been held up at his workplace again. Even what he knew about undertaking, the old man had taught him. Well, not really taught, as he never wanted his son to end up digging graves for a living. Yet, he was always a role model in his son's eyes. If Asfar went early to bed, so would Grim. If Asfar would change his hairstyle, so would Grim.
Night had already set down on Riverfall, granting the city a wondrous sight should one look up. It was funny, now that Grim remembered, how he used to believe everything the old man said. Even that he had sailed all over the sea of stars, where he found his mother - as he would say, his brightest star.
The Eiyon's hand rested a moment on the double doors of the Rat's Hole. The wood was rough, and progressively more dirty as one would look lower. It was one of the few places that had that rough feel within Riverfall. It reminded him so much of home, of Sunberth.
A bit more pressure was required to get the two wooden slabs open than Grim imagined, but finally, he was welcomed by the gloom within. "Just like home..." Grim muttered to himself as his nose was assaulted by the stench of cheap alcohol. Even before he would press his lips against the not-so-washed mug, he could taste the liquid. It's fragrance only harbinging it's bite. Probably imported in cheap casks,ones that were pushed in some dark corner in the belly of the ship they were smuggled in.
Unlike in the Bull, not many patrons were visiting at that late hour, with those that did, keeping mostly to themselves and to whatever deals they were making. Grim never bothered to lower the hood of his robe down, instead, he just found a cozy place far in the corner, where hopefully, none but the bartender would come and visit.
Not long after, a tall mug of ale found it's way onto Grim's table. By the look of it, it's quality couldn't be better reflected by it's humble price. Grim raised his mug slightly above the table. Memories would flood him, of times when father was alive. Laughing and eating the best food the tavern's of Sunberth had to offer. When they were all happy and together.
"Happy birthday dad..." Grim said, his voice but a whisper.
"Thanks son." Replied a raspy, low voice.
The mug just slipped from his hand, landing first on the corner of the table, only to splash it's contents on it's holder, before clattering down on the unwashed floor.
OOC INFOIf someone were to observe the little scene, they would be unable to see his father, instead, just a mortified person who just dropped his ale for no reason whatsoever.
