73rd Spring 522 AV – The Drunken Fish
It was strange, he had always had a streak of mischief in him but since the fateful day with the Commander, and his lost head, he had felt an almost constant itch to find something entirely non-serious to get embroiled in. Perhaps it was Ionu’s influence somehow, transferred through the gnosis bond they now shared. Perhaps it was tiredness, at all of the dark times, brooding thoughts and general grey veil that the season had become for him – at least in part. He didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to complain about taking a day off, from pretty much everything. He had left Lys with Jade, safe in the Outpost. She had practically begged him to leave anyway, he had not been the best of company since he had discovered his attempt to save Syka had gotten an old woman murdered.
She was right, though, he knew that deep down. His intentions had been good, even if the execution had been…well and execution. There was still a slight twang of pain as the memory of the moment he had been told. He had written the name in his journal, the first and hopefully last name there that he could call a sacrifice. He had never wanted to be responsible for anyone, now he was getting more responsible but felt woefully unable to be up to the task. Still…how long could one mourn someone they had never met? Had it been an appropriate length of time? Would he have thought that way at all a few seasons ago? Were his ‘adventures’ turning him somewhat calloused against the darker aspects of his life?
“Petch it all” he muttered to himself, blinking into the foam of his ale and shaking his head, dragging himself back from such thoughts. He closed his eyes, took a few moments to still his mind, and exhaled at length, deciding it was time to not care too much anymore – he doubted they would be the last one to die because of the web he had been surrounded with. He might as well get used to it.
He drank deeply and tuned back into his surroundings, noticing that the barmaid he had met a season or so ago was still working and apparently still remembered him as she flashed him a somewhat tentative smile. Not doubt, he reasoned, she was wondering whether he had done something wrong given he had not accepted her advances. He didn’t remember why anymore, though he had his suspicions. Still he flashed a smile back, then broke into a genuinely warm smile for what felt like the first time in days – he was back somewhere noisy, dangerous and crammed with life. It felt…right and he had missed it. He snorted at himself as he scratched his chin, what had he been doing before his thoughts had turned maudlin?
Ah…yes…something fun to do. A thug, or someone needing taking down a peg or two…choices, choices, choices…decisions he mused to himself his practised gaze sweeping the room, seeking something out as he felt a tickling of amusement within.
“Jester indeed…bloody kidnapping chair smasher…never knew gods could be so…fun, got to hand it to you” he whispered, as if the being might be able to hear him in the internal conspiracy of mischief that was beginning to be hatched.
