Post by Verainne on Aug 13, 2010 18:50:27 GMT -5
Outside of the old, shadow-hidden tavern, the all-too-familiar weather hadn't changed. Sand ripped through the air violently, threatening to tear into any person bold enough to venture outside. The red sun had been obscured behind clouds of dust, but it didn't stop the heat from blazing through and burning whatever it touched. Cracks in clay homes had been crudely stuffed with rags and sheets wherever they would fit, and tents had been weighed down with mountains of heavy pots and bricks. Iereku, at this moment, resembled a ghost town to anyone unaccustomed to the weather-- anyone, that was, who could survive the severity of such a harsh sandstorm.
Inside the dimly lit tavern, however, it was lively and merry under clouds of foggy smoke. Men chanted slurred, off-key carols of mead and rum, banging together mugs and sloshing the contents all over themselves. At some tables, loud gamblers shouted in anguish or triumph, giving and taking their earnings respectively. Barmaids weaved through the sweaty, dirty, and hairy skin with full mugs , distributing them to whoever flashed their gold first. Beautiful prostitutes sat in the laps of any man willing to pay, eventually leading them to the more private backrooms. Some women enjoyed themselves in packs of their own, chatting gaily and smoking expensive cigarettes. A curvaceous woman kept flashing a smile to the bartender, who simply shrugged off her flirting attempts with a nod.
At the far end of the tavern, in an otherwise unoccupied corner, a man with long, platinum blond hair surveyed the environment silently. He had the confidence of a king, surrounded by an aura of power. One of his thin-yet-muscular arms was propped against the bar, supporting his head. His free hand was tapping impatiently against the wood, an untouched mug of mead resting in front of him. He seemed to be searching for someone in the mess, but to no avail. He muttered darkly, finally reaching for the mug and taking a sip. He shot a meaningful glance at a woman staring at him, and she quickly looked down. The entire tavern crowd seemed to be wary of him, avoiding any kind of contact or notice from him. The bartender approached the man, whispering something in his ear. He waited for the man's nod, then gave a bow before rushing to attend the drunken crowd. The man's eyes rested on a rug, and then the people standing on it. One of them noticed his gaze, and then, shifting nervously, whispered something to the others. They all hurried to clear the rug, scuttling away like a swarm of beetles. The man remained silent, walking with unspoken pride toward the rug, kicking it so it folded over. Some people tried to see out of the corner of their eyes, but nobody dared watch directly, and most people tried to ignore it completely. The man smirked silently in satisfaction and lifted up a square of wood, a trap door that was invisible before.
"Thank fucking Jesus!" A strangely dressed girl popped through the door like a Jack in the box, gasping as she wiped sand from her face. "Oh god, I thought I was gonna die! I forgot how bad these sandstorms got!" Her voice was rough yet intelligent, with hints of excitement. She looked up at the man, her purple eyes meeting his green ones. After a quick grin, she hoisted herself through the square hole and kicked the door closed. When she had placed the rug back, she ran her fingers through her purple hair and attempted to fix it with the help of a decorative mirror. After finger-combing her blue bangs into place, she turned to the man again. "Long time no see!"
"Hello, Mimet." The man spoke quietly, but with power that could easily overtake the entire tavern, if he had been addressing them, rather than the girl. But now, his voice only reached Mimet's ears, as that is who it was meant for. "Well, well, Master Serpent! You haven't changed a bit!!" She spoke rather friendly to the man she called Serpent, to the horror of anyone actually listening to the conversation. She grinned at him, then seemed to realize something and quickly (as well as clumsily) bowed to him. He nodded in approval, then turned back to his seat. Mimet hastily straightened herself and skipped to the seat next to him. "Man, wait till you hear what happened over the past three months!" She started, staring dreamily into nothingness.
Inside the dimly lit tavern, however, it was lively and merry under clouds of foggy smoke. Men chanted slurred, off-key carols of mead and rum, banging together mugs and sloshing the contents all over themselves. At some tables, loud gamblers shouted in anguish or triumph, giving and taking their earnings respectively. Barmaids weaved through the sweaty, dirty, and hairy skin with full mugs , distributing them to whoever flashed their gold first. Beautiful prostitutes sat in the laps of any man willing to pay, eventually leading them to the more private backrooms. Some women enjoyed themselves in packs of their own, chatting gaily and smoking expensive cigarettes. A curvaceous woman kept flashing a smile to the bartender, who simply shrugged off her flirting attempts with a nod.
At the far end of the tavern, in an otherwise unoccupied corner, a man with long, platinum blond hair surveyed the environment silently. He had the confidence of a king, surrounded by an aura of power. One of his thin-yet-muscular arms was propped against the bar, supporting his head. His free hand was tapping impatiently against the wood, an untouched mug of mead resting in front of him. He seemed to be searching for someone in the mess, but to no avail. He muttered darkly, finally reaching for the mug and taking a sip. He shot a meaningful glance at a woman staring at him, and she quickly looked down. The entire tavern crowd seemed to be wary of him, avoiding any kind of contact or notice from him. The bartender approached the man, whispering something in his ear. He waited for the man's nod, then gave a bow before rushing to attend the drunken crowd. The man's eyes rested on a rug, and then the people standing on it. One of them noticed his gaze, and then, shifting nervously, whispered something to the others. They all hurried to clear the rug, scuttling away like a swarm of beetles. The man remained silent, walking with unspoken pride toward the rug, kicking it so it folded over. Some people tried to see out of the corner of their eyes, but nobody dared watch directly, and most people tried to ignore it completely. The man smirked silently in satisfaction and lifted up a square of wood, a trap door that was invisible before.
"Thank fucking Jesus!" A strangely dressed girl popped through the door like a Jack in the box, gasping as she wiped sand from her face. "Oh god, I thought I was gonna die! I forgot how bad these sandstorms got!" Her voice was rough yet intelligent, with hints of excitement. She looked up at the man, her purple eyes meeting his green ones. After a quick grin, she hoisted herself through the square hole and kicked the door closed. When she had placed the rug back, she ran her fingers through her purple hair and attempted to fix it with the help of a decorative mirror. After finger-combing her blue bangs into place, she turned to the man again. "Long time no see!"
"Hello, Mimet." The man spoke quietly, but with power that could easily overtake the entire tavern, if he had been addressing them, rather than the girl. But now, his voice only reached Mimet's ears, as that is who it was meant for. "Well, well, Master Serpent! You haven't changed a bit!!" She spoke rather friendly to the man she called Serpent, to the horror of anyone actually listening to the conversation. She grinned at him, then seemed to realize something and quickly (as well as clumsily) bowed to him. He nodded in approval, then turned back to his seat. Mimet hastily straightened herself and skipped to the seat next to him. "Man, wait till you hear what happened over the past three months!" She started, staring dreamily into nothingness.