another drink, another tavern [open]

[Darius Cebrián]

A coin rolled idly between the rough fingers of the Telmarine. His dark gaze centred not on the shiny object but on the remains of what had once been a full tankard of ale, but now contained less than a mouthful of the liquid. The grimy glass object sat on a filthy, dented table in the corner of the room, his free hand resting upon its edge. He did not care about the filth; in fact, he barely noticed it, just as he did not see how empty his tankard had become. His mind was much, much further away, focused upon a nothingness that had become his companion ever since he had abandoned the sea.

Abruptly, the sailor's head jerked up and he looked around warily, having returned to the moment. While the tavern was brightly lit, his position in a secluded corner offered some privacy and some shadow. He sat alone, his legs stretched out beneath the table, his posture one of relaxation, even if he was anything but. One could not be cautious enough in such a place; it was all too easy to get one's throat cut, although it was much more dangerous in the ports. If there was not a brawl in every tavern every night in a port, then it was considered a quiet night. This was very calm, controlled, in comparison, and yet it carried a sense of much more danger than the ports ever had.

Mostly that came from the knowledge that at any point he might be hauled off for a dawn appointment with the gallows. Any number of people here might recognise him as the pirate that he was. In the ports, no one ever turned anyone in, since most of them were involved in some form of illicit business and so knew that they risked getting turned in themselves. Here, people had no such qualms. For all he knew, any number of the patrons of this tavern could be authorities in disguise. But they could also all be innocent.

Again, his eyes scanned the room, pausing upon people of interest. A woman was selling her services to a pair of men by the bar. A hunter was telling wild stories, stories that grew louder and wilder with every drink that his compatriots pushed upon him. The bar maid dodged the groping hands of drunken men, cleverly telling them off as she went about serving drinks. A man started up with some music in a far corner, but was quickly silenced. One brutish looking man swung a fist at another; other men quickly took advantage of the hit to start their own brawls.

Disgusted with everyone's behaviours, the pirate returned his gaze to his almost-empty tankard and set his coin upon the tabletop. He could afford another drink; it never affected him as it did most men, so it would not bother him the following morning. He raised a hand to get the attention of the barmaid, and then stared into his tankard once again. The noise of the brawl seemed not to bother him. In fact, he barely noted it. While normally he hid from all kinds of interaction, Darius doubted that his luck would hold out today.

[Sebastien Lienid]

Seb peaked from under his hooded cape and glanced around at his surroundings. He may be in the middle of Narnia in a busy city, but it was still nighttime and he was little more than a child traveling alone. He may be independent, but a thief or a drunk wouldn't know that. They'd only see an easy target. The cool night breeze picked up and Sebastien pulled his dark cape closer to himself. The sooner he found a satisfactory tavern, the sooner he'd be out of the cold and eating something warm. He could practically feel himself drooling thinking about a bowl of hot soup.

Reaching the end of the road, the boy stopped walking and looked up at the brightly lit tavern. The windows were clean and he could hear merry music drifting past the wooden door as it opened to allow a drunken man to stumble out. Judging by the state of the man's decently made clothing and the building he had just exited, Seb figured that this tavern was probably well maintained and had a respectable reputation. It was also probably the best he would find tonight. He didn't think he would be able to ignore his stomach for much longer. Decision made, the boy pushed passed the door.

Quickly scanning the room, Seb realized that the tavern was in fact quite full. Everyone was engaged in some kind of activity. Almost everyone that is. In one secluded corner sat a man, partially hidden by the shadow. Grinning widely, Seb briskly walked up to him and sat down in the opposite chair.

"Fancy meeting you here Darius," greeted Seb as he shrugged off his cape. The boy would've continued talking, but his stomach chose that particular moment to protest loudly about the lack of food. Deciding that food was more important than idle chit chat at the moment, Seb waved over a waitress.

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[Darius Cebrián]

When a hooded figure entered the tavern, Darius paid him as much attention as he would any other patron of this semi-respectable establishment; that is to say, he examined the person long enough to determine that they were not likely to be a threat. However, as the figure made its way through the tavern in his direction - or perhaps one of the nearby tables, he was not that self-centred - Darius grew quickly suspicious. Casually, as if to scratch an itch on his leg, he drew a knife from his boot and hid it in his hand and loose jacket sleeve.

A few moments later, this precaution became utterly unnecessary and he carefully slipped the blade into his jacket as to not worry his young friend.

"Sebastien," he greeted, his tone just barely entering the range that could be considered 'warm'. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. "I see you've grown even more since I saw you last." Soon enough the boy would grow taller than even Darius, not that this was an incredible feat to accomplish. For a moment, he held his tongue as a young woman deposited his drink in exchange for his last coin and took Seb's order.

Once she was out of earshot, Darius could continue without fear. It was a wonder that no one had recognised him yet, especially in an area with such a strong Telmarine presence. While they were no longer hunting him for desertion, he'd seen more than one wanted poster since being forced onto land. He may not be the most wanted criminal, but he was still a criminal nonetheless, a damned pirate who hadn't wanted the life in the first place. At least he had found a few kind souls, those such as the young Sebastien here, who had - while perhaps a somewhat naive view of the world - decided he was worth trusting.

"So what brings you to these parts?" he asked after the woman returned to the bar. "A tavern of this reputation is not a place for such an upstanding young gentleman as yourself." To hide his smile, Darius brought his fresh glass to his mouth and took a rather large sip. Perhaps he was quite fond of the boy, but he had to maintain a properly gruff exterior or else what little reputation he had would be lost. And at this point, reputation was about all he had left.

[Sebastien Lienid]

Seb couldn’t help but shoot a glare at Darius (not that it did anything. His glares were as intimidating as a newborn puppy’s bark). Usually, he was very easygoing and nothing much upsets him, but the subject of his size was a rather sensitive topic. He was tiny for his age. Always had been and probably always will be. It wasn’t his fault either. Being born into a lower class family didn’t allow him the chance to grow nearly as big as other kids his age. It was all work and little food. By the time he was able to eat a full meal every meal, it was too late to catch up in height. He counted himself lucky that he had hit a growth spurt at all.

“I didn’t grow that much. Only three inches in the past five months,” said Seb, his eyes softening and his fingers picking at the loose thread at the end of his tunic. “It’s hardly anything worth mentioning.” A pause and a small shy smile tugged at the ends of the boy’s lips. “But thank you for noticing.” Seb continued staring at his fingers that were fiddling with the thread.

At the mention of his presence in a tavern, the blond heaved a dramatic sigh. If he had it his way, he wouldn’t be there, but some people just weren’t taught to be considerate of others’ comfort. “A week ago, I was asked to King Caspian’s castle to perform for some ladies’ get together,” explained Seb. “I was reluctant at first since I since I was still in the middle of preparing my new routine. It still needed practice and I didn’t want to show it when it’s less than perfect. In the end, I decided to go and just perform one of my old routines. Them offering a good amount of money was nice too.

“Anyways, my actual performance well enough. I didn't fall on my face and everyone seemed to enjoy it. But I wish that the audience had paid more attention. The get together turned out to be an excuse for a few young nobility to socialize casually. I was just there to give them a reason to. A waste of my time really. At least they paid me a decent amount. Or it would've been had they given me a room to stay the night. They as good as kicked me out after I was done. So here I am. At a cheap tavern to stay the night because I'm not stupid enough to sleep outdoors in a city like this."

Seb shrugged. A lot of nobles meant well. They weren't on purposefully rude or unthoughtful, but it happened more often than not. They just didn't understand.

"So what are you doing here? Aren't you afraid of being caught?" asked Seb.