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Devyn tapped her fingers on the table absently, her gaze roving around the coffee shop. While her eyes weren't bloodshot, and her nose absent of any redness, there was a sort of lost look in her eyes, the opposite of the happiness she'd displayed previously. The events of her goodbyes were certainly unexpected and unplanned, which left her feeling a lot less enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. However, she wasn't changing her mind, and instead had run from her former home as fast as she could, and now sat waiting for Vincent in the shop that he'd first brought her.
She paused in mid gaze and glanced down at the stained wooden table, green eyes focusing on the details. She couldn't sit here and just look around aimlessly. It caused her mind to wander, and more than anything, the woman didn't want to think of unpleasant thoughts.
Various water stains marked the surface, evidently from the countless cups of coffee that had been placed on the very table. It was mindblowing to think of how many people might have sat here, with unknown inner turmoil brewing in their minds. Maybe someone had proposed here. They might have cried, or might have laughed so hard that liquid came out if their nose. Maybe someone had died here. At the thought of that, a lump grew in her throat, and Vyn tore her gaze away from the table to glance once more around the room.
She was selfish. More than anything, she knew that she was selfish and yet she continued on this path. Maybe this would never change, but it was her, and she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to change it. She was leaving everything behind, and even if she was going to be working towards a good cause, she knew that what she really wanted was to make a change. She'd accepted because she wanted to make an impact and leave her mark, not because of the people she could help. She was so fucking selfish. She was leaving her tattered family behind for a bit of glory. And she hated that she didn't really mind.
I hope he hurries up, or else I'll drown in my own sorrows.
(Sorry about the vagueness and relative nothingness of it all...)
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(this post got super silly and out of hand, my apologies in advance.)
Vincent had taken his sweet time to return to the quant coffee shop, touring the crowded city streets as he went. It was rare he got to see Ettermire when the sun was out, usually it skulked hidden behind and endless cloud of smog and smoke. It was amazing what a little sunlight could do to make a place seem so much more pleasant. Merchants hawked their wares; a cacophony of promises to be the best of X in town filled the air. The smell of freshly baked good struggled to claw through the ever-present stench of body odor and shit that was almost in every large city. The smell of fresh, buttery rolls taunted the scholar and his empty stomach for several moments before the young man caved.
He found the source at a nearby stall, where a young dark elven woman had just brought out a tray fresh from the oven in her shop just behind her. The scholar eyed the bread hungrily and reached into his pockets fishing out a few coins. He turned over the pieces in his palm, eyeing their denominations. Surely he must have realized that carrying so much money in so few of coins would come back to bite him, and he was all but certain the woman would not be able to make proper change for one measly roll. The scholar almost abandoned his quest, but the rumbling of his stomach urged him onwards. Setting an entire sovereign down, the scholar winked at the woman.
“Just give me the whole tray and keep the change…” The baker eyed the coin suspiciously, after all, the man had just set a weeks’ worth of factory wages in front of her. Biting the coin, she found it to be genuine and slid the pan towards the scholar.
“Keep the pan sir, with this money I can replace every dish in my shop…” she muttered in disbelief. The scholar raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, wordlessly he took the pan and snatched one of thirty rolls and popped it into his mouth, greedily gobbling the grainy goodness down. He cooed as he smacked his lips. Perfection. The scholar glanced around for a moment, slightly thirsty now.
You know what they say, if you give and Emperor a roll, he’s going to make a silly earthen joke based on a children’s book.
Fast forward three hours, Vincent found himself entering the shop at sunset carrying a tray of lukewarm buns placed strategically around a flagon of ale that he had balanced expertly. On top of the flagon was a pile of three or so incredibly large texts on mechanics, mice, and mountains. In his other hand the scholar clutched not one, not two, not even three, but five leather bags stuffed to the brim with various odds and ends. The woman behind the counter raised an eyebrow at the scholar and raised an open palm to her forehead, as if this wasn’t the first time Vince had done this.
After a moment of searching, the scholar found Devyn staring forlornly at the table before her, as if it had just told her a particularly sad story about a mouse with more cookies than milk, but when he got more milk he didn’t have enough cookies, trapping him in an endless vicious cycle that was tragically raising the rat obesity ratings. Setting the various odds and ends on the table the scholar chuckled for a bit he glanced over his loot. He simply set a few rolls before the mechanic and shot her a goofy grin.
“I figured you’d be hungry. Goodbyes are hungry work.” He quipped sitting down. As he waited for her reply, he took his sweet time banishing various things into the endless void that seemed to hide in the teal sparks at his fingertips.
Why didn’t he do that in the first place? Because it’s much more amusing to make an entrance.
