(Closed to Aynur, probably!)
Varin hadn’t felt the kiss of rain since Dheathain.
But the rain of this country wasn’t the frequent, warm drizzle he was used to. It was cold and unforgiving, each drop plinking against his skin and scales like a chilly arrow. He scowled at the cloud-smothered sky and tugged the cowl of his robes down over his forehead. A little brown sparrow nestled in between the scratchy fabric of his hood and his cheek, seeking refuge from the rain. “It should not be this dark at noon,” the Drakari observed, a rumbling growl to his voice. His sharp red eyes glanced over at the bird sharing his hood. “What say you, Arie? Shall we find some shelter and get out of this awful weather?” She gave a pitiful flutter of her drenched wings and twittered desolately in turn. “Indeed.”
The squelchy mud squished between his claws as he plodded down the road. There were several steadily-glowing lights up ahead, surely the windows of some establishment. Varin blinked through the watery veil splashing down on the world. As he came upon the door of the building - tavern by the looks of it - he saw a blindfolded woman with standing just outside the door. It was a smart place to be, the young man thought. An alcove above adequately sheltered the entrance from the elements.
Varin didn't get the chance to consider the woman any further at the moment, nor read the message she held, as his little friend was in a hurry. The sparrow in his hood fluttered her wings in impatience and headbutted his cheek. “Alright, alright,” he scolded, leaning a little away from her ruckus, unable to hide a chuckle. “Out of the rain it is. Perhaps we can purchase a meal here.”
Passing by the blindfolded one without addressing her, Varin opened the door and peered inside.
For such a miserably wet night, the tavern was abuzz with people and conversation. The whole of the center room was cheerily lit with a clay fireplace and there was no hiding the disrepair of it all. Varin took care to avoid the most splintery of tables and chairs as he sloshed his way to a seat at the counter, turning his nose in disgust at the faint stank of sweat and dog pee that clung to everything. The uncleanliness of the placed bothered him quite a bit.
A couple of rowdy young men were drinking in the corner and hosting quite an uproar as they challenged each other to arm wrestling matches and other tests of strength. Their antics died down a bit as Varin made his way through, their vigor giving way to furtive sneers and snide ogling, their vulture eyes picking his strange features apart piece by piece. Arie peered out of his hood and chirped cheerfully in their direction. She received only confused stares in return.
With only a glance aside at the rougher boy-men, Varin cleared his throat to catch the attention of the lone, bony bartender. “Would you tell me where I am?” the Drakari asked of him with a lowered voice.
“Well,” the server began with a gesture at the door and barely a glance at him. “If you’d read the sign outside-”
“No, not the name of your establishment,” Varin interrupted. “I mean where I am on Corone.”
The question surprised the bartender, and he fumbled with a mug he had been cleaning up. He met the slitted, orange gaze peering from Varin’s hood in stride. Perhaps the wilting flowers set into the Drakari’s hair took some of the bite out of his ragged appearance. “That’s an odd question. You lost?”
Varin shrank a bit under the continued stare. “One could say that. My situation is a tad more complex than that. Just… please forget I asked. I shall figure it out myself. A hot meal and some respite from the rain is all I need for the moment,” he said vaguely. “And some tea. Whatever kind you may have.”
The bartender shrugged and went back to picking up dirty dishes. “Sure. I’ve got some prepared.”
Glad that no roving eyes were on him again, Varin sighed and leaned his forehead against the table. Arie wiggled out from under the tent-like structure of his hood and fluttered into the rafters to stretch her wings. She, too, was glad for a moment of rest. As the bartender slid a cup of tea over to him, Varin glanced up at his feathered friend with a small smile. “Do not cause any trouble while you are up there,” he said up to her.”
“Funny, I was tah ask if yeh’d be doin’ th’ same,” came a cocksure voice off to the side. Scowling at the interruption, Varin turned to look at the speaker. He was a brawny lad with cheeks flushed and eyes shining with liquid confidence, leaning possessively on the counter. His presence reeked of alcohol. A grin that was dangerously close to being a smirk came to the lad’s face as Varin leaned away from his bold advance. “Are yeh demonfolk? Look like ‘em.”
“Not of your business,” Varin replied, his tone weary. His cold-numbed claws curled around his tea. “Now leave me be.”
“Really, ‘tis mine business. Dunno that we want demons hangin’ ‘round th’ town.”
Varin took a deep sip of his tea, silently savoring the warmth it returned to his aching body. At the same time, he savored the impatience of the the lad, and how it caused his eyelid to subtly twitch. “Drakari,” he finally murmured back. “Not a being of demonic origin.” The lad seemed to mull over that a moment, scratching his sparse chin hairs. From the puzzlement in his red-rimmed eyes it was clear that he had little to no idea what Drakari were. “Half-wit,” Varin mumbled under his breath.
Being as the lad was about half a foot away, he heard anyway, shooting Varin a glare in return that could curdle milk. Tension simmered in the air between them like a bed of hot coals. “Yer gonna wish yeh never said that.”
A skeptical snort left Varin. Nonetheless, he felt an unease growing in the pit of his chest. “I would not have, had you left me alone in the first place.”
The brawny lad’s reply was to bring his fist to bear and wallop Varin straight in the face, knocking him off his chair.
“Are you unhinged?” Varin hissed in rage, his wings suddenly unfolding, raised defensively in front of him like shields. His hands clasped at his swiftly bleeding nose.
“Yer th’ crazy one,” the lad replied boisterously. His friends were gathering around him, bright and eager for a fight. “Teach yeh t’ insult me!”
Varin’s head snapped towards the bar in hopes of spotting the bartender for help - to break this up, to tell the rowdy patrons to settle down - but he wasn’t there. Probably busy in the back kitchen. Curses!
If it had been just Varin and the first offender, the Drakari felt confident that he would have come out of the skirmish the victorious one. As it was, the group as a whole was just too much for him to deal with. while he managed to slam one of the drunks against a tabletop and out cold, he found himself grappled and battered from all sides. Wildly flapping his wings forced some of them back. Arie drove off another lad with a swoop and some hard pecks to the face. Someone a mite smarter than their companions lashed out with a kick to the back of Varin’s knees that sent him sprawling to the floor. The back of his head hit the grimy wood floor.
“Drag ‘im out!” someone hollered, to much jeering and agreement.
Stunned, there was little the Drakari could do but hold his head there as he was grabbed roughly by his limp arms and wings. One moment, he was inside the warm and dry tavern, the next, he was cast out into the cold rain outside. There he lay in the mud, his head spinning, his nose bloodied, the whole of him unceremoniously bruised. Arie flew out the door after him and landed on his head, spewing out a stream of alarmed twitters and tweets. There was great jeering from inside the tavern.
“And begone with yeh!” The drunkards guffawed loudly and slammed the tavern door shut behind them.
The Drakari could only grimace and attempt to staunch the heavy flow of blood from his nose. If there was one reason to be grateful for that dreary rain, it was that his the tears of pain that were brought to his eyes were invisible to any roving eyes who spotted his sorry ass.
“May Chalazae devour you all in many small bites,” Varin swore woozily.
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