Citizen

[Amaril Torrun]

Laughter continued to bellow forth from Darith as the companions emerged from the library, Naryx trotting at their heels. Claiming to have nothing more to offer the half-dragon, Saran bid them farewell. On their way out, Darith had jokingly suggested that Amaril’s origins should be the least of their worries, glancing toward Camille one final time. Naryx joined the laughter with a cackle of his own, sending Amaril’s cheeks into a brighter shade of red.

“So what’s next?” he questioned, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible.

Still chuckling, his Draconian friend nodded in a new direction. “I think its time we had dinner. A few tankards of ale along with it should knock your failings to the back of your mind. Then we can work on your women skills properly.”

Amaril’s shoulders drooped, wishing Darith would just drop it. The two were becoming fast friends though, and friends didn’t let such things fall by the wayside. In spite of his embarrassment, he had to admit that the mocking amusement gave him a sense of camaraderie he hadn’t felt for a long time.

The trio walked for a few minutes more. Naryx stumbled quite a few times, but didn't allow Amaril to pick him back up, uncharacteristically claiming to want some exercise. As another building too large to be a simple home loomed up ahead, the scent of smoked meat wafted lazily through the half-dragon's nostrils, tantalizing his appetite. As they got closer and the smell grew, he could hear eruptions of laughter through the walls. The building looked a bit rickety and was obviously old, with pieces of the wood having chipped away over time. Darith briskly made his way to the front door, a smile spread from ear to ear. He pushed the door open, catching the attention of a few nearby patrons. Some clanked their mugs on their table, cheering his name.

“So this is where all the lowlifes hang out at the end of the day!” he exclaimed over the jovial buzz filling the dining hall. He was answered with laughter as one of his friends got up to give him a playful jab in the shoulder. Amaril stood to his friend’s side, feeling out of place.

“Shut up you mangy lout,” chided someone at the table of friends.

“Yeah, at least we did some work today, unlike you, you lazy bum,” another added.

“Bah, you know I just got back. I wouldn’t call what you do work anyways, Damian. What do you do again, sell clothes?” This caused another eruption of laughter as the offended Draconian buried his face into the table top in mock embarrassment. “Anyways, gents, I’ve brought someone with me. This is Amaril Torrun, a friend I met back in Talmhaidh. He’s gonna be staying with me till we find him a place of his own.”

“I knew it!” Damian pushed himself up from the table furiously. The mass of friends fell silent, unsure of the unexpected anger. A tension mounted before his face cracked into a smile. “I knew you were a fag!” he exclaimed and a chorus of laughter followed.

Darith pointed at him warningly, but his friends slid over a few seats to make room for the two new arrivals. They all talked amicably amongst themselves, leaving Amaril to his silent, social ineptness. The conversations were random, suggesting of longstanding history between the group. All the responses were unruly. Naryx hid between the half-dragon's ankles for fear of being stepped on, unnoticed by the Draconians.

You better have fun for the both of us, Naryx warned.

I was going to say the same thing, Amaril replied.