It's Better Than Drinking Alone {OPEN}

[The Mongrel]

Just a bit of fluff. Open to one, maybe two. Feel free to join Illara at the table!

Everyone needs a place they can go to relax. It should be a place where they're known well enough to get a room and a drink, but not where their past can come back to bite them. For me, it's a little town on the edge of Concordia called Oakcreek. There can't be more than five hundred souls who call it home, and I've probably met most of them over the last half century. Unfounded's business never has cause to touch it, so it's a place where I'm never part of any trouble.

It's so tiny and unimportant that news takes forever to reach it, and even if it did, if it's not something that happened within twenty-five miles of them, it's not important enough to remark. After the Day of Burning, after that drama with my brother, after the sudden notoriety in Radasanth, I needed the two things only Oakcreek could offer me: a quiet drink and relative anonymity.

The little tavern with its attached two-room inn was exactly the same. Twenty or so tired farmers, lumberjacks, and trappers sat around tables of various sizes, drinking from generous mugs and eating from large bowls. There was only one room available, which had only happened a handful of times in my yearly-ish retreat, but nothing really notable. The cat - a distant descendant of the first inn cat I'd met here - came up to give me a disinterested sniff. The same scuffmarks marred the floor, the same paint was peeling from the walls. The bar had been recently re-stained and varnished, but other than that, it was like time hadn't touched the sleepy little hamlet.

I approached the bar, where a portly man with sandy hair first looked surprised, then delighted. He was forty-five; I'd been a yearly fixture in his life since he was three. I'd fed him candy behind his parents' backs, and I was doing the same to his children.

"Miss Laura Green. When you wasn't here for the Apple Fest, we thought somethin'd happened to you in the big city. The kids were upset."

I gave him a weary smile, feeling my contacts itch up against my eyelids. If I didn't wear them here, someone would notice that all of a sudden, my green eyes were silver, and that would mean questions. I didn't want questions. Not here. I didn't want my life to touch this town. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

"My older brother needed some help with a problem he was having on the mainland. I was really sorry that I couldn't make it in for the Apple Fest this year. But every year, I hear you all boasting about your pumpkins, and even if I've missed the apples, I'm in time for those, right?"

"Course you are. There's even some in the stew. Bumper crop this year, Miss Green. We haven't seen pumpkins like this since I was a boy."

"Great, Preston. I'll have a bowl of the stew and whatever's on tap, please." I slid some coin across the bar, enough for my meal, a refill of ale, and a small treat for each of his children. I soon found my way to a table at the corner of the room. The beer was a little weak, the stew a little too salty, but it was still the best meal I'd had in months.

There's no condiment quite like peace when that's all your soul craves.

[Skie and Avery]

Skie had been careful. Her trip from Alerar would only be overnight. Something about the press of Concordia to her back was comforting. For a place that had been a cauldron of so much suffering, she couldn't stay away. Now she'd found a town where she could appreciate it from a safe distance. Home was home, even when the walls were falling down.

All she wanted was a pint. The mug far larger than she expected in her hand, she turned from the bar. The light from fires and candles bathed it all in warmth, and the quiet din of calm voices at the tables was almost a lullaby. Now and then when a chair creaked or a pair of boots stomped by, she felt more alert. Mostly she just wanted to curl up and nap in peace.

Settling for the next best thing, she scanned the room for a stranger to drink with.

An elf sat in the corner. Skie had spent enough time in Raiaera and Alerar to know a halfbreed when she saw one. Racist stereotypes she'd heard from both sides were prickling at her neck. It was weird to be treated to the assumptions of a race not her own, and for so long, and the discomfort of knowing they were less fact than hate moved her to approach the woman. Even if Skie wasn't sure what to make of her, she knew for a fact the conversation would be better than that with farmhands, and a lack of conversation less awkward.

Oh elves..., she thought as she slid into an empty chair at the table.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked, though she had no intention of leaving. Her feet slid into the seat next to her and across from Illara, and she pulled a long sip from her mug, trying not to grimace. She'd gotten too use to dwarven stout, it would seem.

[The Mongrel]

I looked up from my mouthful of stew when the stranger sat. Preston had been honest about one thing: the pumpkin was pretty damn good, and I was sorry there wasn't more of it swimming in my bowl, even if there was no way in hell I was going to be able to finish my portion. Sometimes a person just wants to eat too much comfort food, drink a little too much beer, and wake up after dawn to the smell of breakfast and the sound of young shepherds swearing at their stubborn flocks.

I looked her up and down, the dark-haired, blue eyed female. Everything about her appearance screamed world-traveler, trouble-seeker, just here looking for a little bit of quiet. Tension filled my gut for a second. One bit of bad news could potentially leave a place unscathed, if it was trying hard enough. Two bits of bad news? Much less likely. Two bits of bad news meeting in a tavern is how too many stories start, and I was protective of my little town.

Even so. If we were both really willing to try, we could play those odds. Maybe we could even beat them.

I swallowed my bite and shrugged. "It's better than drinking alone, I guess." A mouthful of beer chased my words, and I looked across the table at my unlikely companion. She wasn't a native of the town; she couldn't even pretend to be. And the stares she drew... I traversed Concordia for a living, but there were areas I steered well clear of. Something told me that a piece of those parts had stepped out.

Play the odds, play the odds...

"Laura Green," I introduced myself.

[Skie and Avery]

A likely lie…, Skie thought as she clasped hands with her newest drinking buddy. If ever there were a woman who looked less like a Laura, Skie couldn’t remember having seen her. The thing about calling people out as this or that, though, was that it took one to know one.

“Sariya Surulinath.” The reply came brightly, the name rolling off the tongue, even if it was a tongue that still couldn’t quite pronounce the true tone of Elvish she’d stolen the name from. There were questions now, and of course there were. Skie was the type of person who gained comfort from knowledge, especially when it came to people who looked like they knew what to do with the pointy end of a sword.

The Golden Rule won out. She turned her appraising eyes from the shorter woman and took another drag from the tankard. Her eyes fell across the other patrons. She watched a hunter, boasting quietly about the wolf he’d killed in the forest. “Ten times as big as Hagar’s!” he insisted as his friends covered their faces in their hands and snorted. One of the barrel-chested archers was clapping the tabletop with one hand, wiping tears from his eyes with the second.

“Watch this,” she said to the elf, and snatched a piece of pumpkin rind that had been floating in the stew’s broth. She sucked the broth clean and then placed the bit of rind on a palm. Aiming carefully, she flicked it, her finger snapping out. The rind went flying with a soft, wet sound, and landed just where it was meant. As it bounced off the boastful hunter’s shoulder, it was a ball of orange and possibility, flying high before landing in his drink with a little plink.

The men were too busy laughing or groaning to notice, and the hunter lifted his drink to his mouth. As a curious, “Wha this?” came muttered a moment later, Skie snorted into her tankard. It’d been a lucky shot, and luck was always good at letting her know when the night would be a kind one.

[The Mongrel]

"The Concordian elves do have a strange accent." I let that be my only indication to her that I knew she was lying. Her name was an indication to me that she knew I was. It didn't much matter; whoever she was, she was a fleeting passage in my life. Everyone I really loved hid their name from me with aliases, as I did with them. It was a matter of course.

I watched her pull her prank, then swished a little bit of watery beer around in my mouth, considering the flavor. "Actually, it would probably be better if they made it with the pumpkin. If we were here in a couple of weeks, we'd be drinking the cider they make here. That gets all the way out to Underwood; best thing they make here."

The hunter, Martus by name, if I remembered him right, was challenging Preston about the pumpkin in his drink. He'd been a scrawny, gangly youth, and had been making up for it ever since he'd finished puberty. One year he was shorter than I was and scrawny, the next he stood half a head taller and could have lifted two of his former self. But he still had that childish need to make himself sound bigger than he was. Or maybe it was that humanish need...

"If'n you wouldn't speak with your mouth full, boy, you'd not have food in your drink!" came the retort.

"So, what brings you out here? Passing through on the way to the Comb Mountains?" I didn't care. She could tell me she was here to fly to the moon and I'd probably just nod. But it's awkward to sit silently across from some random stranger...

[Skie and Avery]

She giggled into the drink, chortling as she chugged and listened to the minor squabble. When Laura’s question came up, she made sure to keep a measured face. Still grinning at her mischief, she waved it away. She’d never been good at lying, but omission was more comfortable.

“I lived near here, once upon a time. Every now and again I like to stop through, grab a couple of things to help home feel more like home.”

See, no lies necessary. She could have asked the elf the same, but for now she didn’t quite care. How many bars full of traveling adventurers and mercenaries had she seen in her day? Too many to count on both her hands, maybe too many to add in her toes too. She was young, but she’d been one of them for a while. The way Alerar was turning out, she’d probably be among the brave and the stupid for far longer.

“You seem like you hang around here often enough, though,” she added. “Maybe you could tell me where the hunting’s good this year? The game in Alerar doesn’t taste quite right, and I’d like to think I owe myself a home cooked meal.”

[The Mongrel]

I shrugged to "Sariya." "I'm only through here once a year or so, and I'm afraid my diet veers more to green food than flesh. I think the hunters are finding pheasant in the meadows just a mile or so west of here, but I couldn't be certain." No lies. No deep truths. Small talk. Perfect.

"If you want to try in the forests, there are some game trails that crisscross the brush, but you're likely to get lost if you follow them. I could tell you where to find a wonderful patch of mushrooms and some wild onions, if you like that sort of thing. I don't think they're the sort that are toxic to humans." I'd learned the hard way once that elves and humans were susceptible to different sorts of toxins. More than a few bites of red meat made me sick for days, but a humble mushroom had nearly killed one of my old friends. The woman in charge of his care hadn't been pleased with either of us.

The hunters and farmers in the center of the room had moved on to another topic; namely, how many deer they should cull for the winter's meats, and how many cows, sheep, and pigs they should slaughter. "There's as delicate a balance as ever I've heard." I turned to watch the argument, fishing another piece of pumpkin out to chew on. "Too few livestock killed and the food reserves won't last. Too many, and they'll have a lean year or two while they build the reserves back. But the deer know when it's hunting season, and they know to retreat deeper into the woods, where it's dangerous for hunters to tread. They shouldn't need more than a few of each; it's not a big village. But the debates can get fierce."

Just like in every farming community around the world, I'd imagine. At least...the farming communities that ate meat.

[Skie and Avery]

She nodded absently, barely listening. Laura might assume she’d get lost in the forest, or that she had the constitution of a human woman, but these assumptions were wrong. There were other reasons Skie had for staying out from under the heavier boughs of Concordia. Shadows here had a way of leaving scars.

“Pheasant sounds fine. Been a while since I’ve had any.” She said. In truth, Skie’d never eaten the bird. When last she left Concordia, she’d been eating the raw venison that she’d always had. It was Ettermire that was teaching her the finer points of cooked food, of vegetables and fruit, of things finer than raw meat and alcohol.

“That’s how it is for humanity,” Skie said. “People like to make decisions, even if they squabble a bit for it. It’s just a part of lives too short.” Another drink, another grin, “Not that elves have that excuse. They squabble just as much.”

[The Mongrel]

I smirked into my mug, drinking deeply. The men were slowly finishing their meals and drinks, trickling out to their little farmsteads or huts. The faces here changed year by year; when a man got a wife, he stopped eating at Preston’s. When his first child was born, he stopped drinking there. When his third child was born, he started drinking again, and about fifteen years into the marriage, on average, he was eating here again, when he and the wife were having a fight.

“You have no idea, Sariya. I grew up in Raiaera, and when we get into an argument, it takes a full five minutes to tell someone exactly what level and degree of idiot they are. Of course, if there’s no time and we’re feeling particularly catty, there’s always the fallback: go kiss an orc.”

I remembered the last time that insult had been directed at me, on the way out of the Lindequalme. I remembered the insulter’s face when I retorted, simply, “I have.”

The memory was recent, but here, in the comfortable hush of Oakcreek, it seemed so far away and a lifetime ago. It wasn’t important. This meeting wasn’t important. The food wasn’t important, the beer wasn’t important. The town wasn’t important.

The town was everything.

Preston was wiping up, signaling that it was time for his guests to retire, and I bowed to the rules of etiquette. “But the evening draws late, and you look exhausted. I should let you retire, and do the same.”

A smile, a gesture, and a few cat-silent steps led me away from the tables and up to my room. It was tiny – a narrow bed and a tiny night stand crowded each other and left a narrow path to the room’s only window. My left shoulder brushed the wall and my right thigh rubbed against the bed, and my frame is considerably more slender than the average human’s. I could only imagine a burly man shuffling around on a night his spouse refused to let him into the house.

The rooms were why I had never brought Mutt, though I still came for at least one day every year. He’d never have fit. In those days – that decade of more-or-less married life – it had been good to get away from him for a little bit. By having space sometimes, it reaffirmed our connection when we reunited. Now that he was gone, I missed him in this sanctuary of solitude.

I leaned against the windowsill, peering through the slightly grimy glass at the lights that were gradually dying in each individual home. Children asleep. Parents asleep. One young farmhand, sick with infatuation, up late toiling over a crude love letter to some other young villager. Though he was halfway across the town, I could see his faced screwed up in concentration. I remembered his father doing the same for a girl who would not become his mother, and I vaguely wondered if his own son would, one day, sit in that same window trying to win the affections of another generation of man or woman.

I smiled, settling onto the rough bed with its scratchy blanket. I wouldn’t keep silent company with the lovelorn this evening.

Good night, Oakcreek.

[Skie and Avery]

Goodbye, Oakcreek.

Skie was the last to leave the bar, and stood in the quiet square for a moment. One of the town guards was watching her, and she nodded to him. Not here to make trouble, not here to let it follow her, either. She’d come a thousand miles to be close to home, and now that she’d had a drink and some light conversation, it was time to go back to elf-home.

That made her grin, as she stared at the forest that cradled the town along its back. Leave elves to find home, talk to elf. Somehow it felt right, and it was better by far than running into one of the ghost that haunted her from her true home.

She thought long and hard about pheasants, and deer, and demons. It would be nice to delve into the forest and search for the elven lover she’d left behind. Again, an elf. Maybe the universe was telling her something. The only human she had to call home was somewhere in Alerar, and even then there was a flavor of the demonic.

“Elves and demons,” she sighed, as she stood and started to make her way to where she’d left the horse she’d rented from the docks. It was fast, and sturdy. Perfect for her illicit visit to Corone. If she was lucky she’d save the elves for here, and be back to her Demon by the next time she saw night fall.

[Philomel]

Name of Judgement: It's Better Than Drinking Alone (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?29962-It-s-Better-Than-Drinking-Alone-OPEN)
Judgement Type: No Judgement
Participants: The Mongrel and Skie and Avery

Rewards:

The Mongrel (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?17739-The-Mongrel)receives:
480 EXP
55 GP

Skie and Avery (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?1387-Skie-and-Avery) receives:
670 EXP
55 GP

[Rayleigh]

All EXP and GP were added.