![Senior [500]](https://i.imgur.com/Nmfn8cD.png)
There were many a mystery to unravel and unearth under the promise of adventure, and there wasn't such a thing as a journey too grand or too insignificant to a man who's greater ambitions lay in the matters of wondering aimlessly among the crowds, seamlessly navigating the roads that traversed the neighboring cities like nobody's business. It had been more of a habit for him of sorts, unable to truly manage the urge to walk, as if something compelled him to keep moving despite being bound to responsibilities. The circumstances have changed, evidently, and though it was unspeakable for him to put off the duty of finding his way back home, his inner being was calm and quiet, as if the storm was only in his head, having passed even before it started. Hence, he found himself situated under the bright and blinding lights of Rose Garden, watching the night blur into an ungodly mix of vice and beauty, lies and art.
The road beneath him was no less dusty and worn, but it was extravagantly familiar, still. One of his very first excursions led him there, a black suit lining his form as he attended a wedding with his sword strapped unto his shoulders and a lady by his side. The battles that followed were unexpected, though they remained victorious to the end, regardless of the injuries they had to brace just for the bride's sake. He'd harbor a smile as he dug into the memory, recalling the woman's name and wondering, briefly, if she ever continued her venture as a wizard, much like him, who found a strength in the various faces he's come to associate himself with.
His mulling came to an abrupt stop, however, as his patience was called over by a man in a red coat, his wide smile inviting and his ever-green eyes teetering deep into the voids of his soul. He raised a brow as the shady figure approached his form, a low foreboding feeling worming into his gut as his blade rattled a little in its sheathe, the energies restless with the prospect of danger drawing near with each step the man took.
"Lovely evening ain't it, lad?" he'd say, movements waning in and out of deception and fabrication. "You come here often?"
The swordsman would only gaze, his thumb glossing over the webbing that threaded over his blade's handle. "I don't think so, I've only ever come here once." he replied with a tight grin, mimicking the tone of an unknowing traveler. "Why'd you ask?"
There had been a hint of amusement spinning listlessly in the man's eyes, undermining and full of respite as he ushered an arm over Terith's shoulders, beckoning him to move with an urgent push. "Well I've got just the thing for weary wanderers like you, to promptly give you a taste of what's it like to be Rose Garden. A nice drink at one of the finest bars out there, and it's on me, don't worry about the pay!"
His weapon pulsed in his grip as he was lead astray into a narrowing corner of the main road, the lights buzzing even further into the color spectrum as their neon shades made his eyes sting. He was not sure what playing the fool would garner him in a situation like this, but resulting to rash decisions were uncalled for, and he wasn't eager to make a scene.
Perhaps Terith would call it an experiment over anything else for that matter, fiddling about with what he could muddle himself into, and allowing him the obligation to enjoy the given outcome, or put an end to an atrocity that he might have uncovered unknowingly. Either way, the swordsman would eventually sit on a bar stool of a rather unfamiliar establishment, bottles of expensive looking labels lining the walls as the uncanny shine of the red lampshades blur into a lazy discotheque glamour. The customers were flooding in from the main entrance with their bills in hand, though they didn't seem very well off to begin with, adorning nothing more but simpleton's garment with messy hair and dirty faces, their expressions grimy and wearing thin. Paupers, indefinitely. Addicts? Something unheard of.
The setting was believable, but their audience was something questionable. Though he didn't bother asking as he feigned a chiseled smile into his jaw, the coat-sporting individual already handing him a glass with ice cubes melting into it. "I bet ya haven't come to this place, yet, ey? It's nice and cheap, and they've got the best alcohol in the city." his hands gestured over towards the lady who worked with the drinks, and while her expression was indifferent, her willingness to grant the man his order over the others who laid in wait betrayed her cold stare.
A faint tinkling sound funded itself into the atmosphere as the bartender handled a bottle with gloved hands, the contests sloshing lazily against the glass. It was a palpable shade of velvet, he noted, watching careful fingers pour it diligently into his cup. A staggering burst of energy weaved through his weapon again, making the sheath clang about noisily in its wake. Terith would still it with his hand a bit, already acknowledging the fact that there was potential threat hiding in all of this, yet unable to draw out his sword to ask the spirits what the man's intention was.
'Damn it. Gotta down it, then, no other choice.' he thought, his fingers lightly tapping against the rim of the glass.
The road beneath him was no less dusty and worn, but it was extravagantly familiar, still. One of his very first excursions led him there, a black suit lining his form as he attended a wedding with his sword strapped unto his shoulders and a lady by his side. The battles that followed were unexpected, though they remained victorious to the end, regardless of the injuries they had to brace just for the bride's sake. He'd harbor a smile as he dug into the memory, recalling the woman's name and wondering, briefly, if she ever continued her venture as a wizard, much like him, who found a strength in the various faces he's come to associate himself with.
His mulling came to an abrupt stop, however, as his patience was called over by a man in a red coat, his wide smile inviting and his ever-green eyes teetering deep into the voids of his soul. He raised a brow as the shady figure approached his form, a low foreboding feeling worming into his gut as his blade rattled a little in its sheathe, the energies restless with the prospect of danger drawing near with each step the man took.
"Lovely evening ain't it, lad?" he'd say, movements waning in and out of deception and fabrication. "You come here often?"
The swordsman would only gaze, his thumb glossing over the webbing that threaded over his blade's handle. "I don't think so, I've only ever come here once." he replied with a tight grin, mimicking the tone of an unknowing traveler. "Why'd you ask?"
There had been a hint of amusement spinning listlessly in the man's eyes, undermining and full of respite as he ushered an arm over Terith's shoulders, beckoning him to move with an urgent push. "Well I've got just the thing for weary wanderers like you, to promptly give you a taste of what's it like to be Rose Garden. A nice drink at one of the finest bars out there, and it's on me, don't worry about the pay!"
His weapon pulsed in his grip as he was lead astray into a narrowing corner of the main road, the lights buzzing even further into the color spectrum as their neon shades made his eyes sting. He was not sure what playing the fool would garner him in a situation like this, but resulting to rash decisions were uncalled for, and he wasn't eager to make a scene.
Perhaps Terith would call it an experiment over anything else for that matter, fiddling about with what he could muddle himself into, and allowing him the obligation to enjoy the given outcome, or put an end to an atrocity that he might have uncovered unknowingly. Either way, the swordsman would eventually sit on a bar stool of a rather unfamiliar establishment, bottles of expensive looking labels lining the walls as the uncanny shine of the red lampshades blur into a lazy discotheque glamour. The customers were flooding in from the main entrance with their bills in hand, though they didn't seem very well off to begin with, adorning nothing more but simpleton's garment with messy hair and dirty faces, their expressions grimy and wearing thin. Paupers, indefinitely. Addicts? Something unheard of.
The setting was believable, but their audience was something questionable. Though he didn't bother asking as he feigned a chiseled smile into his jaw, the coat-sporting individual already handing him a glass with ice cubes melting into it. "I bet ya haven't come to this place, yet, ey? It's nice and cheap, and they've got the best alcohol in the city." his hands gestured over towards the lady who worked with the drinks, and while her expression was indifferent, her willingness to grant the man his order over the others who laid in wait betrayed her cold stare.
A faint tinkling sound funded itself into the atmosphere as the bartender handled a bottle with gloved hands, the contests sloshing lazily against the glass. It was a palpable shade of velvet, he noted, watching careful fingers pour it diligently into his cup. A staggering burst of energy weaved through his weapon again, making the sheath clang about noisily in its wake. Terith would still it with his hand a bit, already acknowledging the fact that there was potential threat hiding in all of this, yet unable to draw out his sword to ask the spirits what the man's intention was.
'Damn it. Gotta down it, then, no other choice.' he thought, his fingers lightly tapping against the rim of the glass.
