Seear's Dance Rp [5/5]

"I'm just following this guy around"

 

"So, who are you?"

 

Nothing that would last a week or longer?

 

Fraise took another sip of his mug before speaking, glancing at Deton before turning to the woman,
"I actually was simply wandering around, looking for a good time till I stumbled across here. But, to be frank, I also had a couple of questions in my mind and I thought this would be a good place to seek out answers. I don't suppose you know people here that have a good knowledge on Varla?"

 

Staring at Vitiate for a moment, the man says simply. "Bartender." And pours a drink on a glass. Putting it aside, he gets another bottle and fills a tray halfway with it. Putting water on the rest, the bartender leaves it on the table that the monk is sat on. As the man leaves for a few moments, the spirit scans the room. It's the usual tavern building, with stairs leading up to what he can only assume are the rooms. A simple shortsword hangs above the bottles, on a polished oak stand. Under it, 'Thought' is written in iron letters.

Coming back to the room with a roll of bandages, a curved needle and thread, the bartender pulls a chair and sits in front of Vitiate. "I'm also the owner of this inn, my name is Sate." He extends his hand for a handshake.

Canned food hasn't been invented yet, so not really. A few things can last a little longer, like beef jerky and stuff like that, but not much asides from that.

Giving Deton a simple 'Hm', the woman turns to Fraise. She puts a finger on the table. "Name your questions. I'll see if I can answer since you two don't seem to be the folk that lives here."

Putting her hand under the table, she pulls out a mug with the known smell of black tea, which she promptly begins sipping. Shooting glances at the two men, she says. "Names."

 

"Good man. Pleasure to meet you."

I look around the tavern and see a cleaver on the bartender's counter.

"Mind if I borrow that? I'll wash it off."

 

The man chuckles. "Sure you will. Come on, keep still while I clean that." Putting a piece of cloth on the tray, he applies some pressure on the wound with it. The stinging sensation informs Vitiate that there's alcohol in the mixture. Cupping a bit of the diluted alcohol on his hands, the bartender pours it on the monk's wounded arm, which earns him a yelp.

"Try not to scream, alright?" The man says as he gets the needle and thread, connecting the two and beginning the suture. "Why are you here in Varla, if you don't mind me asking?"

 

"Fraise Othima. Lovely to meet you. Now, regarding my questions. What do you know about this mysterious librarian death of ours? Any connections to him? Or do you know of people with connections to him? It's a lovely mystery that I want to get to the bottom of. Another thing. There's an embassy nearby that is strangely from Opladyl that caught my attention. Do you know anything about this? It's rather...peculiar to me."
Fraise took a sip of his black tea, glancing at Deton. He paused to allow the man to chime in on anything. If nothing was to be added, he turned his attention back to the woman.

 

The woman seemed surprised at the mention of an Opladylian embassy on Colden, eyes slightly more open. However, she focused. "The librarian was very fond of his job. He wouldn't let anyone in without a card he had made the day before, and needless to say, he liked his books. I don't think he'd let anyone shady inside. Perhaps that's what earned him the wrong type of attention." Leaning closer, the woman adjusted herself on her seat. "Now tell me more about that embassy from Opladyl."

 

"Library. Was looking for a specific kind of lightning, and one thing lead to another. Cleaver?"

 

"Why so you want the cleaver? You don't seem to be the most sane right now." The bartender says, still looking down at the arm he's stitching. He's surprisingly good at it, turning the arm around so he can stitch the other side.

"Try not to stab yourself again on the near future."

 

"Maybe."

 

Not having anything to add i just say "Deton"

 

"See this bracelet?"
The cold, bluey-gray steel bracelet glows.
"It's a kind of... inhibitor. I have every intention of getting this damn thing off me. If I had the cleaver, I could use the blunt, unsharpened end to break it and then go from there. Imagine trimming your toenails, but with a cleaver and steel. Or, alternatively, point me to rhe nearest guillotine and the force should be enough to crack it open without chopping my arm off. I'm also one hell of a chef."

 

Approach the stall with the jerky.
-----
@H0Y0Y0Y0Y0Y0B0Y hai

 

"You realize I know what that bracelet is right?" Sate looks at the monk with a playful smile, quirking an eyebrow. "If you have it, you probably pissed someone off." Turning Vitiate's arm around once more after he finished the sutures, the bartender puts a finger on the runes with a nostalgic look on his face. "They sure made it better..." The man gives a small chuckle before getting up.

"Therefore, no cleaver to you. May I interest you in a drink though? I have a feeling that you might like some Illiarel limoncello." As he speaks, the man gets two bottles and puts them on the countertop, one with a green liquid and the other with a more lime tone to it. "I too like to remember my land once in a while."

Not waiting for Vitiate's answer, he pours some of the lime liquid in a glass and begins slowly sipping it.

With a mediocre variety to the jerky, Wren begins looking through packs and prices. A pack of jerky of about one kilogram is two Copper Pieces. It would appear this is the cheapest option for jerky around.

 

"Surprise surprise. Mostly a misunderstanding."


how the fuk i get this bracelet off

 

Fraise quirked an eyebrow and took another sip of his tea before speaking,

"Well, I was walking with Deton after separating from our...makeshift party, you could say. As we were walking, I spotted a sigil on the side of a building and realized that it was from Opladyl. The embassy itself held a shroud of mist around it, so for both of our sake, I didn't approach it. It was strange to say the least. I hadn't realized they held some form of control here in Varla. Some people nearby simply walked past the embassy without batting an eye. I wonder if something's amiss with it. Hmph, nonetheless, perhaps you are right that our librarian might've crossed paths with the wrong people. Stil, it's odd that he was the one that was targeted. Why not pick off a noble or one of the guard? Questions, questions..."

He tapped his fingers and took another hefty sip of the tea, feeling slightly tired from the walking he had done throughout the day.

 

Looking at the monk with the glass still in his mouth, Sate smiled at him. "I doubt so." Putting the glass down, he pulled a hidden chair from under the countertop.
"So. Will you join me for a drink?"

The commander's key. You aren't reaaaaally supposed to take it off. If you try really hard you might, but if you follow the plan of cutting off your arm, for example, it's gone forever. That and a lot of blood. You would probably need that last one.

The woman leaned back and straightened her position. "Hm." She put simply, looking down at the ground and considering her thoughts. "If you take me to it later, I can provide you two with a room. Since you are just following him, I suppose you won't find a problem with sharing a room." The woman says, looking at Deton. Trying to find a hint of sarcasm, in her voice, the Herilian finds none.

"Two beds?" He asks, to which she glances at Fraise before looking back at Deton. "It can be arranged to be only one." Her question seems to have a serious tone to it.

@BlueSlimerino

 

"You've got me all wrong. I'm helping him so he can help me later, there's nothing more to that. And i'd like my own room if we're getting rooms"