The rocky seaside was possibly one of the worst places a kingdom could settle on. Cold, frostbitten winters announced their arrivals with seemingly endless days of rain, and continued on in that fashion until the weather allowed a beam of sunshine or a plain cloudy day. Greyer ran his cold fingers through his mousy brown hair, slicking it back. Taking his pipe from his inner vest pocket, he placed it in his mouth, but didn't bother with lighting it - the sheets of rain cascading from the sky would have made it impossible, and even attempts of shielding a flame from the downpour would not save it from the wind.
He shrugged, continuing to lean against the side of city hall. Being around society again was refreshing, he hated to admit. Their fear was almost exhilarating, just watching them scurry to and fro in the rain made him grin. "Good evening, Mister Thewlis." He gave a nod in salutation as the gentleman walked past, keeping his hold on his top hat as he greeted Greyer with a slight smile and a cautionary statement about getting indoors and out of the rain. Greyer smiled in return and shook his head as the man continued on his way down the cobblestone path.
The wind began to pick up, causing the candlelit lanterns to swing from their hooks. He took this as a sign to get up and head back to the family tannery, his current place of residence. After casting a backward glance at the city hall, he weaved his way around the lamp posts, a little skip in his step. When he arrived to the small shoppe, Spritzer - the young bartender who had recently become his constant evening companion - was already at the door, apparently eager for his return. "Locked out again?" he chuckled, pulling an iron key from his trouser pocket. The youth nodded, shivering. "Get in," he smiled, placing a hand on Spritzer's shoulder and nudging him over the threshold. "Guess I'll have Fenrir make a duplicate key for you tomorrow morning." Spritzer prodded at the logs in the fireplace with a thick twig before successfully getting them to catch flame. As Greyer removed his thick coat and hung it by the door, the evening ritual of settling down for the night began; and, as the bartender climbed into Faolan's old bed, Greyer slipped into his bedroom.
Closing the door behind him, he watched as several pieces of paper hanging from the walls fluttered. He lit the oil lamps around the room with caution before sitting down at his desk, continuing his research about the Curse that had fallen over the kingdom he had once loved.
[I know this piece doesn't have much to tell, but well, I wanted to share the design of it, and, perhaps confirm that Greyer and Spritzer aren't camping by the gates like they were in previous story drafts, but staying in the Lyall Tannery - the family shoppe. I guess it kinda shows Greyer's "gentler" side as well, if anything.]
He shrugged, continuing to lean against the side of city hall. Being around society again was refreshing, he hated to admit. Their fear was almost exhilarating, just watching them scurry to and fro in the rain made him grin. "Good evening, Mister Thewlis." He gave a nod in salutation as the gentleman walked past, keeping his hold on his top hat as he greeted Greyer with a slight smile and a cautionary statement about getting indoors and out of the rain. Greyer smiled in return and shook his head as the man continued on his way down the cobblestone path.
The wind began to pick up, causing the candlelit lanterns to swing from their hooks. He took this as a sign to get up and head back to the family tannery, his current place of residence. After casting a backward glance at the city hall, he weaved his way around the lamp posts, a little skip in his step. When he arrived to the small shoppe, Spritzer - the young bartender who had recently become his constant evening companion - was already at the door, apparently eager for his return. "Locked out again?" he chuckled, pulling an iron key from his trouser pocket. The youth nodded, shivering. "Get in," he smiled, placing a hand on Spritzer's shoulder and nudging him over the threshold. "Guess I'll have Fenrir make a duplicate key for you tomorrow morning." Spritzer prodded at the logs in the fireplace with a thick twig before successfully getting them to catch flame. As Greyer removed his thick coat and hung it by the door, the evening ritual of settling down for the night began; and, as the bartender climbed into Faolan's old bed, Greyer slipped into his bedroom.
Closing the door behind him, he watched as several pieces of paper hanging from the walls fluttered. He lit the oil lamps around the room with caution before sitting down at his desk, continuing his research about the Curse that had fallen over the kingdom he had once loved.
[I know this piece doesn't have much to tell, but well, I wanted to share the design of it, and, perhaps confirm that Greyer and Spritzer aren't camping by the gates like they were in previous story drafts, but staying in the Lyall Tannery - the family shoppe. I guess it kinda shows Greyer's "gentler" side as well, if anything.]
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