The glass bottle seemed to laugh at you, the golden honey inside begging you to drink it. In its eyes, you were pathetic; you were naive. Eyes burning with guilt, you lift the bottle to your lips and gulp down the last of the brandy. You knew that Kaila would be mad when you returned home, yet still you drink. You beckon to the bartender, a young girl with golden hair and a dress woven of melted copper.
You, along with everyone else in the tavern, are memorized by the woman’s beauty
Placing a twenty-dollar bill on the bar to cover your drinks and Hanna's tip, you cause the tavern bell to ring one last time.
Though as much as you may like to drink and feel sorry for yourself, you still have a heart of gold.
“Oh, don't get me wrong,” a sudden acid fills her words as she holds up her hands,
“Timeless time for all who wandergreen plucked trees and visions yonderazure throne of the sky and of the seadiadem of flowers, Gahana's beauty.What one can hear, the wind has sungand in the ruins, the ladder's last rung,Through branches, doors and caverns olda silver ship, a crew untold.Forever young, forever freebeyond this blessed world's miseryGahana of the earth and of the airelixir of forever young, forever young and fair.”
You attempt to shake her but she does not wake. There is no fat on her body, only skin and bones. Her hair is frozen to her face, and her eyes are plastered open. You wish to your god Alma that you could see anything, any spark of life in her eyes. Instead, there is only a glazed over look that haunts you and makes you wish you could look away and yet you cannot. You notice now that her skin is not pale but indeed light blue, and her lips are the color of blueberries. You pull your hand away and slide to the ground, mouth wide open in horror. There was a child before you, a child frozen to death.
A facial feature that demands honor and respect, though you wonder why a purebred elven girl was working as a bartender, and not as a dragon rider or such.
The second woman, who seemed to have an air of authority over her two companions, was the most peculiar looking of all
You, along with everyone else in the tavern, are memorized by the woman’s beauty. Even Eona stops working to stare at the visitors. In all but a moment, the entire room falls silent and as the black haired woman begins to speak, you have no choice but to listen. Her voice is wine, trickling out into the room and staining all that it touches with a hint of sweetness and elegance. The words that she forms on her tongue are English, though almost unrecognizable through her curious druid accent. The man lightly plucks at the strings of his lute as she speaks, and the music creates a book where inside, her story lays waiting. Your breath catches as her words illuminate your mind and leave the alcohols effects all but forsaken.
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