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Post by fediarwoods on Jun 16, 2016 12:51:30 GMT -6
Why Is The Rum Gone Year 1700, taking place just after the flower festival.
Weeks of working on one structure had finally paid off: there was one piece in the structure that caused trouble over and over again, making him come back to the workplace higher in the mountains every few weeks. But now - he had finally fixed the problem, for good, he hoped, and thus there was reason to celebrate. He was down to his favorite pub, settling down at the bar and ordering a drink - one of many to come.
Southpaw & Zireael fediarwoods & themoonphase |
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Post by fediarwoods on Jun 16, 2016 13:09:01 GMT -6
Southpaw | Stationary Merchant | War-Forged
All he had to do was cast a grin to the stallion behind the bar and he understood. He came here so fucking often that it only took one look to let him now that there needed to be more alcohol. He zipped the very last piece of rum out of his large cup, enjoying the way it slowly drained down his throat, softly burning the sides as it did. He could usually enjoyed beer too, but there were just evenings - he couldn't really tell why - that he just needed rum. The drinks were different in every way and he could talk about it for ends on. But to be honest: it didn't really matter what he was talking about when he was getting drunk, every subject would get him talking for hours.
He softly snorted as the sound of an opening door reached his ears; and just as they turned, his head followed. With his dark brown eyes he gazed towards the door, where another stallion had come up. An older one, at the looks of him, probably just like him in for some good drinks. The stallion nodded towards him as their eyes crossed, and he nodded back in return, a smirk on his dark muzzle. It wasn't often that he really met others in the pub. He usually knew the ones that came in and went out; there were a lot of people who came her frequently, just like him, so the faces became familiar over time. He wasn't one to make friends easily - al though the alcohol helped greatly with that - but a greeting was something he was quite used to.
His eyes converted back to the bartender, who had just filled another cup with rum and with a wooz-ing sounds shifted it gliding over the bar towards him. ''Thank youu,'' he said, his words slightly deformed by his rolling tongue. He stopped the cup with his telekineses, lifting it towards his mouth short after. It was still quite early in the evening, but he knew himself; he would probably be the last one going out.
[Word Count: 354]
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Post by dayzea on Jun 16, 2016 13:42:23 GMT -6
This bloody headache, the silver mare cursed to herself. Headaches usually meant a storm was brewing, and it was a pain that occurred on a weekly basis. Zireael was parched after a long day on the mountain, and her pace on the decline slowly quickened along with the clouds that thickened at her base. She didn't often leave, mostly because she wasn't permitted to, but hell, it was the weekend, and she was determined to go to town for a drink and a laugh.
The hustle and bustle of Skeldr Town was something she deeply missed, and it never grew old, as she rarely had the chance to visit. Suffice to say, on a Friday night the streets were riddled with horses enjoying themselves, both sober and outright drunk, and Zireael envied them. All the local bands were jamming in pubs here and there, and the Weather Witch quietly hummed along to the tunes she remembered as she made her way to her favourite pub, The Golden Gram, where the bartenders were old family friends of her's.
With a smile, the black-haired damsel snuck herself by a pair of already shitfaced men just outside the entrance. Deliberately she swung the door open, causing it to hit the wall on the inside with a loud smack from the wood-on-wood contact, making her presence known. But before the patrons inside could even turn to face her, she was shouting the bartender's name.
"Abel!" She called out in a cheerful yet stern tone, pausing in the door's entrance and bustling the jaguar pelt that sat around her neck as all the men inside simultaneously turned to her. Holding her head high, she made her way toward the bar. "My good man, please tell me you have some Frydenlund in-house," she cried. It was her favourite ale after all. "All this work and no play has my throat drier than the Sear. And this damned headache I've got..." The mare paused with the assumption he knew what she was getting at.
Silently she took a seat at the bar, beside a pale appaloosa stallion with dreadlocks in his hair. She patted down her pelt without making eye contact with anyone besides the bartender. Abel smiled at her and nodded at her request, greeting her with the typical "long time, no see" he gave her every time she made her way into town.
Words: 398 Etc: I made up the name of the pub, inspired by Gram, a sword in Norse mythology. Also, Frydenlund is a legit Norwegian ale! ♥ |
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Post by fediarwoods on Jun 20, 2016 4:44:37 GMT -6
Southpaw | Stationary Merchant | War-Forged
The hustle and bustle of the bar was a joy to his ears. During the day he was usually alone. Skeldr Town was a busy happening, especially during the evening when most of the citizens had a few hours of from work and finally gave themselves some freedom in the local bars and inns. But he himself usually didn't work in Skeldr Town - his job always brought him away from society. Deep in the mountains to the heavy structures that brought paths from mountain to mountain and made sure that the higher tops were still reachable. It was usually snowy, cold as hell and you could hardly use your eyes because of the heavy snow fall. Some horses would prefer literally anything over doing his job, but he loved it. The silence, the way it toughened him up to be a man like he was supposed to be. He was build for these weather conditions and he would bloody hell use it.
Even though he loved it, he could really enjoy the way everything seemed to awake when the night fell and the bars opened up. Everyone became a lot more social and happy; free from their diplomatic ways. Even he, the biggest grump in town, was a lot more enjoyable when he had a few drinks and the atmosphere around him was pushing him to be a bit more social too.
As he took another gulp of his drink, a grin curled up the corners of his heavy lips. He and social - those words just didn't belong together. Even with all the alcohol in his veins. He couldn't see himself being social, but maybe, just maybe, the simple truth was that it was simply the alcohol, not he himself, which was social enough to interact with others. And that, that right there, was the exact reason why he found alcohol work of witches: it gave you a rush which made you wanna get more, but you end up doing things you wouldn't have done in a million times on a clear mind.
A big crack! traveled through the bar as the entrance door swung open again - this time with a lot more force than before. Cold air rushed in before the door could close again. The sounds ringed in his ears and he couldn't help but turn his head as a cheerful women's voice called out to what he supposed was the bartender. The sight he behold he really enjoyed: the mare was a heavy one, but filled with all elegance her body could carry. Her movement smooth as butter, her looks fine as that of an angel. Yet she held some sort of dark, mysterious air over her, one he could see from a mile a far. He had seen that sort of thing before; it belonged to some of War-Forged, but yet he couldn't quite place it. Following her movements he noticed that he wasn't the only one watching - her entrance had pulled the full attention of every breathing stallion in the bar and with that he turned his head back again. Staring wasn't what a gentlemen would do. That, and he wasn't in the mood to fight every single fuck in this bar to get a drop of attention from the lady. She'd probably seen it all before.
Still he couldn't quite keep his attention to himself, nor his drink, when that same lady took place right beside him. He could feel the scent of her pelt tingle in his nostrils. Charming as he could be he sneered sideways, watching how she petted her coat and cried out to the bartender in front of them. ''Ah, a drink's not going to help on that headache of yours,'' he grinned jokingly, taking another gulp from his rum. He tried to drown the other words that came up in his head - how he could help her get some play tonight, or how he was a master of changing Sears into seas, but he gulped them down, just like he did with the rum. No chasing away this lady, no. ''Though I must say that's a great choice of ale you make.''
[Word Count: 697]
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Post by dayzea on Jun 20, 2016 12:22:39 GMT -6
An ear flicked toward the dreadlocked stallion seated beside her as soon as she heard him speak. His words were quite true, but clearly he had never met her before. With a soft chuckle, she gave Abel a nod as he slid her drink down the counter. With telekinetic glow she stopped it, causing some of the contents to spill over the brim. Finally, she turned to the stallion before taking her first sip.
"Your words speak true," she spoke softly with a smile. "If I'm honest, it's more-so to take my mind off of it." She knew how ridiculous she sounded, and she couldn't help but laugh, no matter how true the statement was. It was never to the point of being black-out drunk, though she could admit she was a light-weight and typically two beers practically had her falling over her hooves, but she wasn't planning on telling him that.
"Oh, you drink it? It's definitely an acquired taste, but it's my go-to." Not many people she knew actually enjoyed Frydenlund, which is why she was ecstatic when Abel had it in stock. It was to the point where she thought she was the only one who drank it, so hearing the stallion agree with her taste made her violet eyes light up. But she wondered if he was just saying that to trigger conversation, because she could smell the rum in his glass from where she was sitting. "You must be more of a hard licquour man, hmm?" She gave him a quick wink, and he might have taken it the wrong way, but her intentions were friendly. "Definitely gets you drunk faster."
Words: 276 |
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Post by fediarwoods on Jun 25, 2016 11:37:18 GMT -6
Southpaw | Stationary Merchant | War-Forged
He was a laid back stallion, while at the same time he could be quite on edge. Like how it irritated him when people oh so slowly took their time before they answered you. It gave him the feeling as if their time was more valuable than his and it angered him from the inside out. Normally he would give a growl, or gnashing of his teeth, but this time around it was different. It was the air around her, her whole attitude. It gave her a touch of mystery, a touch of elegance. As if she was unreachable. And oh, how he loved that.
A grin played around his dark muzzle, her soft words reaching his fuzzy ears. ''Well,'' he chuckled, ''in that case, I'd say cheers,'' his voice low and heavy, slightly raw at the edges of his words. He lifted his cup in the air, before taking another big sup of his drink. He loved how the substance warmed all sides of his throat, softly tingled before burning at the edges. It was as if it begged him to just take another sup. And another. And another drink after that.
''Ay, I don't do so frequently, but the taste's one I must admit I like. It's the bitter sweetness of it, somewhat aromatic,'' he said as he winked sideways, taking another short look at her. She sure was a fine lady to look at - especially those stunning eyes of hers. She didn't cast a gaze his way much, but the times she did, boy did he liked the color of it. It was as if two small amethyst looked right back at him, laced with those dark lashes of hers. It wasn't a color you saw often, and they definitely would stand out in a crowd.
He couldn't help but let go of a chuckle at her question, and he couldn't help but notice the wink either. Was that she hitting on him, or was he getting paranoid? Maybe it was just the alcohol playing tricks on his mind already. He decided he enjoyed it either way. ''You could say that,'' he nodded, before taking another sup out of his drink. Those cups seemed to get smaller after every drink. He gazed at Abel for a moment, but than decided it was indeed the alcohol working in on his brain. ''Ay, a big man like me can surely handle a few - don't you worry,'' he gazed sideways, his dark brown eyes observing her again for just a few mere seconds.
''I must confess,'' his voice a bit mumbling, a dark edge to it; his double tongue was definitely getting worse, slowly. He grinned, without looking sideways. ''I almost feel a bit neglected,'' he said, turning to her again. The distance between them was still respectable enough, still he could feel his scent tingle in his nostrils. ''Tell me, how is it possible you know Abel, while I, who spend probably just as much time here-if not more, haven't seen a lady like you before?''
[Word Count: 517]
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Post by dayzea on Jun 29, 2016 7:33:11 GMT -6
There was something about this man... something she knew all too well, yet at the same time it was something that felt anew every time she experienced it. The fact that they had just met, and she had hardly paid him any eye, yet she didn't want to leave. What could it possibly have been? More than likely it was that he demanded her attention and when a man as handsome as this put his foot down for such a thing, how could a lady not oblige?
At his request, Zireael raised her glass in the air, holding her chin up along with it. "Prost," she called out, and her curly bangs slid back off her face as she sipped her ale. She removed the glass from her lips and held it in front of her to examine with narrowed eyes, as if it was her first time trying the ale and she officially decided she was living for the taste.
Quietly, Zireael placed her cup back on the counter in front of her and gave the stallion another moment of eye contact. It seemed to make him more comfortable, after all. She smiled as she heard him utter the word "neglected."
"I apologize," she said with another subtle wink. "And I don't blame you for your confusion. I am a Weather Witch, so I spend much of my time at Skeldr's peak. That would explain why you don't see much of me... why no one does, really. But Abel here is a good friend of mine," she turned to the bartender with a sweet smile on her face, and he returned the favour with a slow nod of his head before returning to his other patrons. "He knew my parents, long before they moved to the other side of Onea." She took a long pause and lowered her eyes to his seat, as if reminiscing about her younger days, long before she moved to the mountain. "He used to watch my siblings and I when we were young. If there was anything that even remotely kept me in line when I was a child it was Abel. So here's to you, old man." She gave Abel a toothy grin from across the bar and raised her glass once more to him before taking a drink.
Turning back to the stallion next to her, she gave him a curious expression. "What about yourself? With that look of yours you could make for a strong Raider. Surely you don't spend all your time here." She chuckled softly. "The least you could tell me is your name."
Words: 435 |
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Post by fediarwoods on Jul 1, 2016 8:08:28 GMT -6
Southpaw | War-Forged | Stationary Merchant
With a grin on his dark muzzle he eyed sideways when she saluted with him. He just couldn't help it, she just seemed to really appeal to him. The way her curls fell from the sides of her face, the glance over her purple eyes. She was sure a candy for the eye, and it seemed like he wasn't the only one thinking that way. He looked over his shoulders from out of the corners of his eyes, exchanging a look here and there that said more than enough on his opinion that they should just back the fuck off.
He wouldn't say that aloud though, no. He couldn't let her hear that - the way he was already taking claim upon her presence. So when he turned his head back forward and returned his gaze to the counter, the grin was back upon his face.
She sure knew how to work her way on him. She was spare with the eye contact, which only seemed to trigger his senses more. Or maybe it was the alcohol playing with his mind, while she did so with his hormones. He had them too, y'know, even though he wouldn't admit it.
He pulled one eyebrow up when she, again, winked at him. It was a subtle hint, or at least seemed like one, but he couldn't quite place the finger on it. She sure was playing with him. He nodded as she apologized - as if he found it only fare that she did so. There was a playful glance in his amber eyes, his pupil slightly widened by the alcohol running through his veins. ''I see,'' he smiled as he looked sideways again. ''A Weather Witch - I could've known that,'' he grinned and took another sup of his cup of rum. The bottom was already getting closer and he shortly wondered if the cups were really getting smaller, or if it was just his appetite growing.
From her voice he could hear that her thoughts wandered of for a moment; the subject around her parents probably being one that was heavy with sentiment. He decided to not get in onto it; he'd probably react to harsh anyway. There was a line too thin to wander on when he was already getting tipsy and did not know the lady in question that well. He wouldn't want to hit the wrong string.
''And I could've known too that Abel is old,'' he joked with Abel. He eyed the bartender for a moment, just like she did, and heaved his glass with the toasted to him. He drank the very last from his cup, to than put it back on the counter and shove it back towards Abel. The bartender understood without a word and went to give him just the same as what he had finished before.
His amber eyes wandered back to the lady next to him, his amber eyes meeting the curious expression on her face when he did so. He liked that expression on her, he decided. ''Ay, I could've if I wanted,'' he smiled. His gaze wandered to the cup Abel shove to him, again stopping the thing in front of him with his telekineses. The rum slightly spilled over the sides before it came to a still. His life would've been pretty different if he had chosen for that profession. When he was younger the thought had wandered his mind a million times, but he had never regretted the decision. He wouldn't have been a good raider, anyway. He was too diplomatic; a man of words instead of actions.
''Not all, but most of my free time anyways. You could say I'm a construction worker. Or a carpenter. I've always had more with wood anyway.'' He laughed for a moment, the word play was wrong there, but he'd already spilled the words. ''A merchant, some say, but I don't like that word. It's too fancy,'' he grinned.
Her soft chuckle was like music in his ears and played a smile across his muzzle. ''I can do that for a lady like you,'' his words playful, his voice still rough. ''Southpaw.'' His amber eyes locked onto her purple ones. ''Nice to meet ya, Weather Witch,'' he chuckled and took another sup of his drink.
[Word Count: 689]
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Post by dayzea on Jul 6, 2016 20:42:13 GMT -6
This man is irresistible.
The silver coloured mare shunned herself, pinning her ears and reminding herself that those old days of hers were in the past, and that it was time to do some real growing up. It had become so uncontrollable that one of her last partners produced a foal with her, and although she couldn't deny the fact that she loved the little one with all her heart, she knew that from then on she needed to focus on bettering herself rather than to be greedy and let both an infant and her father walk away, hardly knowing who she was. Gods forbid anyone had found out, she surely would have been exiled, and she didn't want to risk that again. She drank to the thought.
But holy shit, this man was giving her goosebumps. It didn't happen often, but as she thought about it she connected the dots. She did have a thing for drafty men like herself, and his hair was like no other mop she'd ever seen before. Zireael was practically drooling over it. If she couldn't hide it so damn well he'd think she were a freak. Yet maybe he'd like to find out.
Though maybe he wouldn't. In her peripherals she caught him occasionally giving her the side eye, but she shrugged it off. With a swift toss of her head her curly forelock draped across her forehead, casting a shadow over her eyes. "Southpaw. And I could have sworn you were Prince Charming," she offered him a suave half-smirk and hovered her lashes over her lids, blatantly trying to woo him. "Call me Zireael."
It was such a change in events. When he first began conversation she acted like she hardly knew he was there, and now, she was flirting. If only it weren't something that came so bloody easy to her, then maybe she could play it off, but Zireael knew she was a pro, and so did most of Onea.
"A carpenter, you say?" The black-haired mare turned to face away from him, behind the bar in front of her, acting like she didn't catch his naughty joke. "My home could use some working on. The weather's really starting to bite at the seams. Though... I doubt you'd ever want to make the trip that far up the mountain, would you?" In one swift movement she turned to face Southpaw once more, an almost puppy-dog expression in her lavender eyes.
Words: 410 |
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Post by fediarwoods on Aug 8, 2016 6:18:25 GMT -6
Southpaw | War-Forged | Stationary Merchant
With every sup of his drink he took, he could feel his head getting lighter. He loved the feeling of it. The way the alcohol burned in your throat, gave you shivers down your spine and made it feel like concrete was poured into your hooves. There was no way he was ever going to admit it, but alcohol was a drug, and he was addicted. It pushed his boundaries and eventually even made them disappear. He couldn't care less for it - except for the times he made so much havoc he was banned from the bar for at least a week. But that wore out too. The only people that really made a fuzz about it were his parents, even after all this time. No matter how he tried to keep his alcohol consumption to a low pit (an illusion he himself liked to believe in), they came to know anyway. Skeldr Town wasn't that big, and words traveled fast. Still he just shrugged it off; it wasn't like he got a family to care for, anyway, and as long as he didn't, he could be the free man he wanted to be. The drunk free man, to be exactly.
He turned his head to look at her again. It wasn't as subtile as before, or as swiftly, because as soon as his amber eyes focussed on her, he couldn't help but be captivated by the way she tossed her hair and the way she looked at him from under her lashes. He could feel the tingle in his lower belly, a shiver running over his spine. She played him, and she damn well knew she did. He grinned as he looked away, bluntly, but it was pretty clear from every feature on his face that she just got to him. And if she tried again, she would probably just wrap him around her finger and he would do anything she wanted. Anything he wanted.
''I just knew you were a Weather Witch, Zireael,'' the way he said her name; his voice raw and heavy, there was a certain desire in it. She shouldn't poke him the way she did - he would make things go south so fast she wouldn't even notice it. It played a smile across his muzzle and again he drank. ''Because it feel like you're casting spells on me, lady,'' he looked sideways again shortly, a slightly challenging, maybe even playful, glance in his eyes, his dreads hanging past his amber eyes. He shifted his gaze only seconds later, knowing he wouldn't want to look at her for too long - he could already feel himself getting needy, and he didn't want to feed the feeling any longer than he should. Instead he shot Abel another look, and the bartender again understood he wanted another drink. They seemed to go even faster than they did normally.
As she looked away his eyes lingered on her a little longer than they should have, but he looked away eventually; just in time to stop the next drink Abel shifted to him over the counter. He stopped it, a bit too harsh, for parts of the rum spilled over the edges of it. ''Such a shame,'' he muttered in between his breath, before he focussed his attention back on Zireael when she turned her head back to him and spoke again. He hadn't expected to see the pouty expression on her face; the way she widened her beautiful lavender eyes and blinked with her dark, long lashes. Of course he would. How could he say no to that look on her face? His heart melted from seeing it, and again it triggered him. This lady was working on his senses even more than the alcohol did and he absolutely loved it.
''For you I'd do anything, sweetheart. I love traveling that far up north, actually. It's so much peaceful up there, even if the weather's a bit more harsh. I can handle that,'' he grinned, giving her a wink, and taking another sup of his drink.
[Word Count: 681] I'm so sorry I'm such a slowpoke sometimes <3 I really love the interactions between these two, feels like they are each other's bad habit B)
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Post by dayzea on Aug 16, 2016 22:24:46 GMT -6
As soon as the man spoke her name, she knew she would be his. In fact, the first syllable had her near shivering, and she longed for it more than anything. With a flick of her lashes she watched Southpaw take another sip of his rum, and she could tell he was on the brink of drunkenness. She was okay with that; after all, what does one visit the bar to do?
She raised her glass again, and without lowering it to take a breath she finished the remaining ale. Quietly, she placed it back on the table and slid it over to the bartender.
"Shall I top up the glass for you, love?" He asked her subsequently after catching the sliding glass. It wasn't a romantic sort of love, but more-so the familial type.
With a shake of her head, the raven-haired witch turned to look at Southpaw whilst giving her reply to the bartender. "I think one will be all for me tonight, Abel." And he gave her a nod in agreement.
"Casting spells is what I do best, you know," she told Southpaw with another flick of her forelock. "Ironically, my occupation has nothing to do with magic." A laugh erupted from within the mare, and she let out another giggle as the rum spilled from her companion's glass when he attempted to stop it. As soon as her vision caught him looking up at her, she returned the gaze, and gave him a warm smile along with it. "Well, in that case, I'd love to have your company. Although, I won't be making my way up the mountain tonight; certainly not at this hour. Perhaps I'll stay at an inn." Without moving her head, she averted her gaze back at Abel, who was subtly watching the pair from behind the counter, pretending he was busy cleaning dirty dishes.
Words: 312
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Post by fediarwoods on Sept 16, 2016 6:49:51 GMT -6
Southpaw | War-Forged | Stationary Merchant
He was on the doorstep of being drunk and it was only logically that he didn't notice the way she reacted on him when he spoke her name out aloud, letting the raw tones of his voice get familiar to the tone of it, because he would be speaking out that name of hers lots and lots after this. He would be dreaming her name after this, just like his drunk mind silently already did. Even though he didn't notice the way she almost shivered when he spoke out her name, he could imagine her doing so. Oh, she was a lady out of a thousand, and it was not often he came across such a gem.
The gaze of his amber eyes slid sideways again, watching the features of her face as she spoke to Abel. She was not already leaving, was she? They were just getting started. He huffed shortly and raised his brows. ''You already done for the night?'' There was a pity in his raw voice, and a prominent tipsy roll of his tongue. ''I would be sad to see you go already,'' he muttered under his breath. He talked so easily when their was alcohol cursing through his veins. He didn't even notice the way she spoke to Abel - he knew the guy, and even though he was a really nice bartender, he was not one to be so easily jealous, or intimidated for that matter. Not to mention she'd said he was kind of family, wasn't it?
''Ahh, I knew you had something to do with that feeling brewing inside of me,'' he said playfully as he gazed in her lavendel eyes, another one of those elegant flicks of her forelock, and the more he thought she was playing with him. ''If you ask me, predicting weather is certainly a kind of witch craft,'' he said with a blink of an eye, before consuming another part of his drink. Now that he was already a few drinks in, the feeling of a burning throat stayed longer, just like the warmth did. It was the same lame, tingling feeling that slightly numbed his tongue into not speaking so fluently anymore.
He noticed just the way she averted her gaze from him, looking back to Abel behind the counter. It intrigued him, gave her a hint of mysteriousness, and he adored it. He and his drunk mind were noticing less and less, and Abel was completely out of his vision and thoughts. He nearly melted when she returned her gaze to him, smiling so warmly at him. Oh, this mare had her ways with him, he'd never really experienced it like this before.
He couldn't let her leave so easily, so he thought over ways of how to keep her here, convince her of another drink, or, well, take her home. He gulped a 'I can take you back to my place too,' back to where it came from, afraid that it would do more harm than good. No matter how badly he indeed wanted to take her back to his place. He had a guest room, of course he did, but that wasn't his intention, and she probably wouldn't interpreted it that way either.
''If I c-can't convince you for another drink, than at least let me walk you to an inn. I can't let a beauuu-tiful lady like you walk home alone at this hour,'' he said as he curled up one corner of his lips into a charming smile.
[Word Count: 590]
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