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Post by Atticus Fallon on Oct 24, 2013 13:02:31 GMT -6
Yawning, Atticus raised his hands over his head, stretching a bit. Aquamarine colored eyes glanced around the empty tavern. Earlier in the day, it usually wasn't busy, which wasn't a bad thing. The night shifts had always kept him more than busy, constantly working, constantly running back and forth to one place or another. So a slower morning was usually welcome. Although the tavern wasn't officially open until later in the evenings, Atticus liked to keep the doors unlocked for people to meander in to have a drink or two throughout the day. It was better for the business, anyway. Only left room for the possibility of making more money, and there was certainly nothing wrong with that. The tavern owner tilted his neck from side to side as he made his way out into the house scattered with tables and chairs here and there. Pulling a rag from his back pocket, Atticus started wiping down a few of the tables and chairs, throwing away some of the glass bottles and putting away some of the tankards that had been left out over night. Once the tavern was closed up for the night, there were some nights the owner was just so dead on his feet he couldn't stay away much longer. Mornings were a good time to get cleaned up and ready for the following night. Once the front had been cleaned, Atticus disappeared into the back to restock some of the liquor at the front. No one had come in thus far, he had the feeling he'd be all right to go dig in the back for a few minutes. If someone did in fact come in, they could wait until he got back. ★ Bar stuff.
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Post by Tempest Riveria on Oct 24, 2013 13:10:31 GMT -6
The light rain that had followed him from Meridell was persistent today. Sighing, Tempest adjusted his hat to keep the rain water off his face as best as possible, wanting to get his business done as quickly as possible before renting a carriage to take him back home before Elwyn did... ...gods only knew what Elwyn would do if left to his own devices for too long. However, the carriage wouldn't depart for another hour at least, leaving him with little to do but kill time. Staying outside was out of the question, as well, with the precipitation (which was mostly annoying) drizzling down so incessantly. A tavern would not typically be his first choice, but alcohol was avoidable and most taverns had food. He couldn't deny that he was hungry. Opening the door, he stepped inside and hesitated on the mat long enough to shake water off his top coat and his hat before walking in. It was early, but the place was open and seeing no other customers was an oddity. Of course, he also saw no employees. Maybe it had been unlocked by accident...? ★ atticus fallon
★ you in trouble boy
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Post by Atticus Fallon on Oct 24, 2013 13:59:02 GMT -6
Glancing upwards, Atticus noticed raindrops drizzling down the storage room window. Rainy days had always been Atticus's number one weather choice. There was something calming and soothing about it, and it always made for a nice day. He supposed the rain was what was keeping customers from coming in, that being the case, he could understand. Not everyone enjoyed walking out and about in the rain. Clearing his throat, the elf hoisted up a large box filled with bottles; glass tinked lightly together as he moved from the storage room back towards the front. Aquamarine eyes turned downwards towards the small sheet of paper resting lopsidedly on top of the bottle tops. "Cleaned up the house, got that, cleaned behind the bar, got that... looks like I need to bring in about three more crates of liquor," he muttered to himself as he neared back towards the bar. Upon looking up, a startle went through the male, nearly dropping the crate of bottles. Unable to speak, Atticus stood there for a moment staring at the male that stood across from him. The mayor of Meridell was standing in his tavern, looking regal and poised as usual. Swallowing hard, the blue haired elf walked behind the bar, setting the crate down before he broke every bit of glass. "Lord Mayor..." ★ That sounds unpleasant.
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Post by Tempest Riveria on Oct 31, 2013 15:34:14 GMT -6
...well, if he didn't believe in fate before, he certainly did now. Raising an eyebrow, Tempest reached up to remove his hat slowly as he took in the appearance of the young elf before him. A few steps were taken to the edge of the bar and he set his hat down on the wood, ensuring to make the other male as uncomfortable as possible with his gaze. It was as though he was a child again. Tempest could see it in his eyes. "Fallon," he greeted after a long moment, his eyebrow still raised delicately and giving no other indication of his mood or thought process as he tapped his fingers on the wood of the bar twice. "Well, well. And here I was thinking that something tragic had happened to you, the way that you vanished with nary a trace nor farewell. Become a professional barfly, have we?"★ atticus fallon
★ be afraid. be very afraid.
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Post by Atticus Fallon on Nov 1, 2013 12:45:13 GMT -6
A very uncomfortable very large lump formed in the center of the younger elf's throat. Seeing someone from back home clearly wasn't the way Atticus wanted to spend any of his time. Ever. Especially the big wig he'd stood before on more than one occurrence having gotten into trouble in one way or another. Out of all the taverns or bars Tempest could have visited, why did it have to be this one? Atticus couldn't help but feel as though this visit wasn't going to go terribly well. Hell, there was a chance he wouldn't even make it out without having some skin ripped off. This day was not going to go like he hoped. Aquamarine eyes trailed over the elegant elf that sat on the other side of the bar, looking as well and put together as he always was. Chewing on his bottom lip, silence passed between the two as he struggled to make words form. It was amazing how one's life could go so smoothly for a short while until their past catches up to them face to face -- literally. Bringing a hand upwards, Atticus rubbed the back of his neck. "I own this tavern, yes," he finally said, nodding slightly, trying to avoid eye contact as best he could. The best way Atticus could describe keeping eye contact with Tempest was sort of like staring a cobra head on. The result was usually unpleasant. Leaning down, the blue haired elf grabbed a bottle and a glass with shaky hands. A slender wine glass was placed before Tempest before a deep red liquid poured inside. Maybe wine would be a decent peace offering. ★ He is very afraid.
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