Post by Grayell on Jul 14, 2023 22:27:56 GMT -5
The ale was bad. Objectively bad in that he'd had better but right now, it had the bitter sweet taste of memory. Something in it said he was home but the larger part of him found that hard to stomach. There was a lot here he didn't care to remember and the memories he held dear to, had kept him away. A hard swallow. Deliberate and necessary. It was a great deal of pain and very deliberate denial that had kept him from warming this bar stool. Still, the ship needed repairs and would be in dock a while. Maybe it was time to do something else. Appoint someone else. He sighed.
He pushed the tankard aside with the back of his hand, looked down the bar at faces he didn't know and grunted. He got to his feet, groaning. Age and resentment made everything here, every damn thing, too bloody hard. The barkeep approached. He didn't know them.
"All done sirrah?"
"Yup. Accomodation?"
"We've two rooms free this day sirrah, our best room overlooking the bay and well, something less desirable. But it will suffice if you've not got the coin."
Huh. He did indeed. The coin. A funny thing. Hell with it, he'd likely drink his real funds before he was on a new tide. He pried it from a pocket and placed it on the bartop - gingerly - hesitantly. The barkeep he didn't know took it up with a somemwhat befuddled expression and held it to the light. It took a moment and then there it was, something sparked on his face and he looked a little apologetic.
"Ahhhh, just one moment?" he stammered. For the tiniest moment, it seemed he didn't know just which way to go. But he wasn't green and a moment later, walked into the back beyond view. Grayell looked about a little; he didn't face the room. No one he knew. Or recalled at least. The smell here was about as pleasant as the ale but in a like manner, it was familiar and of what's more, it was a change from life on the sea. Hmmm. Maybe a new ship? A boat even? Something small - different- maybe he'd stop his...
"Right sirrah, no charge for you as I'm sure you know. I do apologise, it's been a good while I wager since anyone has seen one of these. I'll know better in the future."
Grayell nodded, permitted a subtle but courteous smile to show his grattitude and tossed the keep a proper coin, which the keep snatched from the air with practiced ease.
"Thank you sirrah! Should you need of anything, the name is Jakob, you just say the word!"
Grayell was at the stairs already, but lazily waved to acknowledge the gesture. His ruck slung on his shoulder, his boot fell on the first step. Damn if this wasn't all too familiar. Another sigh before he wound his way up to the floor that hosted the quarters. The atmosphere changed.
Here, the scent was altered. Incense. Cheap perfume. Nerves. There was whatever ruckus occurred below intermingled with giggles, most insincere. Grunting. An argument. There. He made his way down the dimly lit hallway toward the 'luxury' suite but ahead - and almost in his way - one of the girls and someone (likely of little consequence) were arguing. Money? Payment. It didn't seem inordinary. He paid it no heed. The john did, however.
"Oi old man, whatchulookinat, eh?" challenged John. He was a large lad, rough around the edges. Scars. He smoked. His right shoulder gave him grief, likely an accident borne of hard work.
Grayell did little beyond acknowledge him by lowering his gaze and kept walking, closer to the wall now. Dickheads were in plenty supply and he'd decided he'd like to at least make an attempt at sleep. This wasn't his tavern, this wasn't his problem and the girls here did this for a living. They knew how to handle themselves.
"That's better old man, you just scurry on now. Liz and I have something to settle, so you just wait your turn with your cock in your hand, like every other sailor who washes up here. Go on, fuck off." John's voice had a snarky challenge lurking in it, something he likely earned with a rough childhood. Still, if Grayell had a copper for every asshole with an overinflated sense of self in Wistvale... He passed behind them and made for the room. Eyes were on him as he walked by, then they struck up their bickering. A gasp. Struggle. Grayell had his hand on the door, it was just ajar when it all changed with a word. Her voice. Deprived of breath.
"Help."
The ruck slumped from his shoulder as he rubbed his eyes with finger and thumb. He wasn't in the mood and what's more, he wanted to slip through Wistvale like a shadow. He'd no desire to have anyone talking. Even the stunt with the coin was stupid, but he hoped to get away with it. This, however, was a proper problem. His foot led and he turned back, his arms up, open. Disarming. Unthreatening. John had his pork pie hand clutched about her throat.
"Look mate, I'm sure you've paid for the time but the girl sets the limits. She's not into it, leave her be, yeah?" The words sounded reasonable. A plea. Not weak, unless he were out of practice. This wasn't the negotiation he was accustomed to on the sea. Less blood and black powder. Old mate was incensed by it though - Grayell could see his posture flare. He didn't let her go. Grayell's head dropped with yet another sigh and he paced closer.
"Fuck off idgit, or I've a mind to fuck you next." sneered the John, a slight chuckle on those words. He thought himself clever. He might have even meant it.
Grayell's hand settled gently on the man's shoulder.
"Friend. I'm sure whatever this squabble is, they can settle it amicably downstairs. Hell, how about I buy you a round? Let the girl go?" were the words, smooth as glass between tides. He meant it, plead even a little with that question. But he saw now the bruising on her side, where her blouse had been torn. It was both old and new, greens and yellows struck against purple and black. She was trembling. It came quick, but in that first motion, the brute at least let go of Liz.
John's right arm cocked back, Grayell was standing in his blind spot. His fist was bunched and flashed out to strike Grayell hard in the gut - but found nothing. It was his bad shoulder after all. Grayell had readily slipped further behind him and with what Liz would later try to recount as ease, slammed his boot into the back of the aggressor’s knee. He'd fallen forward and the surprise and practiced rage hadn't quite registered on his face before the pommel of Grayell's knife crashed into his temple. John fell with a slump into a quiet ugly puddle. Liz was pressed against the wall, shocked and trying to process just what had happened.
"Liz is it?"
.
Her eyes found his and she straightened herself up. Cleared her throat.
"Yes. Yes it is." Startled, but regaining composure quickly. She rubbed her reddened throat.
"Liz. I need you to have him taken care of, do you think you can do that?" said Grayell. His voice was warmer, ever so slightly, but it conveyed that he had no interest in further dramatics. His fingers unwound a coin purse from his jacket and he withdrew a few - chink - chink - chink. Her eyes were drawn to the motion.
"Yes. Yes Sir. That I can."
"Thank you Liz. Here. You can have the suite. You get some rest." he said now with a subtle smile. He stepped wholly over the unconscious oaf between them and pressed the coins into her palm, then folded her fingers over them securely.
"I'll take your room for a night or two - if that's fine with you, of course? In case our friend has a habit of making poor decisions. Any questions, tell them to speak to Jakob." The words were warm and reasonable. He held her hand a moment longer until her expression indicated she had caught up. She beamed a smile in reply, nodded and then turned, pocketing her change and heading for the stairs. Grayell collected his rucksack and eyed the doors in the hallway. The one beside the commotion sounded quiet.
He carefully pried it open and was met with the same fragrance that Liz wore. It was furnished in a somewhat homely - but with an attempt at flamboyance - manner. A stool by a dresser was broken and laid in pieces behind the door. Some scattered possessions. A broken mirror.
He tossed his pack at the foot of the bed, then turned and slumped onto it, sitting by the window. Here, he had a view of the bay. The day was almost done, the sun on the horizon burned like wildfire on what were calm waters.
And there - just on the other side of the window, sat a deliberate green feather.
So soon.
(Just solo musings, working out the kinks. Let me know what you think.)
He pushed the tankard aside with the back of his hand, looked down the bar at faces he didn't know and grunted. He got to his feet, groaning. Age and resentment made everything here, every damn thing, too bloody hard. The barkeep approached. He didn't know them.
"All done sirrah?"
"Yup. Accomodation?"
"We've two rooms free this day sirrah, our best room overlooking the bay and well, something less desirable. But it will suffice if you've not got the coin."
Huh. He did indeed. The coin. A funny thing. Hell with it, he'd likely drink his real funds before he was on a new tide. He pried it from a pocket and placed it on the bartop - gingerly - hesitantly. The barkeep he didn't know took it up with a somemwhat befuddled expression and held it to the light. It took a moment and then there it was, something sparked on his face and he looked a little apologetic.
"Ahhhh, just one moment?" he stammered. For the tiniest moment, it seemed he didn't know just which way to go. But he wasn't green and a moment later, walked into the back beyond view. Grayell looked about a little; he didn't face the room. No one he knew. Or recalled at least. The smell here was about as pleasant as the ale but in a like manner, it was familiar and of what's more, it was a change from life on the sea. Hmmm. Maybe a new ship? A boat even? Something small - different- maybe he'd stop his...
"Right sirrah, no charge for you as I'm sure you know. I do apologise, it's been a good while I wager since anyone has seen one of these. I'll know better in the future."
Grayell nodded, permitted a subtle but courteous smile to show his grattitude and tossed the keep a proper coin, which the keep snatched from the air with practiced ease.
"Thank you sirrah! Should you need of anything, the name is Jakob, you just say the word!"
Grayell was at the stairs already, but lazily waved to acknowledge the gesture. His ruck slung on his shoulder, his boot fell on the first step. Damn if this wasn't all too familiar. Another sigh before he wound his way up to the floor that hosted the quarters. The atmosphere changed.
Here, the scent was altered. Incense. Cheap perfume. Nerves. There was whatever ruckus occurred below intermingled with giggles, most insincere. Grunting. An argument. There. He made his way down the dimly lit hallway toward the 'luxury' suite but ahead - and almost in his way - one of the girls and someone (likely of little consequence) were arguing. Money? Payment. It didn't seem inordinary. He paid it no heed. The john did, however.
"Oi old man, whatchulookinat, eh?" challenged John. He was a large lad, rough around the edges. Scars. He smoked. His right shoulder gave him grief, likely an accident borne of hard work.
Grayell did little beyond acknowledge him by lowering his gaze and kept walking, closer to the wall now. Dickheads were in plenty supply and he'd decided he'd like to at least make an attempt at sleep. This wasn't his tavern, this wasn't his problem and the girls here did this for a living. They knew how to handle themselves.
"That's better old man, you just scurry on now. Liz and I have something to settle, so you just wait your turn with your cock in your hand, like every other sailor who washes up here. Go on, fuck off." John's voice had a snarky challenge lurking in it, something he likely earned with a rough childhood. Still, if Grayell had a copper for every asshole with an overinflated sense of self in Wistvale... He passed behind them and made for the room. Eyes were on him as he walked by, then they struck up their bickering. A gasp. Struggle. Grayell had his hand on the door, it was just ajar when it all changed with a word. Her voice. Deprived of breath.
"Help."
The ruck slumped from his shoulder as he rubbed his eyes with finger and thumb. He wasn't in the mood and what's more, he wanted to slip through Wistvale like a shadow. He'd no desire to have anyone talking. Even the stunt with the coin was stupid, but he hoped to get away with it. This, however, was a proper problem. His foot led and he turned back, his arms up, open. Disarming. Unthreatening. John had his pork pie hand clutched about her throat.
"Look mate, I'm sure you've paid for the time but the girl sets the limits. She's not into it, leave her be, yeah?" The words sounded reasonable. A plea. Not weak, unless he were out of practice. This wasn't the negotiation he was accustomed to on the sea. Less blood and black powder. Old mate was incensed by it though - Grayell could see his posture flare. He didn't let her go. Grayell's head dropped with yet another sigh and he paced closer.
"Fuck off idgit, or I've a mind to fuck you next." sneered the John, a slight chuckle on those words. He thought himself clever. He might have even meant it.
Grayell's hand settled gently on the man's shoulder.
"Friend. I'm sure whatever this squabble is, they can settle it amicably downstairs. Hell, how about I buy you a round? Let the girl go?" were the words, smooth as glass between tides. He meant it, plead even a little with that question. But he saw now the bruising on her side, where her blouse had been torn. It was both old and new, greens and yellows struck against purple and black. She was trembling. It came quick, but in that first motion, the brute at least let go of Liz.
John's right arm cocked back, Grayell was standing in his blind spot. His fist was bunched and flashed out to strike Grayell hard in the gut - but found nothing. It was his bad shoulder after all. Grayell had readily slipped further behind him and with what Liz would later try to recount as ease, slammed his boot into the back of the aggressor’s knee. He'd fallen forward and the surprise and practiced rage hadn't quite registered on his face before the pommel of Grayell's knife crashed into his temple. John fell with a slump into a quiet ugly puddle. Liz was pressed against the wall, shocked and trying to process just what had happened.
"Liz is it?"
.
Her eyes found his and she straightened herself up. Cleared her throat.
"Yes. Yes it is." Startled, but regaining composure quickly. She rubbed her reddened throat.
"Liz. I need you to have him taken care of, do you think you can do that?" said Grayell. His voice was warmer, ever so slightly, but it conveyed that he had no interest in further dramatics. His fingers unwound a coin purse from his jacket and he withdrew a few - chink - chink - chink. Her eyes were drawn to the motion.
"Yes. Yes Sir. That I can."
"Thank you Liz. Here. You can have the suite. You get some rest." he said now with a subtle smile. He stepped wholly over the unconscious oaf between them and pressed the coins into her palm, then folded her fingers over them securely.
"I'll take your room for a night or two - if that's fine with you, of course? In case our friend has a habit of making poor decisions. Any questions, tell them to speak to Jakob." The words were warm and reasonable. He held her hand a moment longer until her expression indicated she had caught up. She beamed a smile in reply, nodded and then turned, pocketing her change and heading for the stairs. Grayell collected his rucksack and eyed the doors in the hallway. The one beside the commotion sounded quiet.
He carefully pried it open and was met with the same fragrance that Liz wore. It was furnished in a somewhat homely - but with an attempt at flamboyance - manner. A stool by a dresser was broken and laid in pieces behind the door. Some scattered possessions. A broken mirror.
He tossed his pack at the foot of the bed, then turned and slumped onto it, sitting by the window. Here, he had a view of the bay. The day was almost done, the sun on the horizon burned like wildfire on what were calm waters.
And there - just on the other side of the window, sat a deliberate green feather.
So soon.
(Just solo musings, working out the kinks. Let me know what you think.)