He wasn’t really known as whimsical. He knew he wasn’t seen as a sourpus, but he tended to stay in the background, rather than the type of person found dancing up on the bar. Ren wasn’t a stick in the mud, he hoped!, but neither was he usually the life of the party.
The new Menagerie vendor had been nice, and he’d bought a window-kit for a plant--starlily. He’d eyed over the menu and the elixirs she’d offered. Various playful potions that changed the way you perceived flavors made him smile.
Still. Everyone standing around and twiddling their thumbs was definitely not his pace either. The Menagerie had been quiet, but there were still the vendors, himself, and Junarra there. Why not have a little fun and get to know...
He blinked, squinting and tilting his head up. Rain. He couldn’t help grinning. He really enjoyed rain. He had not expected it here, at Brewfest, in Durotar, which was a desert. Silvermoon got it in controlled, scheduled showers the magistry allowed. This was at the call of a shaman and her elemental allies. She was dancing, calling the other troll shamans she was reveling with.
That was a great idea.
“Hey, Trisandrah, come here. Lets dance.” He offered his hand dramatically. It was a night for ridiculous flights of fancy. First the potions that made everything taste sweet (thank the gods he’d gotten that one!) and the roulette at the Menagerie. Now he wanted to dance with her in this magical rainshower. They’d drunk...
He was a mage. He could go wherever his skills could get him. They’d gotten him pretty high, this time. The wind was cool from the sea. His hands were on his knees and he caught his breath through his triumphant smile. He was going to be victorious in this game of Murlocs and Mages. He just knew it. They’d never find him here.
A bird looked at him. He grinned back. Then down the wall. It was a long way down. The bird dropped off its perch and spiraled in a glide down, down, down then up and away into the sky. He nearly whooped outloud, but then caught himself. He needed a few more minutes to make sure the other kids were found first.
Renrael stood up and stretched his back. He bounced a few times, shaking out the fatigue in his...
Ren sat there, frozen on the bed, listening for the bite of the whispers from the bathroom. Maybe she was typing? Or maybe just speaking so hushed he couldn't hear.
Trisandrah had fled there to talk to someone. Talking to them now. After he'd just admitted he wanted more than her casual affection. He wanted to be something with her, not a coincidence, not a pleasant convenience. It was foolish. He'd known it was likely to end it all, but the not knowing was driving him crazy.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and swung his legs over the bed. His eyes found his clothes, tossed across the room in a heap. Well, he'd known this wasn't likely to go the way he wanted. Couldn't even say the word 'dating' around her without her getting hedgey...
"I don't think she qualifies as a 'visitor' anymore if she comes over more than once a month, Ren."
"Shut it, Ian. She does."
"You look ridiculous. She's been here before, you know."
"At least pick up your dishes from lunch. Put them in the sink at the very least." Ren threw his cousin a glare over his shoulder as he wiped down the table.
Ian pointedly leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the tabletop with a thick thunk. His hands folded behind his head and he pushed the chair to wobble back onto its legs. When Ren turned around to take said lunch dishes to the sink, Ian toed the salt shaker over--just to be a dick.
Ren heard it, and the sprinkle of the granules hit, but he held his tongue. But if looks could kill... Ian gave his...
Renrael was pleased with the tree. It wasn't a paper flower; he was branching out with his papercraft. The little winter veil tree was made from newspaper he'd cut out, and a book of old music that had been long since ruined by weather and age.
It wasn't really that impressive, but he thought it was endearing, and he hoped his giftee in the work exchange would like it. He hadn't been around the tavern as much as previously; things were still slightly awkward at times, which was unfortunate. He did his morning shifts a few times a week, he smiled and had an ale in the great room a couple of nights a week. But mostly he was still seen as the man that read the paper and kept to himself. Hopefully they knew him to have an easy smile,...
Shut everything else down. Focus. Get up. Get out. Running over and through ruins. Lightning crackled continuously. Ozone and static teased his senses and he lived. Puddles splashed like laughter and he grinned with the chase. Adrenaline, mystery, exploration, treasure… Good company that knew. It felt good
Did he have a sign on his back? ‘Yank me around, I like it’? Wasn’t worth it. Ren smoothed the scowl off his face. No questions and no answers. No one to care. His own fault. The life he’d cultivated. Careful.
How many knew his name?… Sunsworn most likely. Their relationship was like that.
His back pressed into the trunk, the bark bit through cotton to scrape his back. The label was teased off the bottle intact, then stacked with the others. He'd be sure to clean up; kids shouldn't see this. Refuge from memories and sulky aching. Wasn’t like him.
The Dwarven nesting doll smiled cheerfully up at him with what he imagined was barely held laughter. He hadn’t met many dwarves in his life, but he hoped he might meet someone with her outlook soon. Renrael felt his own grin ruck to the side in answer to her.
He always spoke Common to her. “How long you gonna stay on my nightstand this time, yeah? Very cosmopolitan, aren’t ya? Whisking away around the world. Probably been through more portals than I ever will. Probably seen a LOT; I know who’s pocket you usually sit in. Your courtier will be back for you, soon, I’m sure.” He winked and his fingernail tapped against her in a playful cuff; he was careful not to tip her over. He stood up and his eyes drifted over the other...
(( This entry has been easily cross-posted to tumblr directly from https://chardiary.com -- check it out for more stories and RP events! ))
"This is about girl, isn't it? ... This is about that girl, isn't it?"
Ren tossed the bag of toiletries on top of the clothes. He managed not to grind his teeth as he flipped the cover. The buckles made pleasant brassy noises as he worked on them. He yanked them snug before finally replying. "Yeah. It is."
His cousin tipped up his beer. Renrael kept packing. Without taking his eyes off the wall--the wall with hundreds upon hundreds of push pin holes--the other man grunted before questioning, "You sure you need to go to Tol fucking Barad?"
"Where the hell you been?” The door wasn’t even fully open before his cousin’s voice hit him.
Renrael grit his teeth and dropped
his camping pack just inside the door. He shrugged out of his his jacket
and tossed it onto the waiting chair. If it happened to hit said
cousin, Renrael didn’t mind.
“Out. Had a date.”
“Another one? Better not be a fucking guard again. Over night, too. You must really like this one.”
“Different girl. And we didn’t sleep
together. I didn’t sleep with either of them.” He turned to face the
other man, taking in his slumped posture, the rumpled shirt, and the
beer bottle in his hand. “You owe me for all these beers. And the silver
you took two weeks ago. I didn’t forget, I...
Except for hundreds
of tiny pushpin holes covering the largest of them, the apartment walls
were bare. Instead, the dozens of pieces of paper recently rescued were
strewn over a cramped dining table. The three young men sat at lazy,
insolent angles around the mess of maps, schedules, and schematics.
dry rustle of paper attempted to fill the silence as a calloused hand
shoved angrily across the table. “Seriously, Ren? A guard? Fel, man. And
she’s been fucking ARRESTED?!”
The words had been repeated frequently, in one way or...