Dizarak Sanar

Worthless Worry

The large chiseled bartender stood propped against the old wood of the counter top, a damp rag clutched in his hand and his arms folded across his chest, his pale steely blue eyes watching the others as they went about serving the few patrons the inn was entertaining for the night. Slipping his tongue from his mouth he pulled the worn silver ring on his lip inward between his teeth, a motion he rarely even thought about after all this time. 

His long deep green and black hair was, per the usual, pulled back into a high styled pony-tail, the long void tendril sprouting from his head enveloped in the very same way, his two shorter tendrils rested with the similarly long hairs at the back of his neck. Two long wavy strands sat at the front of his ears and trailed down to his pecks. 

Swiveling his head he checked the hour, "Almost time" he thought to himself. With ease he pushed his weight off the bar top and quickly wiped down the surface his ass end had been resting on before tossing the damp rag into the soapy water bucket behind the bar. Dizarak pulled the corner of his tabard up and dried his hands of the remaining dampness before turning to the other barkeep with him at the back bar.

"Stepping out," he spoke in a deep smooth voice, slipping a cigarette from behind his ear and placing its end in his mouth opposite of the loop in his lip.

Once outside Diz settled down on a crate he had placed there for just this purpose, its position pointed at the tavern's mailbox. Slipping a lighter from his belt the void touched elf settled in to enjoy his vice and wait for the postal worker.

After a few moment's they arrived through a portal, almost like clockwork on the hour, a stack of letters and various other things held in their hands, they blinked at the imposing figure a moment before stopping to shuffle through the assortment. The postal worker had witnessed the brief glances of hope at their arrival for several days from the elf and each day they were met with silent stoic, possibly disappointed disapproval when nothing in their hands was for him.

The worker paused, peering up to meet the large man's gaze before slowly nodding at him, "I'm betting this is what you're waiting on?" they said holding out a letter that's envelope clearly indicated where it had come from, the edges dirty and stained and the handwriting barely visible.

Dizarak stood quickly and held out a hand for it, the cigarette tucked in his lip still as he moved. Stone cold faced he glanced down at the letter before holding his other hand out for the rest, "I can take those in to the others."

Hesitantly the postal mage handed the stack over and vanished through another portal, their eyes trained on his back as he padded back through the Tavern's doorway.

Dizarak flicked the butt of his spent vice stick onto the ground and ground it in before finishing his entry to the establishment, placing the stack of mail on the front bar top without a second glance.

Once upstairs and hopefully out of sight, he leaned against a wall and tore open the envelope,

Brother,

Your worrying is pointless and undesired. Your limited emotions are better wasted elsewhere. To answer your request I am alive. For now.

Zaravala

Diz slumped against the wall, the blood and soot stained parchment held between his hands, he reread it over and over. "She's alive. Thank fuck shes alive...." his mind reeled inwardly. His large frame slid down the length of the wall and he tucked his head against his knees the letter trapped between his forehead and his hands. Though her other words stung with the might of a poisoned dagger, those three words looped on endless repeat in his mind.

"I am alive."

Mentions @zaravala