Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-04-01 09:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !thread, arielle chiaro, aspel cassul |
These nights we spend in hopes to bring ourselves to faith again.
Who: Aspel and Ari
What: Drinks to those forgotten.
Where: Pub in the Theater District
When: Backdated: Four-ish months ago.
Rating: PG
Status: Complete.
It seemed almost as if this day would not end from the moment she awoke in a cold sweat to the time when the 'closed' sign was re-hung upon The Armory's front door. Only briefly was a thought of attending her local haunt entertained before being dismissed. No, this day, this night, would call for something else altogether. A different form of distraction would be ideal and if there was anywhere to obtain such a thing, it would be near the theater district. Clearly, it would be too late to catch a proper show, which was a pity, but it would not deter the artists, performers and musicians from making merry amongst the many mead laden halls of the pubs and bars that lingered the streets of their districts. Additionally, it was doubtful she'd be as readily recognized there, and even if she was, it would not be by the same class or type of citizen that Apsel was so commonly accustomed to interacting with. While her history bode her to be a Knight, in her heart, the moral responsibilities that came with that never quite fit. Her whole life remained much of a round peg attempting to be shoved into a square hole. Since coming to Emillion, the pressure had been alleviated to some degree, but not released. Every day felt like it was bringing her one step closer to some ticking time bomb that she'd never been able to label. What it would be, when it would come... It was all still a mystery that left a bit of anxiety lodged deep within her very core. Click. The key turned back, being removed from the lock of the forge's front door and was roughly shoved back into her pocket. Her body felt heavy, but the pull of limbs wanting to rest was barely a burden in comparison to the weight lingering in her heart. Strings of the cloak Aspel had decided to wear were pulled tight, the cloth draping down over her shoulders and obscuring the sheathed sword that hung at her side. It still felt odd to carry something of this shape and size. Hammer's felt so much more natural and allowed... A shake of her head was given with a heavy exhale of air. The shackles of her own prison would continue to be thrown off for as long as she could manage. Someday, a time would come when Aspel would be required to pay for her crimes, confess her sins and let judgment be made upon her for those transgressions. If she was to live on borrowed time, then she may as well enjoy what she could gain from it. With that, her way was made easily down familiar city streets until the smith's eyes were greeted with the pleasing sight of one of the Theater district bars. Surely, this could be a good night if she just let go of what held her insides caged. Pushing through the doors was easy and the merriment inside caused a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. It seemed performers always lived in a world of joy, of celebration. Maybe she'd been wrong when she'd thrown off the life of a dancer but at the same time, Aspel could not view her life any other way. Finding a stool by the bar, the cords of the cloak were pulled at, releasing it from her shoulders, being laid over her stool before she sat. A hand waved to the bartender, attempting to catch the man's attention. The only way to join the merriment properly would be with drink in hand. |