SIMBA VAVRA. (urbeth) wrote in missions, @ 2012-07-11 14:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! narrative, venka vavra |
narrative.
WHO: Venka Vavra, mentions of Aerith and an NPC cadet.
WHAT: Quake 2.0: The Reckoning.
WHEN: Backdated to the 10th, late evening, after the tournament.
WHERE: Seventh Heaven
RATING: PG. Aerith, you can’t even be mad, he didn’t swear once.
Venka was used to grunt work. For fourteen years he had helped his mother in her pie shop. He knew about stacking dishes, carrying plates, throwing out garbage and restocking things. Working at Seventh Heaven wasn’t so different.
Venka was used to doing things on his own. Carrying racks of glasses that we too heavy for him, doing more than his fair share. He was the only busboy, and that meant that all the busing duties of the waitresses and bartenders were now his. He didn’t mind. He didn’t mind his peers seeing him work, because his peers didn’t matter. What mattered was cold, hard gil. And now it was going to come in regularly. That’s all Venka could ask for.
It was only Venka’s third shift when a swarm of happy, boisterous cadets came into the pub. Balamb Zeros had apparently won their tournament, and a huge group of people appeared to be intent on celebrating, and celebrating drunkenly. Venka was also used to drunk people, so the entire scenario was nothing new.
After two hours, he caught the sound of Aerith’s voice over the din. Polite, but firm. Through the crowd, Venka spotted a tall, muscular cadet leaning in close over the bar, swaying slightly, his thick frame like a tree in the wind. Venka scowled, but kept working. Aerith could take care of herself. He left them alone.
Until the cadet reached out a hand, grabbing Aerith by the wrist.
There was a loud CRASH when Venka let the rack of glasses he was carrying drop to the floor, and the pub went quiet. Not silent, but quiet. Someone whistled and started to clap, but Venka ignored them.
“Leave her alone.” It was an undeniable growl, Venka’s deep voice carrying across the bar easily. He had forgone his usual hunch and was now at his full height, leaning forward aggressively. The hush was back-- whomever had whistled and clapped was obviously more interested in drama than making fun of the sorcerer now.
The cadet laughed. “Or what? What will you do? Throw a glass at me?” Obviously unimpressed, the cadet seemed to have taken Venka for some townie, a young man earning a living at the pub. In the garden, but not of the garden. He was very wrong.
“Leave. Her. Alone.” Venka said again, fire in his eyes. His tone was different, so different than his typical teenaged mumble. It was the voice of a man, and a man to be reckoned with. But the cadet, his blood full of booze, wasn’t having it.
“Listen, you snotnosed, brat-” The cadet began, reaching for the dagger at his side, taking a few steps forward before stopping. Something was happening.
There was a low rumble. The tables and chairs, occupied or empty, began to rattle and shake. The windows rattled in their frames, and shelved glasses tinkled and shook, a few falling, crashing to the floor, the tinkling of the glass filling the room. It was if the earth below the pub was changing, like water reaching a slow boil. People in the pub began to react, some looking confused, some panicking and crying out, trying to keep beverages from tipping and spilling. Venka alone maintained the same stance and stare, his eyes never leaving the cadet who had grabbed Aerith.
Venka smiled, his eyes green eyes dark. It wasn’t sweet, bashful or charming. It was villainous, the kind of smile that told whomever it was for that they were in deep fucking trouble. Venka clenched his fists and the rumbling became stronger, but nothing broke, went too far. This was nothing like the quake spell that had cracked the garden quad. He was angry, but Venka felt good For once in his life, Venka was in control.
“Venka!” Aerith’s voice. Chastising and afraid at the same time. Venka let his eyes flicker from the meathead cadet to Aerith for half a second, and suddenly, everything was still. If it weren’t for a few broken glasses and spilled drinks, there would be no evidence that Venka had done anything at all.
All eyes were on Venka, including the cadet’s. Venka jerked his head toward the door. “Get out.”
The cadet’s face contorted and he hesitated, before stalking angrily out of the pub. Venka watched him go, his eyes never leaving the other man until the door closed behind him. He then afforded Aerith a brief glance, before kneeling, picking up the glasses he had dropped on the floor.
As if nothing had happened at all.