Nathaniel nodded, it had been going on twenty years since the atrocities that his father committed, and there were days he felt like it was yesterday. How could his family name ever recover from the murder of helpless women and children. He wasn’t sure, but then he wasn’t going to go into details either, but in a way it felt good knowing that at the very least this man probably didn’t remember the events from the fifth blight, so he didn’t blame Nathaniel for anything.
Well, if it’s a ruckus you want, perhaps we need another round! Or five! I think I have enough for keg. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen! It’s Kirkwall after all! He said, he could use the chance to blow off some steam, truth be told.
[color=#c14700]“... Don’t threaten me with a good time, now.”[/color] The bard would chuckle loudly. Ah. What could go wrong in a City that was hell bent on imploding in on itself? This city had little in terms of stability, neigh, its very reputation was that it was constantly in some crisis. Still, Frank played up, feigning hurt, that he’d do such things.[color=#c14700] “Rukus? Me? Never.... Well, perhaps a little.” [/color]
He’d need little encouragement. Hands deftly taking back up his instrument to begin a playful and uplifting jig. [color=#c14700]“C’mon, C’mon! We need some singers!”[/color] He’d rouse, voice becoming melodic as the cheeky tune came flowing from his lips. He’d work the room, encouraging and teasing other patrons out to carry the tune enough that he could pause to take a gulp or two of his ale. [color=#c14700]“We need to get the warden singing, c’mon, take the next song my friend!” [/color]
Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps Nathaniel just really needed to blow off steam, maybe it was all of the above, but he was really starting to feel the moment and let himself just relax and go a little bit. Frankie was an interesting influence on the warden, he felt a bit more like his old self, back long ago when he’d led a much more carefree life in Starkhaven, with his friends and the woman he’d once loved.
OK, but if we scare off tavern patrons, it’s on you! He said jokingly, his voice wasn’t THAT bad, sure it wasn’t refined with years of practise, but he had a decent singing voice that balanced somewhere between tenor and bass. He joined in on the next song, one he was actually really familiar with, once upon a time. It felt good to forget about his worries for a bit and just let loose. He was having so much fun he could almost forget he was a grey warden for a few moments. There was a part of him that didn’t want this moment to ever end.
Commanding an audience had never been an issue it seemed. Rousing the patrons of the tavern had been childsplay. While it had taken a few rounds to engage the warden, he was convinced to join in the fray of bastardising some Ferelden ballad. Frankie would shake his head, best he could with the violin in hand. [color=#c14700]“I positively will not allow such a thing!”[/color] Truthfully, the warden’s voice was the best among the bunch, unless the bard himself accompanied in places. The place had regained its missing essence as song and laughter rang through the air.
As Frank smiled to himself, he’d find his eyes searching for someone. He’d no idea who, only that if he found them among the crowd he’d know them. Their identity would resonate with some chord within him and finally, someone would know him. Yet, painfully again, it was not to be. Not a face among them rang any bell, lift any fog from his mind about who they were and who he was.
He’d let another musician take the lead, reaching but swaying some, to take a deep and long draw of his pint.
Nathaniel wasn’t sure the last time he had this much fun. Not that he never had any fun with the wardens, but a life of servitude forced on him nearly twenty years earlier, wasn’t a life that offered up a lot of fun. Though with some of the other Ferelden wardens he definitely couldn’t say life was dull either, but he wouldn’t always consider it fun.
When the last round of singing came to an end, Nathaniel threw himself into a pint of ale, his throat parched from the singing. Perhaps he should feel guilty for having fun while Ferelden went little by little up shit’s creek, but he figured he wasn’t good to anyone if he wasn’t at the top of his game, and he could definitely use the rest and relaxation for a bit. Besides, what was a few hours going to do in the long run, wasn’t like he was going to single handedly defeat the blight in that time.
He drank down the pint in record time and grinned at his new found friend.
Ya know, you, this, it’s definitely a distraction that was much needed my friend. If only I could stay in this moment indefinitely. He rather missed the Free Marches, he thought about maybe transferring once the blight was over, IF they blight was ever over. He owed Lana a lot, but it wasn’t a decision he could make lightly because it would also mean giving up his position with the Aerial Protectorate.
Life was infinitely more interesting while one was alive. Frank could argue that making the most of one's misfortunes was downright obvious with his circumstances. No memory of who or what he was, no direction, but where the music and blind faith led him. Some could call it freedom, being unbound, holding no ties, or at least not remembering them. A new life. While he knew little, Frank understood this about himself. That there was something, someone important that he needed to get back to.
His absence returned as he felt the warden draw alongside, downing a pint to quench his singing voice. Frank chuckled lightly, lifting his own mug a fraction in a small toast. The younger man seemed more relaxed now a few pints in, less tense about the looming threat of the screeching hordes of darkspawn. [color=#c14700]“I don’t think fighting the ilk, shit-faced, is a wise move. How’s your aim? Actually, no. Don’t. We’ll certainly be tossed out for that.” [/color]
Nathaniel practically doubled over with laughter at the mental image of taking out his bow and practising his aim at the moment inside the tavern. Maybe he could try hitting an apple off someone’s head. Once upon a time, in another life in the Free Marches, he’d actually done that with some of his friends, back when they were young and dumb without a care in the world beyond what they’d be doing the next evening.
It’s probably a good thing I left my bow with Glacaus, but I mean it could be fun. We could see what the barkeep has for fruit, get some volunteers to shoot it off their heads, maybe even take bets and really get the crowd involved! It would really be like old times, except none of his Free March friends were there, but Frankie was proving to be a more than adequate substitute.
It was curious. Frankie knew how to enjoy himself, but the recollection of past events was smeared, details mottled by shadows and incomplete faces. Unending familiarity with things, people, places flooded his mind regularly, yet no clarity came. Inebriated, it was easy to enjoy oneself. In a stupor he could quite literally forget every pain, though the emptiness that permeated his being urged him to remain somewhat sharp. Performing would keep his imbuing of the ale at a steadier pace than his Warden companion. Hopeful enough to dissuade the man from brandishing any sharp pointy things that could end up in far squishier places.
[color=#c14700]“Quite,”[/color] Frank would agree, chuckling dryly as he leaned against the bar. His mood had dipped, but he kept the front of a contented man firmly in place. [color=#c14700]“I don’t think the locals would much like it either… it is Kirkwall after all.”[/color] Its reputation for an active back alley throat cutting scene was a pleasure he’d rather avoid. [color=#c14700]“I’d instead… encourage you to put your focus on the little redheaded thing that’s been eyeing you,”[/color] he’d snickering into his mug. Brows wiggling off in the lasses direction. He may as well help the lad get his wick wet.
Nathaniel suddenly decided to switch to shots as he finished another pint. Probably not the best idea, but he was having fun and wasn’t thinking about limits or responsibilities. For once, in a rather long time, it was just about him and his new friend. Nothing else holding him back at the moment. Sure there was a blight going on that he had to get back to, but he wasn’t going to travel through the night any way. Not to mention the fact that it had looked like possible rain and the last thing he wanted was to be on Glacaus up in the sky when a rain storm hit.
He laughed about the locals not liking it much. It reminded him a lot of his younger days, when his group of friends would go on a long excursion to Kirkwall just to cause mischief and let loose. They hadn’t done it much, usually responsibilities had kept them in Starkhaven, but they still made for good memories that he liked to think back on. He took another shot.
When his friend mentioned the red head, Nathaniel practically spit out the shot he had just taken, finally noticing the red head for the first time. He smiled sheepishly, feeling foolish for having made such a mess. Well, not a huge mess, but he had to reach for a rag and wipe off his mouth.
Oh uh, yea she’s pretty cute. OK, she was more than cute, she was positively heavenly compared to some of the patrons around them. The problem was, she reminded him too heavily of a certain ex-fiancé he’d left all those years ago when he’d gone off to try and take back some of his family heirlooms from the Grey Wardens, never expecting he wouldn’t make it back home to her. Of course, that wasn’t the only place his brain went, he also started thinking about how much that he had had to drink. If he did try to hit on her and get anywhere, would he even be able to uh, stand to attention for longer than five minutes.
Ha, my luck, I end up hitting things off and then reward her by passing out on her. Fuck, that would be embarrassing, the last thing his ego needed, but then he also couldn’t stop thinking about the kernel that Frankie had placed in his brain.
Frank nearly copied the lad but caught himself managing to swallow down his sip before chuckling heartily. [color=#c14700]“Clean up lad. There are ladies present,” [/color]he’d chide gently, head shaking and helping get a rag from the barman to clean off the spittle of sprayed alcohol. Beginning with himself, of course. A grin firmly sat across his fact though, unfazed by the action since the girl was the prettiest thing in the tavern.
Yet it seemed Nate had drunk his fill and the effects were beginning to weigh in. Frank didn’t need his memories to understand what was happening. The paling complexion, the lag in attention.. He’d reached his limit some moments ago, or was being plagued by some past indiscretion, the bard assumed.
Leaning over, Frank would place a hand on his shoulder, [color=#c14700]“C’mon, time for a sit down. You’ve earned it. I’m sure Picken’s here,”[/color] gesturing back to the barman, [color=#c14700]“doesn’t want to have to scoop you off the flagstones.” [/color]
Once getting the lad comfortable, he’d meander around to the lass quietly muttering to her a few half-truths. He’d even spare her a few gold coins since her attention was genuine. Perhaps her doting in the morning, as he suffered, would spark something, who knew?
Nathaniel nodded in agreement at Frankie’s words, and pushed back the last shot he’d ordered that he hadn’t drunk yet. It was time to wind down, as much as the idea of flirting with someone didn’t terrify him at the moment, he also wasn’t about to make a fool of himself by trying to flirt with someone at the moment.
A nice little cosy corner was found, and a glass of water for rehydration, though he wasn’t sure if he trusted the water of Kirkwall, especially that of the tavern they were in, but if he didn’t hydrate he also knew what the next morning would mean. A hangover was one thing, but a hangover while also dehydrated would be a nightmare and he knew it.
There was a part of him that thought about leaving the tavern, but it was late and although Glacaus knew the way home, he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk passing out while flying on his Griffon. Before Frankie left him to recover, Nathaniel couldn’t help but impart some closing words to the man.
Ya know, you’re a good man, I’m sure someone somewhere is missing you. Did he mean it? Probably, but he was also feeling very touchy feely with the stage of drunk he was at, and felt like just saying goodbye to the man who he had bonded with, was too impersonal. Soon he was snoring away in the corner and eventually the barkeep would help the very inebriated grey warden to a room.
