Fortune favors the wise, and there was nothing wise about stepping into trouble. As the heavy wooden door swings shut behind him, Jareth gets splashed with an air of spilled ale, sweat, and the hum of low conversation. Dim light flickered from a few hanging lanterns, casting long shadows across the crowded room. He gazes over the place, lingering on the flicker of dice tumbling across scarred wooden tables, coins clinking in greedy hands. Shadows clung to roughened faces, eyes darting to cards and wagers with fevered intensity. Amid the murmur of low voices and the scrape of chairs, no one lifted their head, too consumed by their own vices to notice another set of footsteps crossing the threshold.
He hesitated, adjusting the hem of his cloak as he continued to scan the room. His fingers brushed the note in his pocket, crumpled from being read and re-read as if it would suddenly make sense. But no. There was no hint of who sent it, no signature, nothing. He had encountered his share of scrawled, difficult-to-decipher tomes before, but this riddle, inked in jagged, hurried strokes. It offered no explanation, only a time and a vague hint of a promise of something worth his while.
Jareth moves further into the room, trying to shake off the unease crawling up his spine. He eased onto a worn barstool, the creaking of the seat barely audible. Leaning forward, he tapped the bar with a coin, drawing the attention of a tall and strong looking woman.
"What can I get you?" she asked, her voice sharp.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "You came to the Rogue's fortune for water? If that's what you want, you can throw yourself into the river!"
Jareth's mouth dropped slightly in alarm. He hadn’t intended to draw any attention.
"Coming right up," she interrupted, her tone softening as she turned to fetch his drink.
Jareth watched her go, her departure marked by a soft creak of the floor. He let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing as the tension eased from his posture.
He hesitated, adjusting the hem of his cloak as he continued to scan the room. His fingers brushed the note in his pocket, crumpled from being read and re-read as if it would suddenly make sense. But no. There was no hint of who sent it, no signature, nothing. He had encountered his share of scrawled, difficult-to-decipher tomes before, but this riddle, inked in jagged, hurried strokes. It offered no explanation, only a time and a vague hint of a promise of something worth his while.
Why here of all places?he muttered under his breath, his lips curling down. The clamor of dice rattling across worn tables and the uproarious laughter that spilled from shadowy corners clashed with the silent order he was accustomed to. This wasn’t the measured calm of a Circle meeting hall or the hushed reverence of a grand library. This was a den of chaos, and trickery , where often coin decided who held power.
Well,Jareth sighed, glancing around once more with a raised brow,
might as well try and get comfortable…
Jareth moves further into the room, trying to shake off the unease crawling up his spine. He eased onto a worn barstool, the creaking of the seat barely audible. Leaning forward, he tapped the bar with a coin, drawing the attention of a tall and strong looking woman.
"What can I get you?" she asked, her voice sharp.
Um— a bit of water is fine,Jareth replied, his discomfort evident.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "You came to the Rogue's fortune for water? If that's what you want, you can throw yourself into the river!"
Jareth's mouth dropped slightly in alarm. He hadn’t intended to draw any attention.
I'll take whatever you recommend,he said quickly,
just—
"Coming right up," she interrupted, her tone softening as she turned to fetch his drink.
Jareth watched her go, her departure marked by a soft creak of the floor. He let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing as the tension eased from his posture.
09-11-2024, 12:22 PM
