His eyes flicked around the tavern, the steady hum of voices and clinking glasses dulling his senses. Even the poor of sight would notice how this man did not belong. Shoulders dropped, exhaling soon after but not of relief, of tiredness. The energy of it all seemed like too much for him, not used to the noise and crowd. He shifted in his seat, feeling the weight of his own body pressing down.
As he let his guard drop, something stirred in the corner of his eye. A shadow peeled away, almost unnoticed except for a slight shift in the tavern’s atmosphere. Jareth’s eyes narrowed as Ailwin appeared, his presence barely making a sound. Instinctively, Jareth's muscles tensed, his fingers twitching as if ready to summon a barrier at the slightest provocation.
Jareth didn’t acknowledge him at first, his focus sharpening on the strange, deliberate nature of the encounter. The drink placed before him—a dark amber liquid—caught his attention for only a second before his mind returned to the man at his side.
The mage's eyes remained forward, though his posture shifted slightly, his body still and controlled. He didn’t reach for the drink. Instead, he considered the stranger’s tone, the careful way he seemed to test the waters, as if gauging how much Jareth knew or didn’t know. He didn’t trust him, why should he?
Ailwin’s smirk barely registered with Jareth; he was more focused on the undercurrents of the conversation. He wasn’t here to make friends, and whoever had sent for him clearly wanted something more than just a pleasant chat. Why would anyone summon a mage if it's not for trouble?
Jareth finally turned his gaze toward him, meeting his eyes with cold precision.
The tavern’s noise swelled around them, but for Jareth, the world had narrowed down to the figure beside him and the unanswered questions squeezing his throat.
As he let his guard drop, something stirred in the corner of his eye. A shadow peeled away, almost unnoticed except for a slight shift in the tavern’s atmosphere. Jareth’s eyes narrowed as Ailwin appeared, his presence barely making a sound. Instinctively, Jareth's muscles tensed, his fingers twitching as if ready to summon a barrier at the slightest provocation.
Jareth didn’t acknowledge him at first, his focus sharpening on the strange, deliberate nature of the encounter. The drink placed before him—a dark amber liquid—caught his attention for only a second before his mind returned to the man at his side.
The mage's eyes remained forward, though his posture shifted slightly, his body still and controlled. He didn’t reach for the drink. Instead, he considered the stranger’s tone, the careful way he seemed to test the waters, as if gauging how much Jareth knew or didn’t know. He didn’t trust him, why should he?
I didn’t come for drinks,Jareth replied impassively, his voice edged with impatience.
Ailwin’s smirk barely registered with Jareth; he was more focused on the undercurrents of the conversation. He wasn’t here to make friends, and whoever had sent for him clearly wanted something more than just a pleasant chat. Why would anyone summon a mage if it's not for trouble?
Jareth finally turned his gaze toward him, meeting his eyes with cold precision.
The one and the same,He replied to the man, his tone flat, uninviting.
I wish I could say the same,he muttered, though his tone made it clear he had no such desire."
Now tell me why I’m here.He spoke soon after tossing the peculiar letter he had received, the inked parchment sliding briefly toward the elf.
The tavern’s noise swelled around them, but for Jareth, the world had narrowed down to the figure beside him and the unanswered questions squeezing his throat.
10-01-2024, 09:26 AM
