One is the loneliest number [open]
Sept 14, 2023 16:38:33 GMT -5
Post by Vibe King on Sept 14, 2023 16:38:33 GMT -5
Ah, The Brass Dragon, the regular home away from home for many manner of folks who dwell within Sol City. Famous for its impressive size, boasting a three story structure with an interior adorned with deep velvet reds and trimmed gold furniture and low lit lanterns whos soft glow reflects off of the brass walls giving the whole tavern a welcoming glow at all hours of the day. Due to this, the tavern is always bustling and busy with groups of adventurers, merchants, farmers and even sometimes the cities guard will stop for a moment of rejuvenating hospitality before returning to their duties.
On one such day, as normal and benign as any other, the tavern was busy as usual with the kitchen and bar dishing out booze and hearty food as fast as they were being ordered. Tables were filled to the brim with plucky bright eyed people sharing stories and occasionally exploding into uproarious and joyful laughter that filled the tavern with an unbridled wholesome energy. Well that is except for one Giff sat to himself in a booth towards the back of the first floor. Alistair isn't quite used to drinking alone and yet with the ever present loneliness brought on by the loss of his adventuring party is actually slightly helped by being surrounded by those who are enjoying the simple things in life. After all being able to just look across the room and see the happy faces and rosy cheeks of a group of drunkards in the middle of a spat would be enough to get a chuckle out of just about anyone. Alistair expected to drink by his lonesome to drown out some of the sorrow he feels and yet in spite of that he feels inspired and mellowed out by the whole affair.
Looking down towards his fireball whiskey, the effervescent drink bubbling in his large tankard, Alistair decides that he needs to pull himself together and move on from his loss. But what should he do about it? It's not like he has many friends he can reach out to and the most he can seem to get out of the other people in the tavern is a friendly smile and a nod of acknowledgement but every time someone would acknowledge his presence he someway or another would be overwhelmed with nervousness and quickly avert his gaze back towards his drink.
"I wonder how it's possible that everyone in here seems to be friends with one another? How can they all find it so easy to just interact without overthinking it?" Alistair thought to himself whilst gingerly swishing the tankard. "It's not all bad though I suppose, at least I have a drink and a comfortable place to sit some people surely have it worse than I"
His focus would shift back and forth from the tavern to the table constantly flipping between anxiety and getting lost in spiraling thoughts and taking in the laughter and joy of everyone around him. However difficult the situation seemed Alistair retained hope that maybe someone in the tavern would join him at his table so that he may find some companionship akin to his fellow patrons of The Brass Dragon.
On one such day, as normal and benign as any other, the tavern was busy as usual with the kitchen and bar dishing out booze and hearty food as fast as they were being ordered. Tables were filled to the brim with plucky bright eyed people sharing stories and occasionally exploding into uproarious and joyful laughter that filled the tavern with an unbridled wholesome energy. Well that is except for one Giff sat to himself in a booth towards the back of the first floor. Alistair isn't quite used to drinking alone and yet with the ever present loneliness brought on by the loss of his adventuring party is actually slightly helped by being surrounded by those who are enjoying the simple things in life. After all being able to just look across the room and see the happy faces and rosy cheeks of a group of drunkards in the middle of a spat would be enough to get a chuckle out of just about anyone. Alistair expected to drink by his lonesome to drown out some of the sorrow he feels and yet in spite of that he feels inspired and mellowed out by the whole affair.
Looking down towards his fireball whiskey, the effervescent drink bubbling in his large tankard, Alistair decides that he needs to pull himself together and move on from his loss. But what should he do about it? It's not like he has many friends he can reach out to and the most he can seem to get out of the other people in the tavern is a friendly smile and a nod of acknowledgement but every time someone would acknowledge his presence he someway or another would be overwhelmed with nervousness and quickly avert his gaze back towards his drink.
"I wonder how it's possible that everyone in here seems to be friends with one another? How can they all find it so easy to just interact without overthinking it?" Alistair thought to himself whilst gingerly swishing the tankard. "It's not all bad though I suppose, at least I have a drink and a comfortable place to sit some people surely have it worse than I"
His focus would shift back and forth from the tavern to the table constantly flipping between anxiety and getting lost in spiraling thoughts and taking in the laughter and joy of everyone around him. However difficult the situation seemed Alistair retained hope that maybe someone in the tavern would join him at his table so that he may find some companionship akin to his fellow patrons of The Brass Dragon.