a break from the action (o)

[VULCAN]

It was one of those moments where Vulcan did not have to worry about tracking down a target, escaping an angry guard or wondering how to dodge the next fate-sealing blow that was coming from some ten foot troll; and during these moments, the mage took the time to relax and enjoy his well-deserved break. Even a member of the Dark Brotherhood needed some time to themselves, not all of them were workaholics who lived for their job...which was usually ending an unfortunate life or two. You could only go so far without stopping before it would all begin to catch up with you - and there was no stopping it. Determined to not let such a thing happen to him, Vulcan planned this little relaxation time and his problem-solver was quite frankly, the building he was in right now.

The Dead Man's Drink. It wasn't the most fanciest of places, however it was suitable for when decent food and drink was your choice of the evening; but if you're lucky, there might be a bar-fight or two! The last time Vulcan was in here, a Nord accidentally drunk an Orc's ale - and as they were both drunk, it was a great bit of entertainment for a few minutes in the eyes of the mage, filled with fists flying and drunken insults. Although tonight seemed quiet, there were not many faces around the inn and business was going slow; perhaps the word of dangerous dragons flying the skies had frightened the folk of Skyrim?

Whatever the case was in this crazy land, Vulcan didn't appear to be taking any notice. Sitting at a table in the corner with his drink resting on the table next to his recently finished dinner, Vulcan washed down the taste of the meal with a sip of ale.

Vulcan's eyes scanned the room for a moment, almost about to get up off his seat but a feeling of laziness overcoming him and making him retain his spot. The warming fire in the middle of the room could be felt from a few meters away but Vulcan was not complaining, it was a cold night though that was a common thing in the land of Skyrim.

The door to the inn slowly opened as a customer entered, the chilling breeze sneaking in and making Vulcan shake for a moment, his body not welcoming the cool feeling. "Blistering cold and now dragons. What's next? Levitating mammoths?" He moaned sarcastically under his breath, taking another sip of his drink.

By the looks of things, it was going to be a long night.

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[Varitia]

"Here we are!"

The Dead Man's Drink was a decently-sized, traditional tavern, and surprisingly quiet and empty. The Imperial stood awkwardly by the doorway for a few minutes, watching as a meager number of people filtered into the inn. She wasn't at all used to lodging like this – often, the places she stayed at were brimming with activity. The patrons came in steady, constant streams, individually or in small groups. Some of the guests would be rowdier than others, and occasionally a scuffle would play out in front of her eyes. In the short time she spent there from standing at the entrance, Varitia saw no such activity, but noticed an argument start to brew at one side of the room. The confrontation wasn't causing too much trouble or noise, but Varitia turned her head in order to avoid seeing them settle their dispute by leaving one knocked out on the floor. (She doubted it would happen, but she had never been a fan of violence.) As her gaze left the inside of the tavern, it came to the expectant young Nord who had taken her here in the first place. He was holding out one hand, the other covering his mouth as he cleared his throat loudly.

The brunette bounced in recognition and remembrance, and pulled out a small handful of septims from her coin purse. She had asked the lad for directions to the nearest inn, but he had only agreed should there be payment. Most likely, it was a little unfair, and she could have looked for someone else of course, but frankly, Ritia was tired and too unbothered to find search for a reason to save a small amount of coin. She thanked him before striding into the eerily deserted room, afraid to cause a noise and break the strange sanctity of the silence. A voice caught her attention, and she raised an eyebrow in question. Levit– what? Shaking her head, she chose to ignore the statement. Yet, out of curiosity, she strode over to the source of the voice. The man was an Imperial, from the looks of it, and that was enough to lull her into a sense of longing for home.

But now wasn't the time for that.

"Not fond of the abnormal?" she inquired lightly, taking a seat near him, even though he hadn't asked. She dragged her chair back so that it was settled in a comfortable nook, but still near enough to the male to be able to converse with him. It may have seemed odd to want to inch as close to a wall as she could get, but Varitia had always been most comfortable tucked away in a corner. Maybe it was because she liked the safe seclusion and protected isolation of the position. Maybe it was because she had a clear view of all the other people in the room as they entered. Maybe it was because it felt quieter than the rest of the enclosed area, hell, maybe it was just because she could rest without the risk of being bothered. It could have been anything, really; she never really bothered to psychoanalyze her seating preferences. The young adult lifted her hand lazily above her head and proceeded to give a single wave, her index finger circling the air once while the others curled into her palm in succession. The innkeeper noticed this and nodded his head, and Varitia turned back to the stranger, waiting for his response as well as the drink she had just ordered.

[VULCAN]

Truthfully, the last thing the mage would of expected right now was for a woman to come into the inn and sit next to him with the intention of starting conversation - though it was a welcoming surprise for him! Too many a time would a drunken, depressed Nord come and spit random nonsense in his ear for an hour or a stuck-up High Elf would boast about his fine collection of spell tomes to Vulcan; sure it was someone to talk to, but usually after several minutes, he wished he had a mute spell - oh, how great that would be. Although, Vulcan was already beginning to think that this woman would prove for much better company than those, not to mention the added bonus that she was an Imperial too, or so he assumed. She was not too tall like a Nord, did not have the appearance of a Redguard and his eyes could not spot some sort of magical staff that many Bretons enjoyed carrying around - and he didn't need to analyze any more than that to realize she wasn't of any other race found in Skyrim.

Meeting other Imperials in the land of Skyrim was actually quite refreshing, a chance to see more people from his homeland. It was a nice change from always looking up at the Nords, the tall folk of this snowy land.

Vulcan smirked at her comment, the irony of it being the fact that he was a mage, someone who could be classed as abnormal due to their abilities. "Well, only the abnormal things that make my life a bit more difficult. As long as these dragons that I've heard about don't breathe fire in my direction, maybe then I'll think about inviting them over for dinner." He commented, retaining a suave look on his face and taking another sip of his drink, noticing out of the corner of his eye that she had just signaled the innkeeper to bring her a drink. "Ah, where are my manners: I am Vulcan, a pleasure." The mage stated rather politely, placing the drink back onto the wooden table of the inn. Thinking of adding 'Of the Dark Brotherhood' on to the end of that just for the reaction, Vulcan realized that potentially could not go down well, so he kept that little part to himself - it was always a safe bet in assuming that the person you were talking to would not find the presence of a brotherhood member comforting, not to mention the guild did not appreciate their members throwing around such facts in public. The last time he accidentally blurted out he was of the Dark Brotherhood, an old woman ran around shouting 'Murderer!' for a good ten minutes...which caused quite a hassle. Not everyone knew of the shady guild, though the risk of revealing such allegiance was a risk that those of the faction did not want to take...without good reason, of course.

Perhaps it wasn't going to be such a dull night after all.