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mnt_raphI
The weather outside is frightful, but the fire inside the Designated Tortoise Inn and Tavern is oh so delightful, which explains why it's packed to the gills on a night such as this. The storm came out of nowhere, and from the look of things it appears that the entire town was taken by surprise. No matter though, so long as the Barkeep doesn't run out of food, drink, or firewood all will be right with the world.
That is, of course, provided some idiot doesn't open the door.
...
Cue the idiot.
The door swings open violently, caught up in a gust of wind that even catches the man behind it by surprise. He stands in the doorway dumbfounded and momentarily blinded by the light from within, which is actually kind of funny, because as luck would have it the patrons of the Designated Tortoise are also momentarily blinded by the well timed flash of lightning that engulfs the man in back lighting.
The din dies down as the room pauses a moment to observe the stranger now darkening their doorstep. He's nothing particular to write home about, just your average ranger of average size and average build. In fact, the only thing noteworthy about him is how unnoteworthy he is, which is exactly why everyone is looking at him. He's the only average person in the room that no one knows.
It isn't until his eyes adjust to the flickering firelight that Raph realizes that everyone in the room is focused in his direction. He blinks a few times and then very slowly turns to see if there is, by chance, something horrifying looming behind him. What he finds is nothing more than an empty doorway leading to the torrential downpour outside. One doesn't have to be a rocket scientist to realize that they're staring at him, just an ex-turtle. Some things, it seems, never change. He shakes his head, sighs, and closes the door behind him. In this scene the part of the pin dropping will be played by the latch clicking shut.
"Yo, Barkeep. Got a horse in your stable needs lookin' to. Add that, and a night's lodging, to the ale you're gonna pour me," says the man as he begins to remove layer after layer of sopping wet gear and outer ware. One by one patrons begin to lose interest in the stranger and return to their previous conversations. He sighs again, this time in relief as the weigh of oh so many stares lifts from his shoulders.
The cool reception suits Raph fine, as he's about as happy to be in this tavern as these townies are to have him there. The plan was to be back at Olau before the Anniversary, but clearly Fate hadn't gotten his itinerary in time. He turns his attention to the nearest window which is still be pelted by strong wind and rain. The ongoing storm had washed out many of the roads, and rather than attempt a cross of open country in the dark, Raph thought it better to stop somewhere warm and dry for the night. It's the least he could do for poor old Cloud who had more than paid his dues on this journey already. Still, in spite of the debt he owes the pony Raph can't help but feel disappointed at the fact that prime travel time was being squandered sitting around in damp socks, especially after having planned his return so carefully.
When his year with the Griffin had come to an end Raph wasted no time picking his North East route back to Olau and packing accordingly. The good thing about martial arts masters is that they rarely necessitate lengthy goodbyes. Whether they respect you, or rue the day you walked into their life, a low bow is usually all they require. Raph also left Anthony a cake. One can't have too much good karma kicking around.
Raph is jarred out of his reverie by the sounds of his ale arriving.
"'Bout time," he grumbles without looking up.
"Yes well, most people say hello before they start making idle demands. Most civilized people, that is."
He looks up and sees not the burly man behind the bar, but a small blonde woman with blue eyes. Or at least he thinks she has blue eyes, really he is far more distracted by her tone and her smile, both of which drier than the Bazhier in Summer. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
Something clatters on the tabletop but Raph finds he can't pull his eyes away from the woman.
"Your key," she says, voice clipped and impersonal. "Up the stairs to the left. First door on the right. Horse is being tended to. All tabs to be collected at the sound of the bell." And with that she turns on her heel and marches away, disappearing into the crowd with the ease of a ninja.
Raph stares after her, mouth gaping.
He spends the next hour absentmindedly nursing his ale as he keeps a watchful eye on the crowd. Raph's hoping to catch another glimpse of the woman, but she never does reappear. The deeper into his beer he gets the more he starts to tell himself that she didn't really exist at all and is nothing more than a figment of his road weary imagination. To be on the safe side when the bell is rung and all tabs are to be paid Raph makes sure to leave a rather sizable tip for who is by far the most beautiful woman he's seen in a very long time.
The weather outside is frightful, but the fire inside the Designated Tortoise Inn and Tavern is oh so delightful, which explains why it's packed to the gills on a night such as this. The storm came out of nowhere, and from the look of things it appears that the entire town was taken by surprise. No matter though, so long as the Barkeep doesn't run out of food, drink, or firewood all will be right with the world.
That is, of course, provided some idiot doesn't open the door.
...
Cue the idiot.
The door swings open violently, caught up in a gust of wind that even catches the man behind it by surprise. He stands in the doorway dumbfounded and momentarily blinded by the light from within, which is actually kind of funny, because as luck would have it the patrons of the Designated Tortoise are also momentarily blinded by the well timed flash of lightning that engulfs the man in back lighting.
The din dies down as the room pauses a moment to observe the stranger now darkening their doorstep. He's nothing particular to write home about, just your average ranger of average size and average build. In fact, the only thing noteworthy about him is how unnoteworthy he is, which is exactly why everyone is looking at him. He's the only average person in the room that no one knows.
It isn't until his eyes adjust to the flickering firelight that Raph realizes that everyone in the room is focused in his direction. He blinks a few times and then very slowly turns to see if there is, by chance, something horrifying looming behind him. What he finds is nothing more than an empty doorway leading to the torrential downpour outside. One doesn't have to be a rocket scientist to realize that they're staring at him, just an ex-turtle. Some things, it seems, never change. He shakes his head, sighs, and closes the door behind him. In this scene the part of the pin dropping will be played by the latch clicking shut.
"Yo, Barkeep. Got a horse in your stable needs lookin' to. Add that, and a night's lodging, to the ale you're gonna pour me," says the man as he begins to remove layer after layer of sopping wet gear and outer ware. One by one patrons begin to lose interest in the stranger and return to their previous conversations. He sighs again, this time in relief as the weigh of oh so many stares lifts from his shoulders.
The cool reception suits Raph fine, as he's about as happy to be in this tavern as these townies are to have him there. The plan was to be back at Olau before the Anniversary, but clearly Fate hadn't gotten his itinerary in time. He turns his attention to the nearest window which is still be pelted by strong wind and rain. The ongoing storm had washed out many of the roads, and rather than attempt a cross of open country in the dark, Raph thought it better to stop somewhere warm and dry for the night. It's the least he could do for poor old Cloud who had more than paid his dues on this journey already. Still, in spite of the debt he owes the pony Raph can't help but feel disappointed at the fact that prime travel time was being squandered sitting around in damp socks, especially after having planned his return so carefully.
When his year with the Griffin had come to an end Raph wasted no time picking his North East route back to Olau and packing accordingly. The good thing about martial arts masters is that they rarely necessitate lengthy goodbyes. Whether they respect you, or rue the day you walked into their life, a low bow is usually all they require. Raph also left Anthony a cake. One can't have too much good karma kicking around.
Raph is jarred out of his reverie by the sounds of his ale arriving.
"'Bout time," he grumbles without looking up.
"Yes well, most people say hello before they start making idle demands. Most civilized people, that is."
He looks up and sees not the burly man behind the bar, but a small blonde woman with blue eyes. Or at least he thinks she has blue eyes, really he is far more distracted by her tone and her smile, both of which drier than the Bazhier in Summer. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
Something clatters on the tabletop but Raph finds he can't pull his eyes away from the woman.
"Your key," she says, voice clipped and impersonal. "Up the stairs to the left. First door on the right. Horse is being tended to. All tabs to be collected at the sound of the bell." And with that she turns on her heel and marches away, disappearing into the crowd with the ease of a ninja.
Raph stares after her, mouth gaping.
He spends the next hour absentmindedly nursing his ale as he keeps a watchful eye on the crowd. Raph's hoping to catch another glimpse of the woman, but she never does reappear. The deeper into his beer he gets the more he starts to tell himself that she didn't really exist at all and is nothing more than a figment of his road weary imagination. To be on the safe side when the bell is rung and all tabs are to be paid Raph makes sure to leave a rather sizable tip for who is by far the most beautiful woman he's seen in a very long time.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-26 03:46 am (UTC)It takes a good two weeks after Raph's return to the House of Young for the daily pattern of life to even itself out. This pattern closely resembles the one he lived before he left for his walk about, but with one major exception: He's no longer a drunken, depressed bump on a log. He may still the last to bed at night, but now he's the first to rise in the morning and his afternoons aren't spent nursing hang overs, but rather doing what ever odd job/handy man task to there is to be found in and around the keep. When time and obligation allows, and if Cloud is feeling up to it, Raph ventures into town on various errands.
It's during one such errand run that Raph finds himself back at the Disgruntled Tortoise. Only this time instead of being the outcast seated in a dark corner, he's just another part of the lunch crowd at the bar. Poor sod doesn't even realize where he is until the man behind the bar yells for Abigail and the blonde woman from that dark and stormy night appears.
Abigail. Her name is Abigail.
There's an exchange between the man and Abigail, but Raph is too dumbfounded to absorb any meaning from the conversation. At the moment his attention span more than occupied with the facts as they sit before him: That she exists and her name is Abigail; that her eyes are in fact blue; and that she is far more beautiful than he remembers, which is probably because this time 'round she is smiling.
Content in the knowledge that his day is now complete, Raph finishes his lunch and heads back to the Young homestead, all with a rather large grin on his face. A grin he keeps even as Alanna chastises him for having forgotten the new tack at the tanners, which was his whole reason for going to town in the first place.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-26 04:32 am (UTC)Finding excuses to go into town has become a whole lot easier now that Raph has expanded his odd job work to include anyone who asks for help. As a result he's stopped taking lunch back at the house and eats almost exclusively at the Disgruntled Tortoise. Slowly but surely he's earning his Regular status from the other denizens of the tavern. Those that smile do so when they see him, and those that don't nod in his direction. For the most part though, he keeps to the wayside, content to just watch the comings and goings of those around him. Every now and again he'll catch a random conversation and pick up a stray fact or two. Like that Abigail's Father Joseph owns the inn and that some day soon he'll pass it down to Thomas and Abigail. Thomas would be the name of the charismatic young man behind the bar, who is more often than not the source of Abigail's nicest smiles. Raph does his best to ignore that they very clearly dote upon one another, but even his newly centered patience has its limits. Those days are the ones where he usually finds himself chopping wood somewhere, whether it's needed or not.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-26 05:10 am (UTC)The more he visits, the more he learns. For instance, did you know that when Abigail was a toddler she used to run around the tavern nude? Neither did Raph. For his own personal safety Raph hides his smile behind his tankard, for fear of receiving the same tongue lashing as the old man got for sharing the tale. If there's one thing Abigail could do it was defend herself. The woman had a comeback for every jibe and heckle, no matter the size of her opponent. The language she used was something to behold in and of itself. Some of the stuff Abigail would say would have made Casey blush to hear it, which is saying something right there. And loud? No one could out volume her if she deemed it so. That woman could scream like a banshee if she needed to, and often did. It continually surprised Raph just how much noise could come out of someone so tiny. Then again, Alanna wasn't exactly an Amazon, and look how she stood up when she needed to.
There was no doubt about it, Raph was smitten ... and she was taken.
Ain't that just a kick in the teeth.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-28 04:54 pm (UTC)Raph doesn't look up from his beef stew when the front door of the Designated Tortoise bursts open, and he doesn't pay much heed to the man marching purposely towards the bar. He does, however, look up sharply when he hears someone calling for Abigail with an unacceptable amount of anger in their voice.
"ABIGAIL! You get out here this instant!"
Thomas hears the commotion and comes in from the store-room.
"Owen, what a surprise!"
"Not now, Thomas. ABIGAIL! Did you hear me! Now!"
"What's the matter? What's going on?"
"Thomas, you say out of this!"
"Stay out of what?
"ABIGAIL!"
"Honestly Owen, keep your voice down..."
"I'll do no such thing! Where is she? Find her! Get her out here!"
"Get who out where?" asks Abigail appearing in the doorway between the bar and the kitchen. She may look like she's merely wiping her hands on her apron, but really what she's doing is trying to conceal the fact that her hands are balled into fists.
"There you are you...you...harlot!"
"I do beg your pardon."
"You heard me!"
"No, no I don't think I did. Could you possibly say it just a touch louder, you know how thickheaded I can be." Her voice had gone sub-zero. Thomas' eyes widen.
"Abigail. Owen. Perhaps a back room would be a more suitable place for this discussion."
"Why? The whole town likely knows by now anyway! It's bloody likely these men are all in here just because they've heard!"
Thomas is very nearly the personification of confusion.
"What the Goddess is going on here?"
"Well go on, Owen. Tell him. Tell him what's going on here." Each sentence brings her closer and closer to Owen.
"It is bad enough how you dishonor the family with that mouth of yours, but now to cheapen yourself..."
The sentence ends abruptly as Abigail wastes no time in punching him dead in the face. To both his credit and folly Owen doesn't back down and quickly raises a hand to return the blow. That's when instinct takes over; not Abigail's or Thomas', but Raph's. With little to know warning Raph lunges over the bar-top, taking Owen down as he does so.
Had Raph known then that Thomas, Abigail, and Owen were siblings, and not a happy couple and an interloping asshole, things might have gone a bit differently. He might not have knocked Owen to the floor, or broken Thomas' nose. He certainly wouldn't have left his guard down long enough for Abigail to get her hands on a pub stool. If there’s something to be said about Tortalian carpentry, it’s that they build things to last. They don’t fuck around with ornamentation, and particle board is just right out. Things do what they were built to do, and continued to do so for years. The pub stool that connects with the back of Raph’s head does so with the weight of all bottoms it has, or ever will, support. The rest, as they say, is silence.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-28 04:57 pm (UTC)"Oh good, you're awake. We thought we might have lost you there for a while."
"ugh...feels like i been hit by a truck."
"Hmmm. Talking nonsense, that can't be good. Try your best not to move. I'll let the healer know that you're awake."
"No! no healers. no magic."
"Okay, okay. No no, don't sit up. No healers. You have my word."
"where am i?"
"The stable. Thought it might be best to keep the three of you apart, all things considered.
"what happened?"
"I...I'm afraid that I hit you rather hard with a chair...accidentally."
"accidentally?"
"Well I didn't mean to hit you quite so hard."
"but you did mean to hit me?"
"Well, you were attacking my brothers."
She can't help but smile as he lay there, brow furrowed in confusion. He honestly thought she was in actual danger, and his first response was to leap out and protect her. Before she can help herself, she leans in for a kiss.
"woah! you don't gotta do that. i mean, i didn't do what i did expectin' some sorta payment..."
"You think me a whore then, do you?"
"no! I don't mean that neither."
"Then what do you mean?"
"That I...you...you ain't some prize i was tryin' to win."
"So now I'm not a worthy prize?"
"Aww cripes, I don't mean that!" his ears were turning red.
"No no. I understand. I was but a delicate flower in need of a big strong man’s protection against big bad brother. How ever have I successfully drawn breath without you to tend to me, I wonder?
He buries his face in his hands. Again Abigail smiles. How someone so bullheaded could also be so bashful eludes her. She leans in close, her lips but a whisper from his ear.
"Do us both a favor and kiss me before your dig yourself into an even deeper..."
"I...wait...whut?"
"I didn't hit you so hard that you've forgotten how to kiss a woman, did I?"
"No, I know.....but...You don't ever even talk to me!"
"Aye, this is true...but I have also never charged you for ale either. So about that favor you..."
It seems as though a third request will be unnecessary...