Post by Drisk on Dec 30, 2015 18:31:30 GMT
The coffee, smiling waitress, and notebook on the table almost made this feel like home.
The cafe' Drisk had chosen this afternoon was certainly a nice one. The view of the market square was lovely and the open air seating was always appreciated. His current setup of caffeine and empty pages to be filled with new ideas was incredibly familiar. But of course, every time he'd look up to meet the voice of his waitress only to see that she'd stepped out of a Renaissance Faire and into her 9 to 5 he was reminded of exactly where he was. And it wasn't home. And he wasn't even himself.
He offered the girl a meek smile and a nod before cracking open his journal. Nothing but empty pages the whole way through. He'd been walking around this broken, magical city for more than just a while now and it looked like he had little to show for it. Elder Tale was supposed to give him some kind of inspiration and really, truly, what better way to get it than LIVING in the world yourself? One would think that at least, but apparently even becoming a dwarf and walking about a world crowded with heroes and monsters still wasn't enough to get the gears moving. Drisk huffed a sigh and took a careful sip of the still piping hot coffee, fiddling about with a quill in his other hand. Thank god it actually tasted like coffee this time around. Those first few days of bland, tasteless food and drink were just abysmal.
A glance at the bustling street at his side made it pretty clear that others were adapting to this world a bit better than he was. Everyone seemed to be so easily falling into their roles. Towering men and women strutting about in full armor, stealthy and sneaky folk meandering about and exchanging glances, wizards and magic users toying with their spells. They'd all embraced the world they'd been caught in by the looks of things.... but Drisk was just having a harder time letting go. Of course it was interesting to think of the things he was capable of here, anyone would love the chance to cast spells or swing a sword, but living it around the clock was a different story all together. He could feel his thoughts start to spiral downward in the way they tended to. At this rate he was going to need to leave and find somewhere to calm down... he certainly didn't look distressed, but he wanted to take off before that changed. In a muted huff he tossed his journal back into his bag, starting to stand from his seat.
But something stopped him. The sounds of a lute off in the corner of the cafe's patio.
With a sigh and a slight smile he resettled himself. Music. Music was nice. Music was worth sticking around for. The journal was fetched again from his bag and he once again opened it, tapping the feather of his quill against his bearded chin in contemplation. There had to be something worth writing... if only he knew what it was.
[ WC: 526 ]
The cafe' Drisk had chosen this afternoon was certainly a nice one. The view of the market square was lovely and the open air seating was always appreciated. His current setup of caffeine and empty pages to be filled with new ideas was incredibly familiar. But of course, every time he'd look up to meet the voice of his waitress only to see that she'd stepped out of a Renaissance Faire and into her 9 to 5 he was reminded of exactly where he was. And it wasn't home. And he wasn't even himself.
He offered the girl a meek smile and a nod before cracking open his journal. Nothing but empty pages the whole way through. He'd been walking around this broken, magical city for more than just a while now and it looked like he had little to show for it. Elder Tale was supposed to give him some kind of inspiration and really, truly, what better way to get it than LIVING in the world yourself? One would think that at least, but apparently even becoming a dwarf and walking about a world crowded with heroes and monsters still wasn't enough to get the gears moving. Drisk huffed a sigh and took a careful sip of the still piping hot coffee, fiddling about with a quill in his other hand. Thank god it actually tasted like coffee this time around. Those first few days of bland, tasteless food and drink were just abysmal.
A glance at the bustling street at his side made it pretty clear that others were adapting to this world a bit better than he was. Everyone seemed to be so easily falling into their roles. Towering men and women strutting about in full armor, stealthy and sneaky folk meandering about and exchanging glances, wizards and magic users toying with their spells. They'd all embraced the world they'd been caught in by the looks of things.... but Drisk was just having a harder time letting go. Of course it was interesting to think of the things he was capable of here, anyone would love the chance to cast spells or swing a sword, but living it around the clock was a different story all together. He could feel his thoughts start to spiral downward in the way they tended to. At this rate he was going to need to leave and find somewhere to calm down... he certainly didn't look distressed, but he wanted to take off before that changed. In a muted huff he tossed his journal back into his bag, starting to stand from his seat.
But something stopped him. The sounds of a lute off in the corner of the cafe's patio.
With a sigh and a slight smile he resettled himself. Music. Music was nice. Music was worth sticking around for. The journal was fetched again from his bag and he once again opened it, tapping the feather of his quill against his bearded chin in contemplation. There had to be something worth writing... if only he knew what it was.
[ WC: 526 ]
