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W. Velvet (
2016-10-31 11:39 pm (UTC)
In the King's Head
Waver Velvet had, by all accounts, beaten the rain. He didn't know how he managed to do so, but the plain facts were that his coach had arrived in town in the morning thanks to a schedule mix up on one of the travel routes, thus affording him time to drop off his bags in the room he was staying at and do a hair of exploring before things truly set in.
With the storm in full swing, Waver sat quietly in the tavern, his hands cradling a cup of mulled wine. He hadn't taken a sip of it yet, mostly because that meant his hands would soon lose their source of warmth. Still, the heady scent spiked with cloves and orange was a reassuring smell, far more reassuring than the lights in the window or not being alone in the tavern. There was a crowd of people and at least a few languages, and all of that went in one ear and out the other. Waver's focus was instead the windows and the world outside, watching the downpour.
There wasn't anything on his mind, nothing besides the weariness of travel. He'd go to bed soon, probably, and sleep his time on the road off once and for all. In the mean time though, he was warm and dry, and he was trying to focus on the simple pleasures of life lately.
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