childrenofbahamutlogs | what you're given, what you live in

Entry tags:

what you're given, what you live in

Who: Ardyn & You
What: A catch-all log for Ardyn and the various shit he's bound to get up to outside of events (so: quests, misc. interactions, etc.)
Where: All around Town
When: The last months of 2024

Warnings: Blanket warnings for suicidal ideation, self-harm tendencies, alcoholism, and others that will be specific to the threads and noted in the subject line!

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While he didn't pay much attention to the language of flowers even when a mortal man, he knows the basic meanings. It helps that floriography was popular in the modern age and so he also had plenty of 'memories' relating to the topic to help guide him along too. Perhaps a bit of an unfair advantage, but he's never been above using those when he does have them.

The mention of wanting something to draws his gaze back to the table instead of the bar. He might briefly imagine those large metal claws wrapping around his throat again instead of the glass but Jhank Troth keeps his thoughts from straying too far towards the obscene. He's done well to not make things weird up until now and it needs to remain that way. Right, okay- Anyway! The next mental conundrum is the concern that he's enabling poor behavior on Ravus' part.

Not that he is since that's just inevitable, but that he doesn't actually care if so. He would love to see the man be a little less guarded around him. That's not a bad thing inherently, right? Of course not. So, there isn't any pushback from Ardyn or his soul's companion. Rather, the redhead watches with a small raise of his brows in curious interest for Ravus' reaction to the drink. It's just a bit of mulled wine so nothing with too powerful of a kick, but it does burn in that fun smooth way he appreciates.

"While I have no qualms with sharing," he starts, "why not have one of your own? Get the whole experience. Order at the bar yourself, even, and work some of that natural charm to maybe get a discount."

Ravus is still looking down at the glass, but the slight flutter of his lashes is most certainly a poorly hidden roll of his eyes. Charm. Right.

“You and I both know that despite being a prince, there is nothing charming about to be happening on my end.” Ravus sighs, and tips the glass a bit. He then glances to the bar. He could do as suggested, but he's never ordered a drink in his life, doesn't even know what to ask for. The most alcohol he's ever had would have been dinner wines in his teens, still living in Fenestala.

There's the very real possibility of embarrassing himself, but he's dared himself to boldness by this stunt. And backing down now is going to invoke a pout from Ardyn, he's fairly sure. Which... Shouldn't leave a lingering sense of disappointment in the back of his mind, but it does.

Fine.

Ravus stands, taking the glass delicately in his claws.

“I'll bring yours as well,” is his relenting agreement, not wanting to admit he is doing this less for any of his own curiosity, and more because subconsciously, he wants Ardyn's approval here.

Though for his griping about not being charming, it barely takes a moment or two of being at the bar for someone to approach him. He hasn't even managed to flag down the barkeep when motion from his left has him immediately on alert. There's a rather bulky fellow there, skin a darkish sage, and sporting a pair of impressive tusks capped in decorative iron.

Immediately, he's leaning into Ravus’ space, and the silver doesn't necessarily back away, never one to be intimidated by size. Drautos was infinitely more impressive of a presence than this man. Still, the orc flashes a grin, and strikes up a coy conversation(or attempts to) with Ravus.

What becomes apparent to anyone watching though, is that Ravus is being flirted with, and is missing it entirely. He answers too brusquely, keeps his shoulders squared defensively, and generally seems unaware. There's a disconcerting look about his expression, uncomfortable with the attention. But more importantly, the flirtatious orc seems to take this as needing to up his game, press him a bit more. That's when he lays a gloved hand on Ravus’ back, as if to invite him closer.

While Ardyn didn't actually expect much of his suggestion, he's somewhat pleased that Ravus decides to try his hand at ordering their drinks. It's for the best that he doesn't realize it's to seek his approval; he'd be both too full of himself and simultaneously ashamed at the realization to think someone would want his affirmation of all people. "You may be surprised," Ardyn offers, without recognizing how right he is.

Yet. It doesn't take long. The man was enjoying watching Ravus stroll up - for more obvious reasons than others - and try to get the barkeep's attention. But it's someone else whose attention he draws, which- That's fine. Of course, it's fine. This is just a date and it's not like he has any sort of claim. Besides, he imagines that Ravus will fluster once he realizes what's happening and that might be a cute sight in and of itself. Nevermind the tension of his claws now scratching divots into the lacquered tabletop beneath him as his gaze is fixated on the pair despite himself.

He does, in fact, get a little defensive but it doesn't deter the orc any. For as cool and detached as Ardyn wants to be watching the display, he can't be. Maybe because he recognizes himself a bit too much in that other man. He knows all about finding the appeal in pressing a little harder against someone that could be perceived as playing hard to get, the enjoyment in the challenge of it. Maybe that's why his tail flicks and pupils tighten into slits as he huffs a frosty breath in annoyance.

It's the hand on his lower back that spurs Ardyn into actual action. He was willing to let it be until that point, but now it's personal. (It isn't, at all, says Jhank who is desperately trying to be a voice of reason amidst the turbulent, violent thoughts now circling Ardyn's brain.)

"Ahem," interjects the redhead, loud and obnoxious as he approaches. Despite this fellow being far larger and intimidating in presence, Ardyn isn't a man known for his self-preservation instincts to begin with so it really doesn't deter him any. "I don't know what you think is going on here, but I can assure you it isn't anything in your favor. I can tell you right now that he isn't interested and would likely prefer to return to his actual date."

Ravus is about to tell this man he has no desire to be touched like this when that curt interjection does it for him. The orc’s heavy hand shifts, setting on his hip, and accentuating an annoyed stance. He curls his lip, one capped tusk skewing crookedly as he looks Ardyn up and down. Whatever he sees doesn't seem to impress, and he glances to Ravus then back to Ardyn.

“You gonna do something about it? 'Cause I don't recall inviting you to this conversation, friend. I suggest you scurry along to whatever hole you crawled outta.” The orc snorts, and playfully pats Ravus’ shoulder like he's in on the joke. Ravus bares his teeth, and shifts his weight to be closer to Ardyn. Being flirted with may have gone over his head, but this blatant, cruel mockery he knows well enough, and he's not thrilled.

Being snubbed has their unwelcome third looking annoyed though.

“What, unless he's your keeper? He speak for you?”

To which Ravus growls, and actively puts himself beside Ardyn when their shoulders brush to show exactly which of the pair he's interested in.

“No one speaks for me. I've no interest in you though,” Ravus sneers.

A pair of foreign half-dragon mutts doesn't rightly seem to impress the orc, and he leans dangerously close to them. The confident, egotistical pride in his burning orange eyes says it all, but his foul mouth makes it all the more clear.

“Now don't be like that, pretty little bird. I'm a far better pick than your scraggly date here. Come spend a night with me, and I'll show you better than this slim pickin’.” And already he's reaching to touch Ravus again, though this time the silver looks ready to claw his eyes out for it.

This orc doesn't know when to quit, does he? Again, Ardyn thinks he would be enjoying things if he wasn't on the other end of it for once. Perhaps later (or perhaps never), he might reflect on how badly it made him feel to watch someone else press so against Ravus' wishes. How easily it could have been and has been him before.

Right now, though? It isn't even a thought. His only actual thinking is: this brute is trying to play Ardyn's own game and doing very poorly at it. The weight of Ravus pressing bodily against him is indication enough of that, which- He's a bit smug about himself, if he's being honest. He isn't used to being a protector (anymore, at least) so it's strange in a surreal but pleasant sort of way.

And it's not as though Ravus can't stand up for himself. Arguably, he can. He is. He tells the other man off, mildly, but it seems it's not enough of a push to deter him. Calling Ardyn names and putting him down isn't what actually upsets him in the end. It's the calling of Ravus some kind of pet name, like he knows him at all, and the disrespect that conveys that he won't stand for.

"You think he's some kind of bird you can cage and admire, do you?"
'Don't,' says Jhank in his mind.

But it's far too late for that now.

Ravus doesn't need to claw at anyone because Ardyn strikes first. It's a harsh grab of the orc's wrist before he can actually touch the silver-haired man. The redhead's entire demeanor has shifted from faintly amused to absolutely unhinged savagery. His claws sink in hard enough to hurt already, but it's the clamping of large fangs against his arm that causes him to actually yell.

Ardyn gives a frosty hiss when he's yanked forcefully off by his hair, pulled out of its ponytail and left to lay wild and untamed like usual, and snarls as he's slammed against the bar. It does give him pause due to the force knocking the wind out of his lungs but he recovers quick enough. Pain and the following adrenaline see him lashing out again only a second later. He spits blood - some of his own and the orc's both - and gives him a mean, crimson smile. "He isn't some fragile songbird for you to simply admire," Ardyn snaps, "he's a regal, royal gryphon who could end you without even trying and you'll show him some damn respect."

His next attack is a grab of a bottle from somewhere behind the counter to smash against the orc's large, moronic skull. Maybe that will knock some sense into him. The rest is, he admits, a little bit of a blur. Some inhuman strength on both parts seeing them topple and tumble. A couple of tables knocked away and property damage he'll no doubt have to pay for. They're separated before too long, at least, though not before Ardyn rips another chunk of flesh off of him with his bare teeth and growls from deep in his chest.

He's spitting frost and panting before he's also thrown out of the establishment, which- Okay. Yes, that's fair. 'Of course it is,' says Jhank, finally able to cut through the violent overlay of his thoughts until then.

'You ruined everything.' That isn't his dragon-soul that time, but just... Ardyn. Once anger starts to recede and he remembers where, exactly, he is and what he was supposed to be doing and with who-

Ah, there it is. The first hint and inklings of shame. Regret. He wouldn't be surprised if Ravus just left in the midst of all that and is admittedly a bit too afraid to check. He will. He just needs a moment to wallow first.

Ravus has never been in a bar fight before, namely because his frequenting of bars was just as nonexistent as the rest of his social life. He's also never felt what it's like to be defended in such a way. Called regal and powerful, told he's worth that sort of respect. It's enough to get his heart thundering, but adrenaline takes over that task when a fight properly breaks out. What he expects, he doesn't know, but it's not for Ardyn to bite the nuisance orc. Or for tables to go toppling, bottles to be smashed, or the ruckus of a whole pack of drunkards crowding them.

While Ardyn deals with the orc, Ravus is left to bay anyone else trying to get in on the brawl. He rakes his claws over the chest of another orc, and his tail strikes one of the bouncers trying to get past him. There's lightning from his claws and breath, but they're all quickly ushered out before they manage to tear the building down.

He's not sure where the orc ends up, but Ardyn is tossed into the street, and Ravus is herded after him. The door to the bar slams shut in his face, and as he whirls around he lashes his tail across the wood, gouging it in annoyance. It gives a few more angry thumps before he draws in a deep breath, holds it, and counts it to settle himself.

That's when he goes to Ardyn, immediately setting his hands on his jaw to look him over. Tilting his head some to note any injuries that wild auburn hair might hide initially. They're both a bit scuffed, but the worst on Ravus is a splash of blood on the downy collar of his coat, and probably some liquor that managed to spill in the ensuing chaos.

Yet for all Ardyn's shame, Ravus doesn't set him with any sort of look to convey he's irritated with him. If anything, there's a soft concern that has his mismatched gaze darting over the other man. The pad of his thumb cleans a smear of blood from the corner of Ardyn's mouth before he asks instead of just looking him over intensely.

“You're all right? Nothing broken or bleeding?”

As far as bar fights go, Ardyn would claim that's one of the tamer ones he's been involved in. No one even died this time! That's basically a gold star for good behavior on his part. Granted, the orc couldn't have done anything to truly hurt him - thanks to Charlie's enchantments. Yet, that didn't prevent him from getting a few good swings in. He can feel the ache of what's likely to be a black eye forming and a split in his lip that blood rolls down from along his chin. Not to mention the rest of the blood seeping from his mouth still, but- Details.

He hears Ravus before he sees him. That gouge of wood sounds angry, irritated, and Ardyn is expecting it to be directed towards him next. It's what he would deserve. Instead, he feels hands coming to his face in a surprisingly gentle way. His head is turned not harshly, but gingerly, even if he still gives a wince and a hiss for it. There's a scrape along one side of his neck where the orc tried to grab his throat again but couldn't get a good grip.

For all he wonders what Ravus might say to him, how he might be admonished- It's clear the last thing he was expecting was to be asked if he was alright. He looks up for the first time, actually, in what's plainly brief surprise before schooling his emotions back into something more placid. "Not that I can tell," he answers, softer than he means to. Uncertain.

"You aren't angry." It's not a question, actually, but a statement of fact. Ravus isn't angry at him. The actual unspoken question though is: Why not?

Ravus mirrors the brief surprise, and tilts his head to the side. Pale, silvery hair follows the motion, making him look a bit like a shaggy dog trying to decipher whatever unknowable sounds his person is making.

“I wouldn't call this anger, no,” he says, and glances back towards the bar. “Irritation, perhaps. But nothing so drastic, and certainly not with you.”

His gaze falls back to Ardyn, and the hand at his jaw glides down to the gouge at his neck. It's not deep, but it doesn't look terribly pleasant either. Who knows if that brute had ever washed his hands in his lifetime, and the infection risk pings the part of his mind that's shared with an old doctor of a dragon. They should tend to it, among the other various scuffs. After Ravus addresses the confusion.

“But that surprises you?” He knows what he saw, even if it was brief. “To have my honor defended, and to be... Err-” Ravus stumbles a bit here, feeling the heat rise on his face. Those pale, sharp cheekbones do a horrible job of disguising the dusky color that starts to appear. “To be referred to quite so graciously is rather new to me. It's... Nice.”

It's a lot of things that bring up a lot of feelings that Ravus is sorely under-qualified to properly name or parse. So he doesn't, at least not while they're both in the middle of the street.

Ravus straightens himself up, offering Ardyn his real hand to help him up too. With his odd eyes cast to the cobblestones, Ravus waits if he'll take the offer, but does say, a touch quieter, “a gryphon, am I?”

'Not with you' is perhaps the last thing he's expecting to hear. Why not with him? He'd thrown a jealous fit. This was nothing more than violent temper tantrum over what was - as he perceived - rightfully his being taken out from under him. Not only that, but it being disrespected.

Ravus saw it though as a defense of his honor. It technically was, by the loosest standards, but it was more to do with Ardyn being slighted and his pride wounded than Ravus in the moment. What he'd said had just been what felt right in the midst of things, but he also recognizes that he did mean it. He did think it was true. That isn't always the case with the things that Ardyn utters, but this time it was. Of course, he isn't surprised that Ravus isn't used to hearing such 'kind' words either. The most he probably got in Niflheim (if not just blatant insults) were likely thinly veiled condescension under the guise of being polite or professional.

"You are," Ardyn confirms. He does pull himself up too with that offered hand - giving only a small wince from his bound-to-be worse-later aching back - and stares the other man down. It feels important that he says he meant that, that he does think it's true. That's even without the help of Jhank nudging him in that direction, he'd also like to believe though his influence doesn't hurt matters any. "And it's a shame The Empire tried to keep you caged, too, without realizing what you were actually capable of. It's a shame that... I didn't recognize it sooner myself, but I am glad for the opportunity granted to me here to remedy that."

If it’s not what Ardyn expects to hear, then it’s certainly not what comes next that Ravus expects either. There was so little about his time in Niflheim that was a choice, and yet he’s always been made to carry it as if it had been. A traitor to his own, abandoning his home and his people. An outsider, unworthy of his station, undeserving of his place. As if he’d chosen to be in that cage, and not locked within. The fact it’s Ardyn acknowledging that too- well, he’s learning a lot about the other man, isn’t he?

“I’d feel strange saying you’re welcome for such, given I intentionally kept myself guarded from anyone.” Again, not by choice so long as he needed to survive. Still, Ravus can’t help but wonder if he missed something… kinder for it. Like this. “But I am glad to give it now. Who would have ever guessed I’d have my honor defended in a bar of all things.”

Once he helps Ardyn up, Ravus takes a moment to dust down his rumpled collar, and generally fusses over him as much as is acceptable on a public street.

“But I do think we might wish to avoid another scene. We’ll find somewhere to stay and get cleaned up.” He glances at the blood splashed on his collar, and that’s not even acknowledging there’s still smears of it on Ardyn’s face and chest. “Perhaps a private dinner might be a better option for the rest of our date.”

He looks as if he means to leave it there. Perhaps to start looking for an inn or lodge, as that’s the logical next step. Only, Ravus hesitates to step back from Ardyn. He lingers, gaze intense, but focused as if his attention is entirely inwards. Finally, those mismatched eyes snap to his date’s, and Ravus leans in to tilt Ardyn’s head with his claws. He presses a chaste, but meaningful kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I mean this sincerely- thank you.”

It is a bit strange, isn't it? Back home, Ardyn can't say he would have been willing to ever extend any sort of true kindness on his part either. He liked Ravus for his connections to The Oracle, the information those letters to his sister gave him, and how he could use him. He'd never really considered the man beyond that like he has here; he also does mean that too though, he acknowledges. That he's been grateful for the opportunity to here.

"Walls are built so others can't scale them. Unfortunately, walls alone can't discern from good and bad. That's up to us, but..." Hm. How to word it? "Sometimes it's just easier to mistrust everyone, just in case." He's talking about Ravus, but that could also apply to him. Without the stakes of everything and being beholden to fate? He doesn't want to grow too soft - just in case, as mentioned - lest they go home and have to put back on the same tracks. But maybe, with enough time, Ardyn too could allow some people to scale those walls regardless.

Eventually. Maybe. He'll see.

It does make it easier to consider as an option when he's fussed over so. Reminiscent of a time long ago, when someone else would care for him in ways he didn't care for himself. "That suits me just fine, really, though that's-" He had been starting to talk and lead the charge again as he's wont to do. While he figured Ravus was done and just staring at him to see what the next move was, he couldn't have fathomed that move would be from Ravus himself. "That's..." He tries again, but trails off.

It's not often that Ardyn is taking genuinely by surprise anymore, but he is in this moment. It shows briefly in the subtle way his eyes widen and eyebrows raise as he processes that he was just kissed. A sharp contrast, notably, to the first kiss they exchanged prior and how he'd teased and taunted. (It's probably him who looks rather teasable, honestly, a little dumbstruck.)

It only lasts a moment though before he's clearing his throat and trying to regain some semblance of control in the situation. "You're welcome. But don't thank me too soon, if we still have more date to go. I can promise I won't get into another bar fight, but who knows what other trouble I might get into yet." There! There, that's appropriately theatrical and redirecting.

Ravus blinks, seemingly surprised to have that aspect of himself understood so readily. He’s rather used to the misgivings he treats most with met with either hostility, or useless optimism to give people a chance. Until so recently, it hadn’t been an option, though few could understand just how dire that cold truth had been for him. But Ardyn was there, too. Maybe he did understand as deeply as his words might seem to convey. Ravus holds his breath a moment, and when he exhales, he decides he must have made the right choice then, in trusting Ardyn with this chance. It feels right, anyway.

Especially when it seems he catches Ardyn by surprise too. There’s a satisfaction in it that almost makes him purr. What comes out is a bit of a huff, though there’s contentment in the way Ravus straightens himself to his full height, and looks as though he doesn’t mind the idle threat of more chaos altogether. He’s not having a bad time, despite the setback. After he smooths down Ardyn’s collar properly, Ravus steps back from his fussing.

“Let us at least avoid more bloodshed. I fear white fur may have been a mistake.” Again, he glances at the collar of his coat, grimacing. He hopes settling at an inn will provide less opportunity for such. So he takes Ardyn by the wrist, and follows the road closer towards the edge of town, where they might find traveller’s posts.

If his fingers press into Ardyn’s palm a bit, a silent, subtle offer to hold, then Ravus makes no mention of it, and keeps his eyes forward. No one could call him a coward, but this is all new territory in so many ways. Understanding where boundaries and permissions lay unspoken doesn’t come naturally to him. Even if Ardyn’s already kissed him, been kissed by him, and bit a man for him.

Speaking of… Ravus doesn’t switch his gaze, but he does speak in that gentler tone he prefers when not playing the High Commander. “I am curious though. You said once you’d had your charms. Was that back there part of them?” Not necessarily the biting people part, but the protective, possessive edge.

"I know how to get that out," he offers, which- Of course, he knows how to wash out blood. That can't even be a surprise.

He wishes he could promise he'd do whatever possible to prove that he deserved that chance. Wishing never got him very far though, honestly. He's also not in the habit of giving promises that aren't hollow. Still, there is some part of him that does hope he doesn't make Ravus regret giving him this second chance... and a dragon in his brain smacking him with the mental equivalent of a wet noodle at nearly every turn to try and ensure it as well.

"Oh, well," he starts, back to his faux exaggerated humility. "To some, maybe." Aera didn't often need his protecting. In fact, it was usually him who found protection in her during his darker times. He only regretted it in the end when she protected him one final time; he was her undoing, in so many ways but that's one he'll never truly forgive himself for. So, now maybe he over corrected and battles fiercely for those he wants to. And for a long time, the only person he wanted to fight for was himself.

The nudge of fingers against his palm is a silent, pleasant thing for him. He responds in kind by not only allowing but lacing his own fingers lightly against Ravus'. It is a bit unnerving, he knows, and uncertain. For as demonstrative and commanding as he could be when necessary, well... It is easier to be led like this than anything.

"Being prone to passionate fits of emotion isn't always charming, but when it is- It apparently really is." At least he has that going for him somehow.

Ravus nods. While fastidious, he's always mitigated blood stains on his typical white Tenebraen raiment by simply maintaining the leather's coating, or in various armor that could simply be washed down. His furs in Niflheim rarely saw combat. After all, none had ever breached the dark crater that housed the capital in anything but small, insignificant numbers. And while he'd trained under Drautos, he'd never been allowed the colors of Tenebrae. Not until he'd well earned his place among the higher officers. Black and red easily hid blood.

More importantly though, Ardyn takes the offer to hold his hand. Ravus is just glad to be slightly ahead of him so perhaps the deep flush that colors his cheeks isn't so obvious at this angle. Really, it shouldn't effect him so much, but it's these small, sweet gestures that strike him so effectively. Ravus is a man of grand romance, all culminations of such tender gestures. It's hard not to be moved by them, swept up in something as soft as holding hands.

"I don't mind," Ravus says about the emotional outbursts. He's always been a man ruled by his heart, not matter how much he's tried to close it off. How could he ever judge someone for acting so powerfully on their own hearts too? Everything he's ever done in life has been a labor of love, after all. It's not always worked out, but none could ever accuse Ravus of being untrue or dishonest to his feelings. What he loves, he will die for. And what he hates, he will kill for. Simple extremes. He can appreciate Ardyn's too, he thinks.

"While I encourage you not to have us banned from most of the town... I... It did feel nice to be defended. I've not considered what it might be like to be on the receiving end of it before. So, yes, I'll consider it charming. I think you should as well." Ravus glances to him with a bit of a wry slant to his lips, and yes, still a bit of that blush as well.

It isn't as obvious, no, but it's obvious to please Ardyn once he catches that hint of red. Desire was one mortal indulgence that he may be realizing he missed more than he wanted to admit during all that transpired back on Eos. It's still something he's getting used to feeling again, honestly, and what it all might mean in the long-term.

Or if it means anything. He doesn't want to get his hopes too high up there, naturally, after a lifetime of disappointment. Against his better judgement though, he does take this as a good thing. And against his even better judgement, he does wonder what it might mean for their future. When was the last time he even considered a future beyond what was planned? Hm.

"Well, that's reassuring since... I can't promise it won't happen again." He wouldn't want it to either, admittedly, but can't say that. "Though I can try and avoid it happening in a crowded bar going forward." Even if Ravus did enjoy being defended, Ardyn can acknowledge that wasn't completely defense of the other man as it was partly his own pride. So it's a bit more difficult to consider it 'charming' still, but- He can appreciate the effort for it to be framed as such.

"And while I know you're more than capable of defending yourself, never be afraid to call on me to again if necessary."

For Ravus, there isn’t really a ceiling for something like hope. He’s had to pretend it can’t exist when fighting a millennium of damning prophecy in the hopes of saving his sister in just the span of their mortal lives. So he doesn’t really consider where Ardyn is placing his own bets, even when he rebukes the idea of promising things. He takes it as honesty instead of disparaging caution. If that damns either of them later, the thought doesn’t cross him.

“I’m still getting used to having anyone to call upon. Forgive me if it doesn't come naturally,” he says shrugging the mechanical shoulder. But he’s asked Ardyn for his honest effort, so Ravus thinks it only fair to do the same. “Though you seem content to thrive in chaos, so perhaps I will do so more often, if only to provide enrichment.”

Is he teasing? Maybe. Ravus’ tone is as serious and staunch as ever where anyone else would have probably lightened their tone, or at least cracked a good-natured smile. He gives no other indication to it as they walk, and simply picks a traveller's lodge that looks relatively clean. Cleaner than the rest of the dusty lodgings down this alley, anyway. And ruby red roses hang from the sign, which attracts him more than anything else.

“It’s much too late in the evening to be walking back to Town. I figure we can leave in the morning when there’s ample light.” He says as much as they approach the building. It’s odd though. They rent rooms by the hour rather than by the night here, and that visibly confuses Ravus. The keeper at the door arches a brow, looking between the pair like it should be obvious, but when Ravu’s stern expression doesn’t budge, she simply sighs and books them until morning. Maybe this world does things differently, it’s all Ravus can really imagine as they’re brought to a room.

Which is barely lit, and that also confuses him. It’s tinted warm and dark, with even the curtains already being drawn despite that fact the sun is still only setting. The heavy drapes certainly don’t look as if they’re meant to let one enjoy any outside light. The focal point of the room is clearly the ornate and broad bed, with little else in the way of furniture. The whole thing strikes Ravus as odd, but he doesn’t know why.

The woman bids them a good evening, leaving them alone, as Ravus sits himself on the edge of the bed with a confused tilt of his head.

“I cannot tell if it’s this town, or this entire world, that is quite so strange.”

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