teen_angst
New Member
This is a fun little story I've been working on; please give me feedback if you have any! It sustains me and makes writing so much easier haha. I just finished this chapter, and I'm going to spend the rest of the night working on the next one as well as the outline for the story. Hopefully I don't burn out but who knows ;o
Her feet sank deep into the dirt as she struggled against the heavy oaken door, which groaned in protest as it slowly gave way on its old, rusty hinges. She doubled her efforts, pressing her whole weight into the door; it popped open, and she was struck by a wave of warm air that wrapped around her and drew her inside. The atmosphere was thick with the smell of fresh bread- lightly sizzling- and the sound of gentle music- lightly swung. The tavern was modest, with well made, but bare wooden tables and chairs; it was dimly lit by lanterns on the edge of the tables, and a roaring fire place set in the back of the room, behind the musicians. A single window set in the east wall provided a view to the ocean outside- and sitting just beneath the window, tucked away in the quiet corner booth, was the man she was here to see.
She stepped down the stairs, weaving between puddles of ale. After only a few steps, she was immersed in the crowd, surrounded by hearty conversation and merriment. Head spinning, she bounced between patrons and pushed her way through the meandering throng towards the opposite corner of the room. Mead and ale splashed onto the floor next to her as some of the town’s militia clapped their tankards together in celebration, rising to their feet as they drunkenly chanted “Victory!” and laughed over tales of combat and bravery.
She narrowly avoided crashing into one of the men as he rose, instead stepping back to bump into the fiddler, who angrily shoved her towards the corner of the room. She briefly looked down at her black woolen trousers- soaked with mead from the ankles down- and grimaced as she felt her stockings squish within her leather boots.
Taking barely a moment to catch her breath, she looked up to find the man of the hour, sitting in the booth just in front of her. For the way he described himself, he was dressed rather drab- he wore a leather tunic, much like a blacksmith, over a blue wool shirt and simple black trousers, much like her own. His face was rough, perhaps weathered from years travelling, and she could see years of thick callouses on his hand as he raised it in greeting.
She slid into the seat across from him, noticing it was considerably quieter in this booth as she sat down.
“You’re the one looking for mage. What do you need?” She asked, studying the booth, looking for runes. A simple series caught her eye, on the back of the lantern- a quick inscription that made the booth more quiet. Had he done that?
“I- well, that’s quite forward of you...”
“Vivian. Vivian Senevin - rune mage.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, and extended her arm towards him.
After pausing for a moment, he took her arm by the wrist, and shook it.
“Jack Conron, adventurer, sailor, businessman, visionary, an-”
“-and what is it that you’re hiring me for?” She asked, resting her chin on the back of her hand, studying him. The corners of his lips- which barely moved while he talked- had short, thin lines running up towards his ears, as though his face was permanently caught in some sort of sly smile. This mirage was perpetuated by his eyes, which had a mischievous look about them.
He sighed, looking down at the table. There was a scar across the top of his head, causing a slight break in his thick black hair. Suddenly, he looked up, “Listen- to be frank, I’m going on a journey across the world to find Glass.”
“Glass?” Vivian paused, then tossed her head back in laughter. After several moments of silence she stopped laughing, and dropped her gaze to meet his stony expression. “Wait, you really believe in that stuff?” Her expression softened and slowly shifted into a visage of mild pity, the same way one might look at a child that’s just bumped into something.
Expression blank, Jack simply shrugged, drawing circles into the table with his fingers. People always laughed at him when he talked about glass. He had a strong feeling she’d come around, though. “Have you heard of Yandris?” His voice barely reached her at first, as though something was caught in his throat.
“Who hasn’t?” Her lips curved in an almost mocking expression. He was wasting her time.
“You’d be surprised. Anyhow- they say it’s full of amazing sights, and rare tastes, that the people are rich and splendid, their bellies full and minds caught up on their next fancy.” He paused, his eyes and hands still running across the smooth table. “I want that kind of life. I want to grab hold of it with both of my hands and never let go-”
“-so how are you going to do it?” Her words overlapped his, pushing him to get to the point.
“Get into Yandris, you mean?”
She nodded.
“Well, I’m going to find glass,” Jack said, “I know it’s out there. And once I’ve made my discovery, I’ll have plenty of money and renown to be able to get into Yandris.”
“So you’re looking for a skilled mage like me- to follow someone like you- around the globe, chasing some imaginary substance, all for a beggar’s promise of one day getting into Yandris?”
He stopped abruptly and looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Listen. You’re overcomplicating things. It’s pretty simple when you think about it. You’re either in, or you’re out. Are you coming? Or are you going to stay here a while longer, in eternal mediocrity?” He almost yelled the last word, and stuck his arms out to the side, gesturing wildly to nothing- he truly looked as though he’d lost his mind.
“Mediocrity suits me quite fine, most days.”
“Then you’re no mage.” Jack shrugged.
“And you’re insane.” Vivian said, patronizing him with her smile.
“Exceptional and insane, mind you.”
“Exceptionally insane.”
“You know, you’d have left already if you weren’t interested.” After a brief pause, he continued. “Am I wrong?”
“Sorry, exceptionally insane and delusional.”
“Then why stay?”
“I feel almost as though I’m entertained by you.”
“With the way you came in here, if you really felt like I was wasting your time, you’d have blown me off so fast that I’d have spun around.”
To this, Vivian shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“You’ve always wanted adventure, haven’t you?” His voice was tempered with determination; it was an accusation more than a question.
She cocked her head to the side, considering him in a different light. There was something different about this guy, but she couldn’t quite pin it down. She stared a hole through the center of his head as the music died down and faded into the background. As she thought about his offer, her vision lost focus, and her heart rampaged in her chest like an animal trying to break free of its cage.
The two sat there for a few minutes, in silence, simply staring at each other.
She was debating with herself, measuring the benefits and risks, trying to find some way to rationalize her decision.
He was thinking about what he’d say to a group of pirates if, well, when they stopped his ship.
She was trying to dig up some logic within herself for the way she felt- anything to validate the raw compulsion she felt towards action.
He was bribing port officials in his mind, walking onto the docks of foreign isles covered from head to toes in riches- before promptly being chased off the island by locals, and sailing away as if nothing had happened.
Before she knew it, her jumbled thoughts became words and tumbled out, falling in front of her onto the table, before bouncing off and hitting him square in the middle of the head. “I’ll do it.”
His head rocked back in relief as he let out a long, mildly stressed breath. “Pleasure to have you aboard.” He said, holding out his hand.
"But I expect steady payment throughout, and if you fail to provide, I'll be on the first boat headed back to Tremir."
"That can be arranged." Jack spoke through gritted teeth, and pushed his hand slightly further forward, as if pleading her to stop the negotiations.
Vivian took his hand and shook it, smiling weakly.
I’m a lunatic. She thought.
He rolled his neck and stood up, resting one hand on the table, his back to her. “It’s decided then! We sail early in the morning- at dock 3, near Thornton’s butchery block, you know the place? You’d better sleep well, by the way, I hear the journey’s not easy this time of year.” And with that, he disappeared into the throng of other patrons, becoming just another silhouette among countless shadows.
She flopped her head onto the table, holding up the hand-sign for ‘one flagon’ on the off chance a waiter passed by.
The drink did not make her feel any better.
YANDRIS
Her feet sank deep into the dirt as she struggled against the heavy oaken door, which groaned in protest as it slowly gave way on its old, rusty hinges. She doubled her efforts, pressing her whole weight into the door; it popped open, and she was struck by a wave of warm air that wrapped around her and drew her inside. The atmosphere was thick with the smell of fresh bread- lightly sizzling- and the sound of gentle music- lightly swung. The tavern was modest, with well made, but bare wooden tables and chairs; it was dimly lit by lanterns on the edge of the tables, and a roaring fire place set in the back of the room, behind the musicians. A single window set in the east wall provided a view to the ocean outside- and sitting just beneath the window, tucked away in the quiet corner booth, was the man she was here to see.
She stepped down the stairs, weaving between puddles of ale. After only a few steps, she was immersed in the crowd, surrounded by hearty conversation and merriment. Head spinning, she bounced between patrons and pushed her way through the meandering throng towards the opposite corner of the room. Mead and ale splashed onto the floor next to her as some of the town’s militia clapped their tankards together in celebration, rising to their feet as they drunkenly chanted “Victory!” and laughed over tales of combat and bravery.
She narrowly avoided crashing into one of the men as he rose, instead stepping back to bump into the fiddler, who angrily shoved her towards the corner of the room. She briefly looked down at her black woolen trousers- soaked with mead from the ankles down- and grimaced as she felt her stockings squish within her leather boots.
Taking barely a moment to catch her breath, she looked up to find the man of the hour, sitting in the booth just in front of her. For the way he described himself, he was dressed rather drab- he wore a leather tunic, much like a blacksmith, over a blue wool shirt and simple black trousers, much like her own. His face was rough, perhaps weathered from years travelling, and she could see years of thick callouses on his hand as he raised it in greeting.
She slid into the seat across from him, noticing it was considerably quieter in this booth as she sat down.
“You’re the one looking for mage. What do you need?” She asked, studying the booth, looking for runes. A simple series caught her eye, on the back of the lantern- a quick inscription that made the booth more quiet. Had he done that?
“I- well, that’s quite forward of you...”
“Vivian. Vivian Senevin - rune mage.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, and extended her arm towards him.
After pausing for a moment, he took her arm by the wrist, and shook it.
“Jack Conron, adventurer, sailor, businessman, visionary, an-”
“-and what is it that you’re hiring me for?” She asked, resting her chin on the back of her hand, studying him. The corners of his lips- which barely moved while he talked- had short, thin lines running up towards his ears, as though his face was permanently caught in some sort of sly smile. This mirage was perpetuated by his eyes, which had a mischievous look about them.
He sighed, looking down at the table. There was a scar across the top of his head, causing a slight break in his thick black hair. Suddenly, he looked up, “Listen- to be frank, I’m going on a journey across the world to find Glass.”
“Glass?” Vivian paused, then tossed her head back in laughter. After several moments of silence she stopped laughing, and dropped her gaze to meet his stony expression. “Wait, you really believe in that stuff?” Her expression softened and slowly shifted into a visage of mild pity, the same way one might look at a child that’s just bumped into something.
Expression blank, Jack simply shrugged, drawing circles into the table with his fingers. People always laughed at him when he talked about glass. He had a strong feeling she’d come around, though. “Have you heard of Yandris?” His voice barely reached her at first, as though something was caught in his throat.
“Who hasn’t?” Her lips curved in an almost mocking expression. He was wasting her time.
“You’d be surprised. Anyhow- they say it’s full of amazing sights, and rare tastes, that the people are rich and splendid, their bellies full and minds caught up on their next fancy.” He paused, his eyes and hands still running across the smooth table. “I want that kind of life. I want to grab hold of it with both of my hands and never let go-”
“-so how are you going to do it?” Her words overlapped his, pushing him to get to the point.
“Get into Yandris, you mean?”
She nodded.
“Well, I’m going to find glass,” Jack said, “I know it’s out there. And once I’ve made my discovery, I’ll have plenty of money and renown to be able to get into Yandris.”
“So you’re looking for a skilled mage like me- to follow someone like you- around the globe, chasing some imaginary substance, all for a beggar’s promise of one day getting into Yandris?”
He stopped abruptly and looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Listen. You’re overcomplicating things. It’s pretty simple when you think about it. You’re either in, or you’re out. Are you coming? Or are you going to stay here a while longer, in eternal mediocrity?” He almost yelled the last word, and stuck his arms out to the side, gesturing wildly to nothing- he truly looked as though he’d lost his mind.
“Mediocrity suits me quite fine, most days.”
“Then you’re no mage.” Jack shrugged.
“And you’re insane.” Vivian said, patronizing him with her smile.
“Exceptional and insane, mind you.”
“Exceptionally insane.”
“You know, you’d have left already if you weren’t interested.” After a brief pause, he continued. “Am I wrong?”
“Sorry, exceptionally insane and delusional.”
“Then why stay?”
“I feel almost as though I’m entertained by you.”
“With the way you came in here, if you really felt like I was wasting your time, you’d have blown me off so fast that I’d have spun around.”
To this, Vivian shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“You’ve always wanted adventure, haven’t you?” His voice was tempered with determination; it was an accusation more than a question.
She cocked her head to the side, considering him in a different light. There was something different about this guy, but she couldn’t quite pin it down. She stared a hole through the center of his head as the music died down and faded into the background. As she thought about his offer, her vision lost focus, and her heart rampaged in her chest like an animal trying to break free of its cage.
The two sat there for a few minutes, in silence, simply staring at each other.
She was debating with herself, measuring the benefits and risks, trying to find some way to rationalize her decision.
He was thinking about what he’d say to a group of pirates if, well, when they stopped his ship.
She was trying to dig up some logic within herself for the way she felt- anything to validate the raw compulsion she felt towards action.
He was bribing port officials in his mind, walking onto the docks of foreign isles covered from head to toes in riches- before promptly being chased off the island by locals, and sailing away as if nothing had happened.
Before she knew it, her jumbled thoughts became words and tumbled out, falling in front of her onto the table, before bouncing off and hitting him square in the middle of the head. “I’ll do it.”
His head rocked back in relief as he let out a long, mildly stressed breath. “Pleasure to have you aboard.” He said, holding out his hand.
"But I expect steady payment throughout, and if you fail to provide, I'll be on the first boat headed back to Tremir."
"That can be arranged." Jack spoke through gritted teeth, and pushed his hand slightly further forward, as if pleading her to stop the negotiations.
Vivian took his hand and shook it, smiling weakly.
I’m a lunatic. She thought.
He rolled his neck and stood up, resting one hand on the table, his back to her. “It’s decided then! We sail early in the morning- at dock 3, near Thornton’s butchery block, you know the place? You’d better sleep well, by the way, I hear the journey’s not easy this time of year.” And with that, he disappeared into the throng of other patrons, becoming just another silhouette among countless shadows.
She flopped her head onto the table, holding up the hand-sign for ‘one flagon’ on the off chance a waiter passed by.
The drink did not make her feel any better.
. Seriously, thank you so much! I'll be sure to let you know when I've written the next portion.
