The Tavern

[relentless]

Duval groaned out of displeasure as they were leaving... for a sermon.

A fucking sermon...
He thought, distaste clearly shown on his face. If he were going... he'd be taking a couple extras.

"Alright alright, I'll be there in a jiffy. Wait wait.."
Duval says as he pops up from his seat and walks to the front  of the table, taking the two glasses and the bottle of rum, stashing the bottle in a seperate, interior pocket, barely fitting in, whilst the other glasses were stashed into his big pockets. A show of religious decorum, it was funny to Duval... so why not make it funnier with a fine beveridge on the side.

Walking up to George, he patted him on the back and walked past, only to pivot around and pull open his overcoat as if he were flashing him. Though he was simply showing the bottle of rum.

"So? Let's go and be all humble... maybe I can confess to Grace inside the confessional box..~"
Duval tittered jovially as he span back around, and made to exit the tavern.
[Duval exits the tavern, walking to the Abbey with George.]

[black379]

Though she had no love for the church, Courcy was wounded by Brenton's pretentious sympathy as he preached against religious hypocrisy.
'How tragic.'
The doctor's perverse condolences infuriated her. She wrung her hands together and glared at him as though she could ignite him in a pillar of fire with her cold eyes.
"Don't play like you give a damn about me. You have no idea what I've lived! I couldn't care less about anyone who'd go to hear her, Grace is the wretched one! My lover had faith. You're not worthy to know his name."

[Shinzon]

It was through the backdoor of the Tavern that Maria entered, shivering under her robes, although the weather was not the reason. Already she received glances from her... "colleagues"... if she could call them like this. Another batch preparing, for yet another go in the Tavern's Brothel. Already did she slowly remove her medicae robes, another woman wordlessly giving her her "piece", as they called the articles of clothing of the foul place. She was registered among the "active" harlots, and she went to wait with the others.

All were silent. Most of them were drinking and smoking, gazes lost in the distance. A few of them, often the youngest and most naive, tried to perfect their appearance with what little supplies they had at their disposition, obviously desperately hoping for a tip they would probably never get. The order from lady Scarlet came minutes later, and they went up the stairs, crossing those who had just finished their shift, eyes trained on the floor or focused on nothing in particular. Swallowing, the former Vestal did her best to fight the rising terror withing her.
Each time she was desperate enough to fall on this, she died a little inside.
"Mother, please forgive me", she whispered quietly to herself, fighting back the tears that threatened to form in her eyes.

[Mr. Swagwalker]

Courcy's annihalating gaze was severely intimidating to Edgar and he visably cowered at the sight. But the fierce stare dissapeared in the abyss that was Brenton's goggles. "Perhaps I don't, Courcy. But I wasn't asking for it, either." he responded calmly and crossed his arms.
"And I reckon you wouldn't tell me within a hundred years. But you are mistaken; I do care. Someone has been murdered, and nobody seems to notice or care. I find that rather conserning." Brenton moistured his dry lips with his tongue for a brief moment.

"Aside from that, I am also conserned for your emotional well-being. It would be an understatement to say that you are troubled by all this. Please do remember what our good friend Tilly told you: to get some rest. Too much stress can mentally strain you.

You should save your strength for what lurks in that Cove. It is more needed there."

[black379]

The hellion finally let her angry glare falter and she sighed heavily. Brenton was oblivious to how things worked in this damned place.
"No one does care. We're on our own, to fend for ourselves."
Courcy sank in the seat before standing up from it. She was tired, but she could not be comfortable there, especially with her abrading conversation with the man. She wondered if she could escape to Blood's tavern room, despite the reparations Tilly mentioned.
"Then, excuse me. So I may sleep."
She grabbed up her things and started in the direction of the stairs, paying little mind to Brenton or Edgar. Once she made it up the stairs, it wasn't too difficult to find Blood's room. The door had been completely unhinged, and the wafting fragrance of incense hung heavy in the air.
Entering slowly, she ambled toward the bed, only to find a strange girl lying there asleep. Courcy furrowed her brows and raised the end of her halberd to prod Ellie's side.
"Hey! Just 'cause the door's gone doesn't make it free."

[The Carrying Blade]

Ellie was startled awake by Courcy's prodding, enough so that the sudden rush got her moving. She groaned as she moved to sit up though, the sudden rush not getting rid of her grogginess sadly. She batted away the end of the Halberd with annoyance, looking up at Courcy through strands of hair with tired but angry eyes.

"Hey, I'm allowed to be in here, owner of this room said so. Who are you anyway to be in here then?" Ellie asked grumpily wiping sleep from her eyes.

[Kidney]

The door of the Tavern swung open, and immediately from it came the voice of a singer. A man, everyone could tell, and playing a lute. "-nd the taste of his blood on his tongue."
Rings came from the bells attacked to his feet, and his chin held high in the air as he walked with confidence. He slowly circled as he walked, brown eyes surveying the patrons and strange folk throughout the place. He struck up a high chord, fingers gliding gracefully across the neck of the lute, projecting his vocal tones outwards. "His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer, and he smiled and he laughed and he sung!" His notes were well placed and his voice rang across the Tavern, and now he placed his back against the bar between two gentleman. He swung his head to look them both in the pupils, continuing his song, pulling the pick across his strings. " 'Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done, the Spaniard's taken my life!" He drove out a tone on the lute, a bright tone coupled with the lowest, not very melodious but meant to convey the dual emotions of the scene he played this song to in his mind.  
He kicked up his feet like rooster looking for whorehens, ringing out his bells and strutting to the middle of the Tavern floor. "But what does it matter, for all men must die, and I've tasted the Spaniard's wife!"
He strung a chord across all strings, a strong end for a lewd lyric, and looked about the Tavern for the applause to begin.

[rumsztyk]

George basically tossed them both inside the Tavern.

"Figure of speech, Duval! The last thing I'd see you do is shitting under yourself on a throne. Now, to be fair..." George caressed his golden mane. "I'm about as royal as you can get in this shithole. Free drinks!"

"Now, where were we..." he inspected the bottle. It was empty, he noticed with a frown. "Hook! Another one of those..."

[black379]

"Bullshit, now scram!"
Courcy pulled the bed sheet away from Ellie and flicked her wrist to shoo the girl away. She had never seen the woman before, and Blood never mentioned his bed would already be taken. She could only rationalize that a scamp had sneaked in for a nap, or perhaps the ex-lord had failed to mention a working woman was waiting on him.
"What's his name, Hrm?? If you know him?"
The hellion continued trying to force the girl from the room. Though in her mind, she reconsidered staying there herself.

[The Carrying Blade]

"Blood, runs the bath house, long black hair with a red cloak. Has a red gemmed amulet around his neck, and has a spear. He even gave me a key to get in if he wasn't here, sadly someone broke down the door so I can't show you it works." Ellie said sternly, not moving from her spot on the bed.

But, for the moment after, Ellie relented her attitude a little as she realized this person knew Blood too and maybe even saw him recently. "Have.... Have you seen him recently? I haven't seen him since the Abbey fire, told me to leave while he went to find someone he thought might still be in the Abbey. Florence I think it was." She asked, her tone having changed considerably as it was actually worriedly curious compared to her snotty one before.

[black379]

She glared at Ellie with a furrowed brow as she proved to know Blood after all. Crossing her arms, Courcy ceased her attempts to shoo the girl away. She had wondered if the erstwhile lord was perhaps too comfortable with his duty of bathing women - he promised comfort to Lavinia, confidentiality to Courcy, and his own room and bed to a stranger.
Courcy shook the thought from her head and turned her shoulder to Ellie.
"I saw him earlier. He was supposed to be back by now. He's different since then, y'know? He-"
She wouldn't betray his trust for this. Courcy still needed him, one of the few people she could be honest with, and at least had a pretense of concern for her.

[The Carrying Blade]

"It has been almost a good year, I would be surprised if he hasn't changed. I mean, this place is just that bad you know? Almost everyone I've known has either died or disappeared, Blood is one of the few I know that are still here. And someone named Duval, have you met him yet? Smug look, bad smelling cologne, huge flirt?" Ellie prattled on, not having someone to really talk to casually lately, just the fact this was probably a friend of Blood opened her up a little. It didn't even matter that Courcy was acting grumpy, and she didn't even question what she meant by Blood being changed.

[Mr. Swagwalker]

Edgar's pupils shrunk when Courcy made her melancholic statement.

No one does care.
We're on our own, to fend for ourselves.

So was this the truth about this place? Was this Hamlet nothing more but a den of selfish, uncaring criminals who look out for only themselves, even if others are suffering around them?
Was this the place he had been trapped in?

...No. he thought sternly. In an uncommon moment of determination he rejected this idea that Courcy had suggested. Had he been told this earlier then he might have believed it. But from his own experience he could tell that this was far from the case.
People did care. Tilly showed him kindness and compassion at first meeting. Leoman had offered him food and was willing to go to extreme lengths to protect him from Brenton's grip of iron - even if he had been a complete stranger. Courcy who had backed Tilly up once Brenton had attempted to intimidate them into doing his bidding. If they were all selfish, then why would they do what they did? They would gain no benefit - Leoman even gained the opposite. Edgar knew why now.
Even in a place like this there are still people who are willing to stand up for others. There was still compassion left in these denizens. The thought was reassuring and it gave Edgar some hope. And at last, he could keep this hope up for much longer than previously.
He thought back to the moment where both Tilly and Courcy refused to oblige by Brenton's rushed and selfish terms. It was proof that as long as companionship and courage remained, then tyranny would not triumph and instead be brought to its knees.

"An excellent suggestion." Brenton said with an approving nod as Courcy set off to leave. "Sweetest of dreams to you! You may need it for the coming horrors."

And so, he was completely alone once more. True, Edgar was still by his side as usual, but the scrawny man could hardly be considered company to Brenton. More of a necessary burden than anything.

This was the second time he had been robbed of both his companions in the making and his opportunity to go through the expidition at the same time. The doctor quietly grumbled and once again began to rythmically drum his fingers against the wooden surface currently in front of him - this time being the counter instead of a table. 
Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.
Brenton's inactivity was beginning to drive him mad; one slowly passing second at a time. There was nothing he could do, nobody to speak or plan with. There was nothing but wasted time for Brenton.

But then he heard the tavern door open, and then the sound of music playing. A finely-tuned lute accompanied by small bells and a male vocal. He looked over his shoulder to see a peculiar man, who looked to be a jester or actor of sorts, entering the tavern and playing his lute as skillfully as a knight with a longsword. The explosion of different shades of blue mixed with contrasting white dots, as well as the stylish mask, was indeed a very strange choice of attire. But it was still a welcomed sight to Brenton. He would rather see someone strange than the present drunkards giving sceptical glares. Thank goodness. A distraction from the fleeting time.

Sadly the entertainment did not last as long as he had wanted, but he had still enjoyed the melody none the less. The song finished and the musician looked over the tavern. Brenton knew what he was waiting for, and in a display that was rather rare for the usually cynical doctor he decided to openly show his appreciation for the newcomer. He spun around on his stool, facing Hugo, and began to clap his hands with delight. So far he seemed to be the only one applauding out of the crowd. 
"Bravo, bravo! An astounding display, good sir!" he cheered with a wide grin, caring little for the otherwise awkward sound of his gloves hitting eachother.

Edgar visably flinched once the tavern's door had been forced open and the loud singing had started. He turned around, also seeing Hugo playing away at his lute, and was quite frankly very confused at first. Who was this man? Was it a newcomer like him, or someone who had always been part of this place? From the looks of it the man did not seem so bad - only a musician who was enjoying himself. Even if it was rather loud to Edgar he didn't mind it. He couldn't judge someone for enjoying life their own way. It was far more than he could say for himself in his current position, so to feel spite towards merry people would feel low. The last thing he wanted was for more people to experience depression. One was enough for today.

[rumsztyk]

Ibrahim grimaced; the loud singing was not unpleasant per-se[/]; however, it proved increasingly difficult to focus on his lecture. Finally, he resigned - ordering a cup of wine, the scholar relaxed, but still kept Xuul in check. It was, truthfully, the ectent of leisure he would allow himself.

[Kidney]

One clap, that was all he needed.
Hugo snickered, looking towards the only one clapping at the moment. A survey of his garb revealed close to nothing, but the chained figure near him brought insight to him. A slave, probably. Hugo's mind flushed with both questions and sick thoughts, after all, one could do anything they wanted with what they bought.
He was a little disappointed by the crowd, a depressed lot not reacting to his music very much. 
I have the perfect song for this.
He raised his foot into the air, the bell rang once. He slammed it down into the wood, it rang again with the thud of a bass. He decided to start interacting with the crowd, and so, he started to make music with his hands. Clap.Clapclap. Clap. Clapclap.
Some patrons caught on, in the beginnings of drunken fun before they fell into the groggy stupor other men seemed to hit pretty quickly. Hugo began to shout, a prelude to a tavern song, "Drink! Drink 'till your liver dries up!"
He joined the beat, "A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All black and brown 'n covered with hair!"
His lute was strapped to his chest by a twine string, and so he slid the lute across his back, jumped and spun, clicking his heels together. A ring, pleasant and hitting after "hair" rang from his bells. "And damn, that big bear had a good flair!"
He turned again, continuing the clapping, "Oh come they said, come to the fair!"