Reading in the Rec Room
Salamandastron: Recreation Room
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The recreation room for the army of the Longpatrol. Here soldiers come to
relax after a hard day's work and the officers come for a game of cards or
a quick drink by the fire. The room is quite large, having to deal with a
lot of hares at one time. Along one wall there is a large worktop with
some cuhsioned stools lining one side of it. On the other side of the
worktop there stand many kegs and bottles, lined so that they can be
easily opened by someone standing on the inside of the bar but well out of
reach of the rowdy hares on the other side. There are a few woollen cloths
on the bar and mats in front of each stool. The next thing nearest to the
bar are the round tables, each with 4 chairs around and a lantern in the
middle of each one. There are a couple of slightly larger oval tables with
8 seats around, obviously for larger crowds. The other end of the room is
littered with armchairs, comfortable armchairs, each pair with a small
table in between. The armchairs are near the fire, used to heat the room
and provide extra comfort for the relaxing soldiers.
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Visible Exits:
[Out]
The evening happy hour in the recroom has come and gone, and with it the crowd. This is Cyril's favorite time to drop by, the young buck being something of a night owl. The glass beside him is not alcoholic, rather one full of soda-water, the bubbles clinging to the sides of the glass as he picks it up to take a swallow. Sitting alone at one of the small cornertables he muses over a small leatherbound book, almost like a journal.. the pages are done in scrawl, with little diagrams drawn here and there. Dipping his claw into a thimble of ink he adds another few words beneath the drawing of a small star. The buck frowns, then smiles, then reaches to take a drink.
Sid's neither frowning nor smiling, and definitely not switching between the two quite so fast. He rubs at the side of his face as he enters, looking worn-out, maybe kind of mellow. His muzzle opens in a brief yawn and he goes up to the counter, a few feet down from Cyril, and leans his forearms into it as the 'tender comes over. "Just an ale," he mutters with a mild grin, "nice and cold."
Cyril welcomes interruption. But in any case, Sid does not interrupt him, not really, he's just another transient moving in and out of the bar. The hare turns his head to the left, surveying the tired-looking fighter with his eye... and seems to consider, before looking a little more closely, bringing his right eye, the one behind the diamond into play. Cyril's brow raises just a shade as his eyes seem to trace the air around Sid rather than look at him directly... the fighter's light is very strange. "You must be tired," ventures the younger buck.
Sid glances over at Cyril, leaning into the bar still with his head a little ducked, bangs hanging down and muzzle forming a bit of a grin. "You could say that," he mutters, and shrugs his shoulders, then reaches for his drink when it's brought over with a grateful sigh.
You could say something about the kind of people who occupy these bars late at night, because Cyril might fit that kinda stereotype. Who knows. Rather than speak over at Sid, the softspoken buck picks up his drink and his book and steps over, to sit lightly beside Sidney. That eye, staring out of its diamond, flicks quickly over the fighter. "Did you lose something?" he asks, quietly.
Sid's ears drop back, his brows slightly furrowed at the question. He brings up his mug in both hands for a swallow of his ale, and perches on a stool as well. ".. did I? Not that I know of," he responds with a low chuckle.
"Oh," replies Cyril, looking a little befuddled for a moment. He picks up his soda-water and takes a drink to calm his stomach, removing his eyes from Sidney for the moment. "Your aura is very complex," he muses, mostly to himself, having flipped open his well-worn book to one specific handwritten page. Literally handwritten, judging by the claw-writing he was doing earlier. On the page is a rough outline of a hare surrounded by stars of different colors, each with a scrawled label.
Sid takes another large swallow of his drink, then snorts as he finishes. This ends with a small cough and he gives Cyril more of a questioning look. "... my what?" His eyes cast across the other buck's face, then down to the book. He can't help it, he leans in a little and peers at the scrawled words with curiosity.
"Sorry," replies Cyril, his small smile a sympathetic one. He often forgets that your average hare cannot see the light. "Your aura, your light." The buck blinks his right eye, the one surrounded by the diamond tattoo, and then looks back to his book. "Most people it's mostly one color, yours is all swirly. I see a lot of conviviality," he says, touching the yellow star on his page. "Which might be why you're entertaining what I'm saying." The quiet voice is accompanied by another grin. "But I see some purple, which I usually associate with loss."
"... light. Okay." Sid tilts his head, but he only seems.. just a little skeptical. He flicks his attention between Cyril's face and the book a few times, then leans over at the mention of his.. color. To peek at what it says next to that color on the page. "Loss? ... does this apply to something other than misplacing my best belt? 'cause I haven't done that in a while."
"It could mean anything," muses the buck. "Like I said, you're all a-swirl, so it's hard for me to say." The buck flips a page, then another, then another.. each subsequent page has a large version of the colored star, with a lot of small scrawls around and beneath them. Specific colors, probably. "They can have different shades." But the younger buck shrugs, his two-tone face turning up once again to Sid. "I could be wrong, I guess." But he sounds doubtful of that!
"Well, if nothing else, 'aswirl' isn't something I've been called before." Sid's grinning a bit, mug in hand as he shifts over sideways on his stool, to get closer to Cyril and his curious book. The buck props an elbow on the bar, making a curious 'mm' in the back of his throat. "Well. What else's it saying?"
"You probably aren't always.. a-swirl," murmurs Cyril, getting a little aware that Sidney is leaning in closer to him and his precious work, his book. "There is also brown, which is concern.." He looks toward Sid's paw, watching the coruscating light upon it, that only he can see. "Concern for a friend, perhaps," he muses, his eyes now upon his book, but he doesn't really /need/ to consult it.. seeing as he wrote it. It's more like a guide.
".. brown and purple?" Not a great combination! Sid makes a face, and shakes his head slightly with a huff of amusement. He reaches gingerly to flip a page of Cyril's book. "Pretty accurate so far, though it's not like I'm a hard guy to read.. swirly aura or not."
"They are bad colors for a reason," replies Cyril, his smile faint. "They aren't supposed to mix." Really Sid is just all like, bright yellow, which is kinda like staring at a child's drawing of the sun done in pale crayon. So he tries to avoid looking directly at the fighter. "I'm not reading you," he says, sounding faintly amused. "What do you think I am, a hack seer?" No, Cy has Talent.
".. you're telling me things about my current.. demeanor... by use of colorful lights swirling around me that are invisible to everyone else." Sid grins as he states it. "... if you're not reading me, what /are/ you doing?"
"Viewing your aura," he says, simply, closing the book so it rests on the bar. The cover is unadorned. "Reading is taking cues from a person and sounding like you're making some wild predictions." The buck frowns. "Sounds hypocritical I guess. But it's what I do." The right eye of his has slipped closed as he sips his water.
"Okay, okay.. fair enough," Sid says with a small shrug, sitting up straighter again. He curls both hands around his mug, considering it and then taking a swallow. "Anyway, for what it's worth, your.. "viewing". Is pretty spot-on."
"Is it?" Cyril's lips curl up into a smile as he considers the older buck. In his mind of course he /knows/ it's accurate because he can see the fire of personality dancing all over Sid, but. Have to appease the Blind among us. "Thanks. What'd I hit, anyway?" The aspects of his target's personality are often interesting.
Sid's eyes squint not-quite-shut, the smile slipping off and his expression more serious. He considers his drink for a while longer, then glances sideways at the buck for a moment. "My kid, Mikey. He.. his friend's gone missing. Best friend, closer to him than anyone in the world. It's not looking good."
"Oh," replies Cyril. "Missing. Unfortunate... cannot communicate with the missing." The young buck turns to his drink, sipping from it, though his eyes are on his book. "Possible to diving his location, if you had a bit of his blood. Hm. Or listen to him from afar, with a personal item of his." The buck is musing into his water, pausing again to sip.
Sid's eyes tick up from the mug of ale. He looks at Cyril again, and his expression is a bit hard. Like. If this whole thing's a joke, it's tresspassing a little too far. "What're you talking about?"
Cyril's eyes flick from his book to Sid.. the distrust is apparent as a flicker across his aura, if not from the hardened expression alone. "Sorry," he says, a little hastily. "I just.. I know some methods. You know, divination. Distance communication." Apparently Cyril dabbles a little in the arts on the side. "Not as practiced as I would like," he mumbles. "But I could try."
Sid looks a bit wary, his jaw slightly tense. "You're not messing around? This is about Tam's life, and my /son/..." His voice is low, and he takes a short breath, then lets it out. "You honestly think you could .. do something?"
"I wouldn't offer if I didn't think there was a chance," returns Cyril. "It's up to you." The buck drains the last of his water, though it's gone flat by this point, and places his book into a pocket in his tunic. "If you want me to try, I can."
".. no blood of his. But." Sid's ears are a bit twitchy. He eyes his ale, and takes a moment to finish it in a few large swallows, grimacing a bit at the end and then standing up. "I can find something belonging to him. That's what you said, right?"
Generally it's hard to have blood, but blood is the best connection you can get. The strongest, by far. "Yes," he replies, turning on his stool to watch Sid stand up. "The more personal the item.. the more of them you have, the better."
Sid's muzzle screws up in thought, his ears rested backward and still twitching a few times. "Personal? Damn, I'm gonna be stealing Tam's stuff, and the guy's probably already dead.." He heads toward the door with a gesture for Cyril to follow.
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