exodus of the townspeople and speaks

_ The bartender looks haggard, her grey hair pulled into a loose bun, her apron unwashed. She is deep in thought, untilClemento’s question breaks her internal reverie. “They’re leaving. Of course they are. People died last night, in the open street. People disappear in the night, it makes you afraid, but people dying in the street? Of course they’re leaving. Maybe they’re the smart ones, but I’m too old and stubborn to leave. And the forest on the way out is just as dangerous. How many do you think will make the trip? No, I can’t leave now.” As if she just realized he asked her a question, she answers him again. “Left before? Lots of people have left before. A quarter of the houses were empty when you arrived. But not like this, no, never so many. Nathaniel is staying. Wants me to stay with him until the fog blows over, leave the inn. Too close to the water, he says. I can’t understand half of why he says anything. Probably all those chemicals he works with.”

Bulky looks shaken, his curly hair a disheveled mess, he doesn’t appear to have slept much last night. He looks at his huge hands on the bar, opening and closing his fists into his palms. “We should be leaving too. I’m already packed. We took the forest road once, we can take it again.” But his voice falters as he thinks of retreading the paths that lead through Greenleaf. He lifts an empty glass to his lips, stares into it, surprised, and sets it down. “I hate that fog. It’s unnatural. I feel like it’s pinning us in.” He grumbles to himself, then resumes his silence at the bar. Clemento’s armored bulk slides next to him, the gleaming oiled metal a stark contrast to Bulky’s studded mercenary leathers. The mighty sword arm anchored by holy purpose. Another drink, words of encouragement, and the waiting continues inside the inn, fire burning warmly, fog lapping at the windows._

exodus of the townspeople and speaks

Khorvaire LadyXue