J
James Lanvarok
Seated in the corner of a tavern, James shoveled beef stew into his mouth, washing every spoonful down with a gulp of ale. The road had been unforgiving and sentries from Vel Anir had been following him at every turn. Breathing in, he released a heavy sigh and rested his cheek on his fist, chewing quietly on the bits of beef as a bard played the lute in the corner. A weight pulled down on his chest, dropping into his stomach and making it cramp. Brow creased, he held back and stuffed his face to relieve the disappointment of his plight. He had failed his father, and couldn't imagine the shame he had to go through explaining how his son had abandoned the academy because he was too weak to withstand the trials.
James huffed. He looked at his reflection in the diamond shaped panes of the window. He was unimpressive, unflattering, short and overweight, a joke to anybody he stood up to.
The strumming of the bard's lute reached his ears, calming him somewhat as he finished his stew. Picking up the bowl, he lifted it to his mouth and shoveled in the last few scraps, then set it down. He took a long gulp of ale, belched and wiped his face on his sleeve. He was filthy and needed a bath and a shave. Stroking his chin, he felt the layer of burgeoning stubble that was growing. He shoved his bowl aside and turned around, to be met with the features of the bard.
She was beautiful, like a timeless doll set in porcelain. James' eyes widened to the size of stars. Icy blue and crystalline, they were particularly unsettling when he stared, but he couldn't help it. The petite young woman playing the lute was stunning, unlike any lady he had seen on his travels.
Maybe he was just smitten.
James swallowed a gulp. Picking up his horn, he downed the remainder of his ale and turned around on his chair. His eyes locked with those of the woman, and he sheepishly looked away. He rushed to his cheeks and he suddenly became tense. Bottom lip hanging open, he creased his brow and stared at the floor, his heart beating like the wings of a bird caught in a net.
James huffed. He looked at his reflection in the diamond shaped panes of the window. He was unimpressive, unflattering, short and overweight, a joke to anybody he stood up to.
The strumming of the bard's lute reached his ears, calming him somewhat as he finished his stew. Picking up the bowl, he lifted it to his mouth and shoveled in the last few scraps, then set it down. He took a long gulp of ale, belched and wiped his face on his sleeve. He was filthy and needed a bath and a shave. Stroking his chin, he felt the layer of burgeoning stubble that was growing. He shoved his bowl aside and turned around, to be met with the features of the bard.
She was beautiful, like a timeless doll set in porcelain. James' eyes widened to the size of stars. Icy blue and crystalline, they were particularly unsettling when he stared, but he couldn't help it. The petite young woman playing the lute was stunning, unlike any lady he had seen on his travels.
Maybe he was just smitten.
James swallowed a gulp. Picking up his horn, he downed the remainder of his ale and turned around on his chair. His eyes locked with those of the woman, and he sheepishly looked away. He rushed to his cheeks and he suddenly became tense. Bottom lip hanging open, he creased his brow and stared at the floor, his heart beating like the wings of a bird caught in a net.