Elona Bound: Part 2
----- Arrangements -----
The smoke-filled bar
seemed to echo its usual clientele, with shady figures lurking about and
unsavory clandestine meetings. Demitra
had experienced places like this before and while it was not an experience she
particularly enjoyed, it was very much a necessity. She'd been stuck in Tyria since a whirlwind
of circumstances left her abandoned on this continent, so far away from her
Elonan homeland.
She tapped on her
glass; her contact was late. She'd
thought a few scoundrels entering may have been her rendezvous partner, yet
they walked past and ignored her, it only adding to Demitra's frustrated
anxiety. Further still, the wait caused
her to mind to wander and contemplate her future.
Was she being too
short-sighted on attempting to flee this land?
While at first the time here had been extremely difficult, she'd
recently found such a courageous guild, one which seemed to have such
generousness and virtuous goals. She'd
even found a confidant, a relationship which she wished to explore. Tyria had much to offer and a journey she had
never seen until now. In contrast, she
had been a freedom fighter in Elona ever since she'd first left her adoptive
family in Vabbi, and championed saviors to defend the helpless villages under
the tyrannical rule of Joko… but, was it now time to take a different path?
Lost in thought, she
swirled the whiskey and observed the cloudiness, not aware her contact had
arrived.
The man stood in the
corner of the bar, doing his best to not breathe too deeply in the smoke filled
room. He was dressed in his usual dark attire—black boots, pants, hood, and
trench coat. Scanning from left to right, he examined everyone present, nodding
to his associates scattered throughout the room. Seeing his target sitting by
the bar, he meandered through the crowd and took his place beside the Elonian
woman. He took one look at the bartender who nodded toward him, filling a mug
of ale and sliding it to him a moment later. After a brief sip, it was then
that the hooded figure attempted to break Demitra’s focus. “Quite a wonderful
night, is it not?”
Demitra looked up in
a bit of surprise. She quickly caught
this, attempted to remain stoic, while cursing herself for not being more aware
in this establishment. Her own vigilance
notwithstanding, her empathic abilities would usually alert her. Maybe it was something about this place,
"The Dead End," which earned its reputation.
She only slightly
moved her hood to glance at the man.
Whether a facade or genuine, Demitra smiled.
"Depends on how
one defines, 'wonderful.'" She took
a sip, emerald eyes locked on the man.
A
small chuckle was emitted from the man as he turned his head to face her. Her smile was met by one of his own, bright
icy blue eyes glowing in contrast of his shadowy features beneath the hood.
When the light cooperated, Demitra could see a handsome face with a
well-trimmed black beard that adorned his well-kept raven-black hair and tan
skin. “It is a rather subjective word,”
he admitted, bringing the mug back to his lips.
“I hear you were seeking an audience with me?” Despite the charm and
casual speech, he had an air of business about him
"I was given
your name by a source anonymous; as I'm sure you understand. Your reputation…" Demtira paused
muttering under her breath, "How do you outlanders call it?" She
quickly found the phrase and continued, "Your reputation precedes you: you
are a man to get things done." She
smiled thick full lips, peeled back her hood revealing a caramel complexion and
dark brown hair which draped over her shoulder.
She allowed the robe to fall and hang off her exposed shoulder as she
leaned over to the man. "And I am a
woman needing things done."
The man chuckled
softly, turning to face her with his hip leaned against the bar. His eyes
looked over what he could see before returning to her emerald gaze. “So I have
heard.” He held out his hand after lowering his own hood to his shoulders.
“Xavier Ardavan,” he said in an introductory tone.
Demitra noticed his
hand, but only nodded her head in a slight bow while still seated. "I am
called Demitra Naja Nyimah; seemingly simply addressed by my first name here in
Divinity's Reach. Yes, I suppose just… Demitra," she snickered as she again
took a sip. The novelty of this place, this whiskey, and this culture had been
very much on her mind recently. While their whiskey may have left something to
be desired, there was a quaint charm to be had in Divinity's Reach, and she
would be remiss to say she wouldn't miss it.
Xavier relieved his
hand to his side as he nodded in response. “Call me Xavier then.” He took a
long sip of his ale before returning to his previous position against the
counter. “Now what is it I can help ‘get done’ for you, Ms. Demitra?”
Demitra leaned back
and said with a coy expression, "You got an airship?"
“One or two.” He
said casually, eyeing the woman. “Looking for your way back home, I take it?”
"Yes, to
Elona." She nodded solemnly, took in the last bit of her drink, then
looked up at the man with determined emerald eyes. "For me," she
grinned, "and perhaps for a few friends."
To Be Continued...
