Flame of the Huntress

White Haired Bastard

 I finally managed to find an inn–it was rugged and reeked of dead bodies- but my victory money only bought so much.

I spent the rest of that day laying down until my wounds somewhat healed–the whiskey worked as a disinfectant, which burned like hell but I am in no need of an infection spreading. I ate some leftover stale bread I snuck from a bakery last night which should last me through the day. Now, I proud the city's back streets at midnight, trying to get my strength back.

I found a lonesome alleyway that I have designated as my walking and training area. I began a few training techniques for my strength and agility then moved towards my power, punching bursts of fire in trained sequences and working with the new dagger.

Only a few lonesome souls walked past me, and they were quick to scurry off as I gave them a death-promising stare.

Two hours passed and I was drenched in sweat. 

Enough training for today–I need a drink. 

The night breeze kissed my damp and burning skin, as I walked back to the inn, bathed, and headed over to a tavern.

                                                                                          ~~~~

This tavern was different from D'angelo's Pitt. While the former's crowd were scams and thieves, Rue's were composed of noblemen and guards escaping a night for drinks, and other pleasures the night brings.

The ceilings were adorned with large chandeliers casting a dim light on the red velvet seating. Chatter filled the tavern, along with laughter and gossip.

To the right was a long bar with black plush seating, the left were of entrances to private rooms. One couple, a tall muscular man and a brown-haired woman with a glittering dress, briskly left the rest of their comrades for the rooms to indulge in the night's pleasures.

I headed right. Straight for alcohol.

A polished men, with deep chocolate skin and piercing blue eyes was polishing a glass, "Good evening," His accented voice was directed to me, "Wh-

"Whiskey," I answered without time coming between me and my drink.

His hands moved at immaculate efficiency and speed, "Rough day?" he asks, even though I clearly looked like I want to be left alone.

I'm not sure what compelled me to answer but, "I look that bad?"

He gave a subtle laugh, sliding the drink towards me, "It's the voice, not the face". I look up at him, but he is already off helping another customer.

I don't give his possible flirtation a second thought as I don't particularly care to.

I whoosh down the whiskey in one gulp, delighting in the subtle burn, and slide it back to the bartender's side for a refill as a male figure approaches.

I can feel his eyes staring at me through my peripheral vision, it makes me unnerved but I don't give him acknowledgement.

The charming bartender comes back, refills my whiskey with a knowing smirk, and asks the man next to me what he would like.

"Water," the man's voice is husk and deep–distracting me from the fact that he just ordered water.

The bartender just nodes, and is off preparing his 'water'.

I am about to take a sip of my whiskey, when the husk voice speaks again, this time to me, "Who are you?" His voice runs stern rather than lustful.

I take a sip from my drink before acknowledging him, "Such a sudden demand," I purr, slowly shifting my head towards his direction.

He is absolutely beautiful, if I allowed myself to think– even with his black leather armor and longer cape I can see he has large, broad shoulders, covered in muscles from years of training–

The bartender comes towards us, "Your water," his drink gets pushed towards him, but his piercing emerald eyes remain fixed on me.

The charming bartender looks at me as if silently asking, What's up with him? I just gave a subtle shrug saying, I have no bloody idea. He gave a weary glance and went off, telling that I can handle myself, leaving the two of us.

Although he looks no older than twenty-eight, he has snow white hair–odd. His entire left side os his faced is adorned in black ink, reaching down his neck than disappearing under the black leather.

I look away from him to my drink in boredom, "Look, if you are looking for someone to go into one of those rooms with you," I swirl the drink in my hand, then bring it close to my lips, "Then your out of luck—

He snatches my drink, my drink, chugs it, then leaves the stool in a heavy lift, as if his own body is a mountain itself. 

This arrogant prick!

I hear him grumble  under his breath, "I knew she'd be a waste of my damn time," before scowling out of the tavern.

I glare at my now empty whiskey cup, fire replacing the brown in my eyes. 

That bastard! 

I toss a coin on the counter, fire cursing through my veins, coming down each step, and follow the man who is going to regret ever meeting me.

As I'm walking out, a finely dressed man rushing towards the private rooms behind a scandalous bearing woman, runs into me knocking my shoulder.

I glare back at him, growling fire seeping from my teeth. He looks like he is about to shit himself, when the girl grabs him by the collar and drags him away~

                                                                                                  ~~~~~

To his unfortunance, my victim turned left down the alleyway. Perfect. Not a witness in sight to see his murder. Usually, I would not bother with such an asshole, but I am feeling extra pissed-off today. Could be my wounds, could be that I have yet to see a high lord begging for his life, or maybe a little bit of both.

A speck of white glimmers from down the path–Found you, bastard.

Nodbody touches my damn whiskey.