The Scythe's Edge

1. Lonan Abraxas

There was something to be said about the deadly beauty of winter. The sweeping blankets of white that spilled over drooping eaves and cloaked the gnarled, naked branches of slumbering trees, the curling blooms of frost that so ironically evoked thoughts of spring flowers, the muted, almost muffled quiet that the cottony snow brought with it. It cast the humble town, even with the rumble of carts and the bustling of cloaked townsfolk, under a spell of almost irreverent solemnity. At least outdoors in the cold-- the warm light that poured from windows was a stark contrast to the dark sky and whistling winter winds.

Lonan didn't much appreciate the beauty, though. He wasn't exactly in a mood to.

Which was why he'd been eager to shove his way into the inn dubbed 'The Drunken Stag' long before the snow had begun again. He'd fallen heavily into a booth near the crackling fireplace, feet aching fiercely, and he'd sighed as he pulled his sodden cloak tighter around himself. He wanted to shed the heavy fabric, he knew he'd be warmed a lot faster if he did, but unfortunately, he didn't possess the recklessness. So instead, Lonan kept his hood low and basked in the glow of the flickering flames as the sound of companionship and mildly-drunken activities floated around him.

The inn wasn't terribly big, Lonan had the self-awareness to know that. But it was bigger than any of the ones he'd been inside back in Clarvale. It was packed full of well-carved tables and chairs, bathed in warm, candlelit hues, the walls and floor still carrying the texture of wood that hadn't been fully sanded, perhaps intentionally. It wasn't terribly crowded, but those who were present were in tight-knit groups, so perhaps them being in scattered crowds merely provided the illusion of vacancy. Mostly people that Lonan's mother would have referred to beneath the broad banner of 'woodfolk.' Most were humanoid-- satyrs and fawns with long, leathery ears, dense fur, and sharp hooves that clicked against the hardwood, dwarves with their short, stocky builds and big, calloused hands, and several others who Lonan didn't even have names for. Tall, pronged horns or skin as rough as uncut stone, pointed animalistic eyes, and not a rounded ear in sight; nothing but odd colors and interesting shapes. Lonan hadn't much experience with such people, and as vigilant as he was to not stare at them like animals in an enclosure-- no one should be looked at as such-- he couldn't help but be fascinated.

"Passing through?"

Lonan jolted to attention, his mind having wandered while his body remained tense and unsure, and he looked up at who had spoken.

A lady, dressed in a cozy-looking blue uniform with flounce sleeves and a knee-length skirt, a well-worn apron tossed over it. She seemed to be older, from the faint wrinkles written onto her face, with pale green skin and dark hair pulled back in a taut bun, naked branches stretching from her very skull, the hands wrapped around her ewer craggled and brown like the bark of a tree. Lonan faintly wondered if those branches would be full of leaves if the weather were fairer.

"Oh. Um. Yes'm, just passin' through," He said clumsily, admittedly having not been ready to speak. He swallowed and tucked his arms against his chest beneath his cloak, feeling the itching start up again but refusing to acknowledge it.

"Hells of a day to do so," the woman said with a soft, raspy laugh, bright yellow eyes glittering as she set a mug on the table in front of Lonan. "Terrible time to get a glimpse at our town, I'm afraid. I promise we're far more quaint in the summers. Cocoa? We're dishing the first mug free... figure some folks need it, in this weather."

"That'd be nice, thank you," Lonan replied quietly, feeling the tension in him ease faintly. He watched her pour the chocolate, steaming and thick, into the mug, and took it gratefully, warming his hands on the glass through the leather of his gloves before he drank. It was sweet, and filled him like molten iron did a mold, immediately chasing the deeper chills away. "Wow. That's... that's really nice. I thought inns were supposed to specialize in alcohol."