The Thief of Skystead

The Unfortunate Incident

If Azazel could go to the inn, he would. But the stupid general's stupid wedding requests forbid any 'common folk' from entering the inn now that the stupid rich guests are beginning to arrive. So, Azazel's at the bar. And he's had a drink or two. Or three. Or... how do numbers work again?

Muriel, the bartender and the worst grumpig alive at this very moment, walks over to him and suggests, "Hey, why don't ya cool it on the drinks, Azazel."

Sloshing his half empty drink around in his cup, he slurs, "Why don't you shut up."

She rolls her eyes at him, taking his empty glasses away. His head lolls downward, and he blinks blearily at his glass like he's never seen it before. Throwing his head back, he takes another swig and slams the cup down. He figures the general or Savaric or Grimald will come chasing after him eventually. To hell with all them. He'll fight them right here and now; he's not going back to that estate.

The stage at the front of the bar lights up. The loud chatter in the room dies down, and everyone turns their attention up front. Everyone in town knows what time it is when the bar gets silent like this. It's time for Adallinda to sing.

The curtains on stage draw back, revealing Adallinda, a middle-aged altaria. If not for Felicia's Inn, Adallinda would've easily made the bar the most popular place in town. Her voice is like velvety heaven and the way she moves her body is almost too sensual to be legal. Sometimes, people don't even come to the bar to drink. They just want to watch her show.

Perched on a polished stool, Adallinda allows her glossy, cloud-like wings to flutter. Gazing into the hushed crowd with seductive, lidded eyes, she tilts her head and begins to sing. Like she's a siren, the room is immediately drawn to her.

The song is a heartbreaking blues song about heartbreak or some other... heartbreaking thing. He can't really understand her words; his head is too foggy. But he can understand her tone and her expression and her body language, and he connects with it. When her voice cracks with devastation, his heart cracks along with it. The song is sweeping him up in its melancholy melody.

Clearly, she's a great singer. The best. Even sober Azazel could recognize her talent. But right now, sitting on this stiff bar stool and getting more miserable with every drink, drunk Azazel wishes Alistair was the one up there singing.

He tries to cast Alistair out of his mind. But the more he tries to get him out, the harder he sticks.

Gunnora's always said she has a sixth sense for when Azazel's up to dumb shit. Like getting drunk at three in the afternoon. He's never really believed her until she bursts through the bar doors just to glare at him.

She makes her way to him, careful not to disturb people watching the show. When she arrives, she sits next to him and pushes his drink across the table. Pathetically, he lays down and slaps his hand on the table in an attempt to grab it again.

"Dude, you've had enough," she states.

"Man, shut up," he moans, slumping back in his seat. A nearby patron shushes them.

Whispering, Gunnora asks, "Are you really skipping out on the general's protection again? Why?"

His brain replays the fight with Alistair. Actually, it doesn't really replay it. It just brings it up again, like it's rubbing it in his face. Sighing, he drops his head on the table.

Adallinda's song deepens, like it's digging its way to the depths of his heart. It unlocks emotions Azazel didn't know he had, feelings he didn't know existed. Her poignant tone evokes every tragedy in the room, from a lost loved one to a child's worst birthday party. Azazel never cries. Never. But he's feeling something welling up inside him.