Otto’s mates left money for their tabs on the table, stumbling up the stairs. Otto lagged behind, making sure that nobody had left a purse or weapon behind on their seats.
The tavern was beginning to clear out by now, the silvery moon high in the sky. Otto’s gaze flickered around the emptying room, from the flickering hearths to the scarred and stained tables. He took a seat with a grunt, taking his long hair down and tying it back up (neater this time).
Evan grabbed a cloth from behind the bar, slowly making his way round the tables and cleaning up any spilled drinks and other various food substances. He hummed softly to himself, glancing at the man from earlier who had been one of the loudest in the chorus of voices from before.
“I ‘aven’t seen you in here before,” He started, breaking the near silence, “Or maybe I just ‘aven’t been payin’ attention.”
The man’s eyes lingered on a few people who seemed to be passed out from drinking, though they could’ve just fallen asleep. He eyed them with a small bit of judgement, but he had been in the same situation before.
He jumped at Evan’s sudden words, not expecting anyone to talk to him. “Fuck-!” Otto looked towards the thin man when he heard his voice, the one who had been standing on the table just a few minutes ago.
“Nah, you ‘aven’t. Ah’m a sailor, jus’ pulled in ta port todae from Esmein. Long trip, Ah have to say.” Otto laughed, staying seated. Not only was his Esmenian accent thick and rough, but his voice itself seemed to be a little shot from the night’s antics.
Evan smirked a little, nodding along to what Otto was saying. He had to concentrate hard to understand him at first, considering he didn’t have much interaction with people from Esmein.
“Ah, right, makes sense then. I recognise most people that come in here, the regulars. I knew I ‘adn’t seen you here before,” He shrugged, grabbing a few of the tankards that had been dropped on the floor, “I’m Evander, or Evan. It’s a pleasure to meet you..?”
Otto stuck his hand out for a handshake, but quickly pulled it back once he remembered how many things Evander was already holding. “Th’name’s Otto. Good ta meet yeh.” He sniffed, watching a dog strut through the tavern. “Yer the baird here, Ah reckon?”
He tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, leaning back in his chair.
Evan shrugged a shoulder, "Somethin' of the sorts I guess," He walked over to the bar, placing the tankards on the wood for the man behind the counter to take and wash up, "Been here for a while, I'm fairly sure I've earned the title of bard by now."
“Ah.” Otto nodded, standing up from his seat and placing a few coins on the bar as a tip. “See some interestin’ folks, then, Ah assume? Cheap inn like this must get all kinds’a business.” He laughed, knowing fully well the he and his crew definitely weren’t unremarkable patrons by any means- the ragtag band of men looked more than a little odd when they were all together.
Evan chuckled lightly and nodded, leaning against the bar with his arms crossed, "Quite a few. It's not all bad, though. You see som' very interestin' people in here but honestly? It's great! The stories and songs you 'ear are wonderful." Yes it was loud and crowded most of the time and the stories got muddled most of the time it was an atmosphere he enjoyed.
Otto nodded with a chuckle. “Ah never said it was bad, Evan. Taverns get tha best stories, best songs. Best people. Half ma crew was nabbed from wee ol’ taverns all over, yeh know.” He added, tilting his head. “If yer ever in need’a some stories, Ah have more than yeh could ever tell in a week.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Evan's lips, "Seriously? Yes! I ah, I mean yes, please," He Ran a hand through his hair, letting you a soft sigh, "So, how long are you an' your crew stayin'? And what brings you round these parts, anyways?"
“Yes, seriously!” Otto grinned, taking a seat at the bar. “Do ya take me for tha typa man who’d pull yer leg?” He listened intently to Evan’s questions, eager to jump on any chance to talk about himself or his travels. “A month o’ two. Tradin’, y’know. Which remin’s me- Ah’m no sayin’ we didnae do our research, but Ah wanna hear it from a local- what’s th’ best market here? For tradin’, I mean?”
"Oh, right," Evan pushing himself onto a bar stool, "There's a market 'bout five minutes horse ride from here. Maybe about ten minute walk? Amazin' place. Has everythin' you could ever think of," He shrugged, thinking for a few more moments, "Yeah, definitely the best place round these parts. And the best one I've ever been to."
“We’ll check it out, then! Boys ‘n I’ll jump at any chance ta get tradin’.” Otto laughed raucously, leaning on his elbows. His eyes travelled around the tavern, taking in the small details he hadn’t noticed earlier: the plethora of stains on the tables (and walls), the scars littering the floor, hell, even the buildup of soot staining the fireplace from years of fires. The tavern felt homey and convivial, even though there were hardly even a dozen patrons inside.
Evan chuckled lightly, running his fingers over the wood of the bar and picking at a few loose splinters of wood, "Just watch out for 'ol Mrs Murrow. She'll swindle you out of everythin' you have if you aren't careful and you'll get nothin' in return. Bastard of a woman I tell you."
Otto’s eyes crinkled with his smile. “Mrs Murrow, eh? Thanks fer tha warnin’. We’re no a group to get regularly swindled by an ol’ bag like tha’, bu’ya never know.” He cracked his knuckles, drumming his fingers on the bar counter.
“Oh trust me, she’s a manipulative one. You won’t even see her comin’ and the poof! Suddenly you’re down all your valuables and left with nothin’ but the clothes on your back,” Evan sighed softly, through he was still smiling the slightest bit, “I’ve seen it ‘appen to too many people who don’t know her.”
“Tha’s quite a character yer describin’. Care ta tell me what th’ hag even loo’s like?” Otto chuckled heartily. He looked outside the tavern’s yellowed windows. Pure darkness. “I’s gettin’ quite late, innit?”
“Short, wears a lot o’ grey and ‘ol clothes. Long hair, brown with spots of white. Wrinkles but still looks fairly young for someone of ‘er age,” Evan shrugged, “Wears a silencer crow necklace, that’s how you’ll know it’s ‘er,” He sighed, following Otto’s gaze, “Yeah, it is quite late.”
Otto nodded. “Ah’ll be havin’ a wee word with me crew about ‘er, then. Seems like a real cocky bitch.” He stretched, taking a final glance at the bartender. “Ah may tuck in fer the night. Gotta get good rest before all tha tradin’.”
Evan nodded, standing from the bar and chucking the cloth skilfully into a near by sink, “Probably a good idea. I live just down the road so if you ‘ave any inquiries about the market before you leave come and see me.”
“Will do. Thanks fer the advice, Evan. Ah’ve go’ a feelin’ we’ll see each other again, ha.” Otto stood, cracking his neck. He gave Evan a short wave, another to the bartender, before traveling up the stairs hidden in the back corner. Above the tavern, like so many of them, nested a small inn. Only half a dozen rooms, meaning that Otto and his crew were two or three to a bed. Nothing new, but it wasn’t comfortable.
Evan said his goodbye shortly after Otto said his and left. He also said goodbye to the bartender, not staying too long before he headed back home. He loved in a small place down the end of the street. It was nice enough for a small space, but not that he minded. It was enough for him and that was all that mattered.
(I’m gonna go ahead and TS to morning, if you don’t mind?)
(Of course, go ahead :) )
Otto stretched, clambering out of bed. He winced at a crick in his neck, but tried to ignore it as he got dressed for the day. His long hair was kept in a braid overnight to avoid tangles (and it was usually the butt of many jokes from the rest of the crew), but that meant extra work in the morning, which then meant extra time, which was something that Otto certainly didn’t like to waste. He threw on his clothes, tying his hair up as quickly as possible and heading downstairs with the rest of his men.
Evan was always up early. It was both a blessing and a curse when it came to staying at the tavern late. Being a medic by profession kept him on his toes a lot. It meant he visited door to door for people who needed help and he traveled to near by towns and markets looking for more people to help. His bag was always ready to go, not matter how late he was. He was up and out in no time, bag slung over his shoulder.
Otto and a few others had broken away from the main crew of men. While the main bunch was leaving to explore the market, Otto (along with his small group) was tasked with hauling crates off of the ship and lugging them to the market stall that his crew had rented. There were a good dozen or so, maybe more, but they were all full of foreign goods that would appeal to the people in this port town.
It was then that Evan rounded the corner, very nearly bumping into one of Otto’s crew mates and knocking over what he had in his hands. He apologised quickly, moving out of the way of the other before he spotted Otto, “You’re up early, aye?”
Otto had a smaller crate, though it certainly didn’t look any lighter. “Aye. Thank th’ gods tha’ the market‘s close ta th’ harbor! Draggin’ these beasts around is trouble ‘nuff, bu’ this damn weather sure in’t makin’ it better!” He laughed, readjusting how he held the crate. It was foggy that morning, especially around the seaport, where the dense fog was so all-swallowing that if it weren’t for the lanterns outlining it, one would barely be able to see the edge of the piers.
“Do you need any ‘elp?” He has a bit of spare time on his hands before he had to visit his first patient, so if Otto needed any assistance with anything Evan was willing to help. Even if manual labour wasn’t he’s best strength considering he had little physical strength to begin with.
