Participants:

Adrian_icon.gif Taril_icon.gif

Scene Title Patron Saints or Saintly Patrons
Synopsis A conversation in the Hanged Man
Location The Hanged Man
Date Justinian 1, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For Optimism and pessimism colliding
Logger Taril

This tavern is always bustling with activity of one sort or another, as the stained wooden floors and tables will attest. The main room is large and sports a bar nearest the door where the bartender will serve you any manner of questionable beverages. The high ceiling is festooned with banners that hang between the columns and from the iron candle-wheels in a show of faded red. Further back are a series of small rooms that can be had for a price as well as one rather large suite that has been decorated in dwarven fashion.

There's this belief- depending on who you ask- that the Dalish don't drink. However, if you travel through places with questionable water, the BEST way to make sure it's purified is to turn it into ales or beers of various strengths. That being the case, and taverns being the best places to listen for idle gossip and rumors, Taril procures one of the better ales on offer and chooses a table somewhere mid-room. He can drink and split feathers for fletching as he listens.

Rumors are not the only sound present within the tavern today. Adrian is propped against one wall playing his lute, providing upbeat background noise with the gossips here. The music is kept somewhat low, cheerfully twisting through the room in a catchy tune but not loudly enough to disturb conversations. The elf in the middle of the room is noticed and the bard offer him a warm smile dipping his head politely if Taril happens to look over his way.

Taril shakes his head. "First the hopeless poor, and now the unwashed and questionable," he comments. "Keep it up and they'll nominate you as some sort of holy figure." He puts on a dramatic air long enough to say "Patron saint of the hopeless and lost. …and you know what they do to their holy figures."

A brow raises at that statement and Adrian begins to move away from the wall to join Taril at his table. The song comes to an end and the bard takes a seat across from the elf with a grin. "They wouldn't dare make me a holy figure….I sin way too much. And holy figures are not allowed to have flaws. I have plenty." He shakes his head looking amused. "Patron saint of Song and Good Cheer sounds much better anyway…not that I want to be a sait of any kind. I would either die horribly or wind up locked in a Chantry for the rest of my days. No thank you." He leans back in his chair setting the lute on his lap and studying Taril with a cheerful grin. "How are you today then?"

Adrian laughs. "They do look rather miserable don't they? Though maybe saints had a habit of annoying their sculptors and the artists got fed up and made them look awful on purpose?" There is a smile given followed by a chuckle. "Ask after the condition of your ass? I don't think we know each other that well yet Taril." A playful smile is given along with a wink. "But I'm glad you are recovering, I am doing quite well myself. Hopefully I will be better prepared for the next bit of excitement that happens."

"Well enough? Oh right. Most of the humans I've met have been more subtle in speech. I keep forgetting." Taril is as subtle as a thrown brick, is what that means. "Well, if the festival day was anything to go by, Kirkwall will be even further from boring than it was before." The finished fletchings are placed into a bag before he begins to split more. "I think that's the whole point. You make them look awful to make suffering look holy. It makes those who are doing all that suffering feel like it has a purpose. It could be both. One artist has a bad day and makes everyone feel their suffering."

"If you want me to be more blunt just ask, you may regret it though." Adrian remains quite amused his eyes sparkling with mirth and his smile playful and bright. "So more excitement is on the way…that's…nice. Hopefully its more pleasant excitement than Qunari." A brow raises and Adrian shakes his head. "Suffering should have a point to it, you can suffer in order to better yourself or those around you but suffering is also not the only way and to think it is holy is depressing." Adrian considers a moment and then smirks. "You know for such a handsome elf you seem to really struggle with positive and hopeful thinking. Do I need to start giving you compliments to cheer you up some?" He chuckles lightly. "See that is why me being blunt is normally a bad thing…"

Taril laughs, and look! Either he's laughing that hard or he's blushing, because there's a hint of color in those cheeks. "I'm a realist," he explains. "I can only tell you what I see around me. Maybe it's because everyone here lives their lives so quickly. Rushing everywhere and to everything. There are a few who don't. You, maybe Maura. …but I don't require compliments."

Adrian nods in understanding noting that blush with a gentle smile. "Then I shall have to try and lifts the spirits of those here so that you can observe something more cheerful." He smiles warmly. "And just because you don't require something doesn't mean you can't enjoy it when it happens yes? I think I like complimenting you but I don't have to. Its not required after all." That smile is quite dazzling, bright and oh so very charming.

Taril shakes his head, though he's still grinning. "Even pretty smoke is just smoke," he points out, though he still sounds amused. "But by all means, if you think you can find a way to change my mind by cheering these people…" Not that he looks like he's convinced that it's at all possible. "I'm Dalish, remember? We're all convinced that you can't have happiness or hope inside the walls of a city like this."

"If everyone lived in the wilds they would no longer be wild. Everyone has their own way of doing things and their own way of finding happiness." Adrian counters with a cheerful smile. "Besides the wilderness may have beauty but there are good things everywhere, you just have to look harder to find them in some places. See, I have to look harder in the wilderness to find good things. While you have a hard time seeing the good in cities. But I shall try to show you the positive at least. It will be a nice challenge for me." He smiles brightly and rises. A bow is given to Taril as he begins to play his lute once again, a bright and cheerful melody filling the room once more.

Taril finishes his beer and stows away the processed feathers. "Walls like these. My people once lived in cities, too. …you know, I killed the last person who convinced me of anything with compliments." With that, he picks up his things and heads off. Even those with wounded butts have to hunt if they want to eat.


Any additional notes fall to the bottom.