aterat | (no subject)

Who; Rhy Maresh, Open
What; Loose Lips and Fashion Advice, and Secrets Being threatened
Where; Market Tavern, The Streets
When; Mid December
Warnings; Alcohol consumption and perhaps overconsumption, possible discussions of death

I. Fun And Fashion And Firewarmed Ale | Open; Market Tavern

"Oh god, what is that?"

The words are called out loudly from the bar where someone is clearly holding something like court. There is Rhy Maresh, voice loud and cheerful, plenty of eyes on him and people laughing all about. In one hand is a mug of spiced cider, probably not the first. In the other is a small stick that he's waving around as if to use it to point. Which he is. Now he swings the thing out to tap some local's scarf. The fabric was harringbone pattern in orange and pink.

"With a lime green shirt? Sir! Sir this is an outrage! None of these colors suit your complexion at all! You need colors with deeper hues. Oh how could you not love yourself enough!"

Clearly something is going on. Fashion advice maybe?

II. The Secrets We Keep | Open

Rhy hums to himself, loopy with drink and warm inside and out. It's been a long day and he knew his husband was working late, so there was no reason he couldn't have stayed late at the Tavern. It had been a delight, giving people fashion advice. A laugh, a touch on the past that he knew he could not go back to but also would not truly wish to live again. But brushing against it, once in a while, could be something soothing, like flirting with the fire that burned you.

At first he doesn't notice a light further down the road going out. He notices the second and dismisses it. He notices the third and freezes. This... was not normal. At all.

"Hello?" he called out. Perhaps this was magic? Hard to reason it out, with how loopy he felt from the drink.

Then there was darkness. All the nearby street lights out, leaving him in a large puddle of shadow, one that bled out around him and made him shudder. Darkness was so much harder to deal with since...

Hot breath on his neck. Rhy freezes in fear, and then he bolts. Words that he wasn't ready to deal with, was never ready to face, had been whispered in his ear. They more than anything else were what sent him into headlong flight. Someone knew. Someone had found out. Someone... No, he had to get away. Rhy runs into the night, runs and runs until he slams, unintentionally, into someone else.