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Addict
Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Newport Beach, CA
Gender: Male
Posts: 192
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Chapter Six: The Visitor
A hunched figure walked through the rain with a large, dark cloak wrapped tightly around it's body. The figure moved rather slowly, but with pride and rhythm. The gnarled hands tightly grasped the inside of the cloak, holding it securely shut, keeping out the pounding rain that would undoubtedly end in an hour or two. The figure's boots were thickly covered in mud, and made a squelching sound with every step, a sound that was carried away by the wind before it even reached the figure's ears.
It passed a small tree, and noted what appeared to be a pile of old rags lying against it. The figure discarded this obstruction as nothing more than what he percieved it as; a pile of rags.
A strong gust of wind bore down on the old figure suddenly, almost toppling it. The gnarled hands kept a tight grip on the front inside of the cloak, but the hood blew back and uncovered a wisened old face. The small, dark eyes were nearly closed beneath two large, bushy white eyebrows that almost touched what remained of the man's hair. There were only two patches of hair on the ancient head, both of which started above the eyebrows and did a semi-circle around to the back of the man's head, where they met and joined together. One of the man's small ears had two ragged slashes cut out of it, which gave it an almost sinister look.
Other than the ragged ear, the man looked feeble and well past his prime; he was deep into the winter of his years. There is a glimpse of sataisfaction and relief is his beady eyes as he spots the small group of buildings in front of him, one of which is long and tall, a building that assumed was a meeting hall of sorts. That, or a tavern.
One gnarled hand reached out of the safety of the cloak and hauled the hood back up and over the man's face, hiding it from the weather and any curious person who happened to be around at the time. But there was no-one out at this time. This was the hardest weather they had had so far in this rainy season, and the old man didn't know it, but there were very few other people out on the roads at the time.
The old man quickly sped up his speed to it's maximum, which was equivelant to an average walk to any other person with half (or even a fourth) of his years. The rain began to slacken, but only in the slightest. It no longer stung when a rouge raindrop would find it's way down the opening of the man's hood and splattered itself on his face. It was still wet and miserable-feeling, but at least it had lost it's edge.
The stairs to the inn creaked slightly as he put his full weight on them, but the wind carried the sound away. The smell of wet dirt and mud left his nostrils as he reached the top of the short stairway, and was replaced with the smell of a warm fire and good food. So it is a tavern, he thought, I should've known.
A wisened fist, the same one that had fixed it's hood, reached up out of the cloak and knocked on the door.
***
It had taken a while, but Tensai had slowly grown accustumed to his new life working in the tavern. His mind turned in on itself and once again erased his memories of his painful past. He caught occasional glimpses of things that were no longer familiar. Each of this was accompanied by an emotion that he couldn't quite name. It was like nostalgia mixed with pain and with an added shot of jealousy. It was the small slab of jealousy that struck him the most. What am I jealous of, he would wonder, who am I jealous of?
He had seated himself at the bar, facing the large room. It was slowly filling up for the night as the various residents wandered down from their rooms to dine, relax, and lose their already limited money to each other in the various gamblings that happened almost constantly throughtout the day. It seemed there was always that group of five or six scruffy-looking fellows at a certain table next to the fire, dealing out cards and money. Tensai noted that he saw more emotions at this particular table than anywhere else in the tavern. He also noted that the people seemed most animated when they were gambling.
His eyes were just starting to close to take a nap when Tensai thought he heard a noise. He was always hearing noises, of course, but this one seemed strangely out of place. It sounded like someone knocking on the door. He quickly discarded this idea for a more favorable one; one of the gamblers must have knocked on the table. This also seemed illogical, but then again, who would be knocking on the door to a tavern while it was raining like hell outside?
Tensai hopped off his barstool and took a seat by the fire, closer to the infamous Table Of Cards that so many occupants seemed to be attracted to, much like flies to a light in the dark. The fire was warm and comforting, but inside, Tensai still felt a little troubled. What if someone really was out there in the cold, knocking on the door to be let in?
He scoffed as a thought that almost seemed to be not his own surfaced in hsi mind. If they're that stupid, he thought, then they don't deserve to be in here.
Tensai debated this for a moment, and then realized, with more than a small amount of shame and shock, that knocking is exactly what he did, and exctly what he would have done if he were in that situation. He was shy, yes, but there was something more, it was as if he didn't want to inconvinience anyone else, even if it inconvenienced him more.
With this thought in mind, he got up yet again and walked to the door. He stood in front of it indecisevly for a moment, and then reached for the handle.
The door opened inward, and for a moment, all Tensai saw was darkness, the pitch-black storminess of the rainy season. Lightning flashed far off, and there was a split second where Tensai saw a dark, hunched figure in the doorway. Tensai suddenly found his heart had leapt into his throat and he was immobile, as if he had just gazed into the hideous face of Medusa and was now frozen solid.
The figure moved forward, brushed by Tensai, took a left, and went to the furthest corner and sat himself at a table.
Tensai stood, still staring out the open door, for a moment, and then, in a sort of shocked silence, closed it. Being a waiter of sorts, he had no choice but to approach this new arrival and make him (her? it?) feel welcome and get a drink or whatever he (she? it?) wanted.
Around him, the sounds of people talking and drinking and fretting away their money continued as if nothing had happened. Tensai wondered vaugely if anyone even noticed his little scene that really hadn't been a scene, but just a fit of nervousness.
The cloaked figure said nothing and remained immobile as Tensai approached him. Nervousley, Tensai greeted him and informed him of the availible drinks and food. The old man said nothing (Tensai was now sure of it; the body structure appeared to him to be that of an tired old man) and continued sitting where he was, seeming to gaze emptily at the fire from under his dark hood.
Tensai suddenly realized that in the man's position, the light from the fire should reveal his face, but it seemed the hood cast a permanent shadow over his features.
There was a few moments while Tensai stood nervously looking at the newcomer, his mind blocking out all sounds except his breathing and the quick, steady thumping of his heart. Then, quite suddenly it seemed, the old man broke the silence.
"I need nothing, thanks. Only a place to stay for the night."
Tensai jumped a little at the soft voice that emenated from deep in the hood. The voice was deep and strong, but held a note of proud fraility, as if saying "I am old, but I can still kick your ass, sonny."
"So you are not interested in any drinks or anything of the sort?" Tensai asked nervously. He was aware that his voice rose incredibly high on the last three words, and he hoped the old man would not comment.
He didn't.
"I need nothing, thanks." He said again. "Only a place to stay for the night."
Tensai slowly turned to go when the man spoke again.
"But I would like it if you would sit for a moment."
As if guided by an invisible hand, Tensai found himself in a chair looking at the man's dark face. Now that his eyes adjusted (or so he thought) he could just start to make out the wisened and tired features of the visitors face. He's well into his years, Tensai thought suddenly.
"What is your name?" The old man's voice still held it's proud tone, but Tensai felt that it was more or less a bluff... and that was only if the man knew how his voice sounded.
"I am Tensai," he said, noting the still nervous tone in his voice, and then quickly added, "Sir."
The old man nodded, accepting this information, but said nothing else. Tensai suddenly noticed something so peculiar that it was hard not to ask about; the man had two different colored eyes. His left eye was a bright blue, and his right was a dark blood red. Tensai thought for a confused moment that his own eyes were decieving him, and then realized exactly what it is.
The man was a summoner.
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