WICKED’S REST
Tavern and Funeral Parlor
Tavern and Funeral Parlor
《⋯《 ⋯ ❖ ⋯ 》⋯》
❰ Adventurers Guild ❱
My time is coming to an end… Chrys mused as he looked out through the window, the rolling pillows of clouds soliciting a deep sigh from the geomancer who owned the now barely sustainable Wicked’s Rest Tavern (and Funeral Parlor). How long has it been since he’s made any profit from his establishments? How long has it been since he went out there for an adventure or two? How long has it been since he’s felt the urge, the passion, to play, to live?

❝ It’s been too long... ❞
Chrys’ lips curled into a smile as the very earth underneath his feet whispered to him the arrival of a familiar face. With his geomancy at its most powerful, he could tell whether the person (at least he thinks it’s a person) who had just crossed his space was a danger to him or not. With the funeral parlor part of the tavern basically a decorated cave, his tremor sense was a far better alarm system than any tinkerer can develop. It was a bold statement, sure, but who could argue? His thoughts were his own, a private safe space where he could muse and reminisce and do whatever else he could think of.
Stretching his fingers around his cup, he savored the warmth his freshly brewed tea could offer. It tasted the same as it always did, as he remembered, but where were those who shared the memory? It has been a while since he was in touch with old friends. A lot of them have disappeared, gone busy, or maybe even died. He did not know for certain what was what, but if it’s the latter, he’d rather not know. Chrys himself has been busy outside of the game, in the real world. Maybe it was just scheduling conflicts after all. Maybe it was just the inevitable end of things, as people change, lives move on, and all that anyone is ever left with are the memories of the good, old days.

❝ ...Alice. Come to pay your old friend a visit? Or are you here to check my wares? ❞
Calling the corpses, silent and still on their respective earthen slabs, as his wares felt a bit off. At least part of him felt a bit off. The other part? People die, Lander and Starcalled alike, despite certain differences. To have others find use for what remains of you, wasn’t that a good death? It was for Chrys, though he wasn’t quite sure what an innocent little girl like Alice wanted with such remains. He often left her to her devices whenever she came to visit, but today was different: Chrys wanted to stay. Rather, he felt no reason to leave. Why would he, when he was now one of them himself? He heaved another sigh and took a long, drawn-out sip of his tea.
@Lucia Mierz