Aleron slowly drifted back and forth to consciousness, a great pain throbbing at the back of his head. He groaned as he felt his bones aching from the fall. A noise came from nearby, but he couldn't quite hear it. Soon his ears could focus on it better, though, and he could make out words. "Sir. Are you alright?"
He groggily looked around, cracking his neck and cringing at the sudden flare of pain. His only thoughts were of his mother's ring. His money? That could be earned again, with a fair amount of work. He could at least get food that night from Gen the blind man who saw more than Aleron ever did. But his mother's ring was irreplaceable, the only token he had of her memory and his single tie to Hilsboro. He felt a deep and resounding resentment for the cursed thief, with her green skin and black pony tail. He tasted bile and instead focused on what was happening around him.
A face leaned over him, with long black hair and dirty skin. For a moment he feared it was the thief, but recognized it as the bard in the inn. But this person was a man, not a woman. He looked up at the person's face in silent confusion, wondering how he mistook her--his--gender. It must've been the person who asked if he was alright.
Another voice came from the mouth of the alley, which, now that the moon had emerged from the clouds, was rather short. It seemed miles long earlier, and he couldn't quite explain this either.
"What happened here," Aleron heard Gen say. The man's presence, though he had just met him a few minutes earlier, comforted Aleron and he twisted to try and get up. His head throbbed continuously and he noticed bloody scrapes and bruises along his arms. He'd fallen on a small pile of lose bricks from his magical barrage just prior. He tries to hold his footing but stepped on a brick and lost his balance, falling once again. He knew he must've been a pitiful sight.
