Smoke circled around candles, dripping with pale wax, appearing above the countless flames of candles through the inn. The room was still dim, because although chandeliers hung from the ceilings in great numbers, their light couldn't pierce the veil of smoke and dust, lingering in the stale air. There was the odor of sweat, ale, beer, food, all mixed together in a combination much resembling the mixture of shouts, talking, singing, clinking of dishes and thudding on tables, that echoed from one wall to another.
Athran, sitting by a small table in the corner all alone, grabbed his goblet of red wine and drank it all at once. He was just passing through the town, and there were no pleasant memories of this place inside his head... He shook his head and let his long hair cover most of his face, hiding in the shadows. No need to be seen, no need to be heard, and no need to be recognized. A dark shape moved towards him, and his right hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword, hanging by his side, but it was just a drunk man's shade, stumbling towards the counter. He sighed. Years spent in wilderness made him wary, but in the city, he felt paranoid and overly worried about his surroundings.
Inns were never very safe, especially when one attracts trouble like sugar attracts wasps and flies, but grabbing the sword with every sound and every sign of movement was not necessary. There was no wild beast to jump out of the dark, and drunkards and thieves were no match neither for him, nor for the chainmail he wore underneath his coat... He sighed. More wine will solve it, and tomorrow he'll travel again.
A loud voice rang through the air in a song, not melodic for his ears, but amusing enough for the people in the inn. Many of them begun dancing. Athran just rolled his eyes over... Dancing and merriment. Not something for me.
He saw the jug of wine he asked for a long while ago being brought to him by a woman in a green dress. Curls of her dark hair were jumping around her face like springs when she walked to his table and put the wine down. "Dance, won't you?"
"No. Leave the wine here and dance yourself, if you want." Athran growled, grabbing the jug and showing her to leave him alone, rather rudely.
He needed no attention, and he wanted none. She looked too much like Yhrana... Every adelan woman looked too much like Yhrana.
Another knife under his ribs was the last thing he wanted.
Leave the wine on the table, and get lost, that was it.