Ok, so this is one work-in-progress I have going. It's been slow going, but what the heck, I'll post what I have slowly ;-) It's still pretty rough (you'll hear that excuse from me a lot, lol). I don't really have a title for it, just chapter names atm. But this is my most recent project that isn't just a character sketch. Feel free to rip me apart *puts on her flack vest*
(Oh yeah, and this is the same guy that's in my avatar here, heh. My little half elf troubador from EQ2, Fridai.)
Fridai's eyes snapped open. He sat up quickly in bed without knowing why. His sleep had been dreamless and solid tonight. Moonlight filtered down through his small inn room's windows: it well after midnight then, though still well before dawn. He scanned the room in the dim light and found nothing.
What was I doing last night...? he stifled a yawn and glanced at the bed beside him. Empty. Probably for the best, he reckoned, all the girls he met at the taverns these days were the same. But what...
*THUMP THUMP THUMP* A loud banging sounded at the thick, scarred door.
Did someone follow me home? he thought, How much did I drink last night?
*THUMP THUMP THUMP* "Aerin!" a muffled voice called from the cramped hallway on the other side of the door, "AERIN!!"
He froze. There were only two possibilities for someone to be using his born name: either the militia had found him again after all this time or...
"AERIN! C'mon, let me in!" the pounding continued. He recognised the voice now. Fridai wrapped a blanket around himself as he made his way to the door. He slid the bar up and opened the door quickly. Sure enough, there she was, hand raised to pound on the door again. She grinned a big, drunken smile when she saw him: a perfect row of perfect white teeth in a tiny, perfect little face. She looked as though she hadn't the strength to snap a twig, let alone make all that pounding or even lift the greataxe that was normally strapped to her back...
"Liath," he sighed, his rich baritone voice still thick from sleep, "get in here then. And for the love of all the little gods, please stop using that name..."
"All right," the petite redhead snorted, completely unladylike from such a flawlessly pretty countenance, "but you know, it's been four years now: if they'd been able to find you, they would have." She scanned the dimly lit room critically, "You're sober. Your bed is empty... hell, there isn't even any payment laying on the table. Is it your night off then?"
Fridai sighed at her tone but smiled a little, too: this was the annoying little girl he'd grown up with, "And you're upright. You're alone and even more startling, you're unarmed. What's the occasion?" he replied as she plopped down unceremoniously into his large, comfortable alder chair.
She left his question unanswered, as it was meant to be, "I never see you any more, Aer... Fridai," she wrinkled her nose, as if she found the name distasteful, "Your lame comebacks, your pretty face... I even missed the howling that you like to call 'music'. I should visit more often."
"Yeah," he shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes, "I really like pounding on my door at all hours of the night. But I must say, I missed you too, Little Bitch," he paused a moment after the old nickname and sat down lightly on the edge of his bed, across from her, "though my aim is improving," he finished.
"You are turning into such an old woman," she replied, laughing, "but enough pleasantries. I have a job lined up, and I need your help..."
Fridai leaned forward, listening intently...