Evening/Clear Skies
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/iC7A5wt.jpg)
The Preamble was always Cirice's favourite place in Ajteire. It was where she would relax with her comrades after patrols, it was where she and her family would go to once a week after lunch for tea. The quaint glorified camping site of an inn held many memories for the Kerasoka Pirate, many of them good. No matter how much she disassociated herself from her kin, she couldn't deny that she was still a Kerasoka of the Arbor. And while it didn't serve any hard liquor and only had hammocks to rent, it was as much an inn as any other for the denizens of Ajteire.
However her reason for this visit, the first in more than a century, was a dark one. She was there for work that would apparently make her and her crew very rich. But upon arrival, she had learned of a funeral that she had missed. The funeral of Uriel Vaisha. An ancient elf that was also unfortunately her father. She had visited the grave and had the misfortune of running into her siblings. She had changed a lot. The tone of her skin, her hair, the tattoo on her cheek, her size... but at the end of the day there was nothing that could masquerade her from her family.
And now she was in the Preamble. It was quiet and a mug of tea was gripped tightly between her hands as she sat on a bench far away from the other patrons. Her eyes were closed as she listened to the buzz of the fireflies around her. She knew Kerasoka were incapable of magic... but the fireflies always seemed to calm her down. She needed their aura more than ever... and a constant flow of Preamble tea. She knew the fairies spiced it up with some rejuvenation magic and she was going to take full advantage of it on this particular evening.
Among her own kin she looked very out of place with her weapons and outfit. But people left her alone, luckily. She was upset and angry. At her mother for not letting her know, at herself for even feeling a damn about the old fool, at her siblings for chasing her away and almost acting like his death was her fault. But what really got to her was just how lonely she felt. She felt pathetic for feeling so soft. She was a pirate, among the most dangerous to ever sail the seas... but she sat there and pondered on why she was sad about her estranged father's death and her family's cold reception.
Her eyes snapped open as she felt the hot tea spill over her hands. With a hiss she adjusted her grip and tossed the mug down in frustration. She wiped her hands against her pants and ran them over her face with a heavy sigh. "Fucking pathetic." she grumbled as she massaged her eyes and pushed her hair back. "Next time someone tells me I should come here for work, I'll slit their throat." she growled as she rose and took her mug to the bar counter for a refill. She was starting to think that whiskey would work a lot better for her predicament.
Darius Goldmane