A few jeers are thrown about, smiling faces abound and mugs smash into the tables as they sing rowdy shanties. One, however, sits quietly in the corner, hunched forwards on the stool with elbows on thighs. Nursing his ale and rubbing his neck while deep in thought, he lets out the occasional pensive sigh.
"'Ere, Marty!" One of the drunker guards begins. "What're ya sittin' by yourself for mate?"
He barely glanced up in response, only shrugging. "I... had my fortune read..."
"Who, Sayge? The furry thing? Don't listen to them, they are just cheap little pieces of paper... don't waste your silver in the Faire. Except fer the special reserve mead!"
"No!" he interrupts, "You don't understand. There's... someone new there. A... an elf, I think, though she has the greenest eyes, I've never seen anything like them before. And it's not like she looks at you, it's more like she looks into you." After a moment he takes a deep drink and wipes his mouth. "She said I'm going to lose someone important to me... soon."
The drunk spends no time at all recalling this to the group, who burst into laughter and coo.
"Sounds like Marty's admirin' the local elves! Hah, like 'em with ears so sharp they'll put your eyes out, do ya?"
Marty just shakes his head in disgust and grabs his gauntlets and helm, bounding into the darkening night. Scornful laughter echoes behind him, but outside is quiet and tranquil. The pale winter moon illuminates the paving stones, all the way to the tents outside Goldshire. He sighs. The fortune couldn't be real, could it? Maybe he should visit her again... the sun had barely set, she would not be asleep yet, surely. And he was a loyal guardsman of the realm, for Light's sake! He can go where he pleases!
With resolve, he refits his helm and strides towards the lilac faire tents, rising like giant toadstools from the darkened banks. The light to her residence was still on... a deep green hue that chills his bones as he gets close. A smell, like an electric sensation in his nostrils. A tune, an enchanting one...
***
The guards, the following evening, settle for their meal again. Mead flows amongst the belching and snorting, but that stool – that clandestine stool in the corner – remains empty.
(Coming very soon, a character to liven up the Darkmoonfaire and make it feel like... well... actually a faire! When in Elwynn, Fulvia will be offering RP in the form of seances (if organised beforehand), fortune telling (a real RP game with 16 possible outcomes), and tarot card reading (custom WoW-related tarots and an interpretation for your character! I have plans for one more choose-your-own-adventure style game in the works. Stay tuned!)
