Don't Give Up on the Good Times (Nafsharky)

[Yuiven]

(This takes place, chronologically, between "Soldier of the Queen" and "If You Wish to be a Proper Soldier.")

Dusk had fallen as Beowulf walked down the street, bathed in the anaemic light of the street lanterns. The natural highlights and shadows carved the soft edges and sharp corners of his features in his newly-gained bipedal form. After all these years, he'd finally achieved the second form of Card evolution! He wasn't exactly sure what had caused this strange and wonderful transformation. Was it the result of intensive training as a foot soldier in the Hearts Militia, or a sign from above that his life was finally heading in the right direction? Well, whatever the reason, this crow wasn't going to look a gift horse...

A black cloud descended over Beowulf's head as all thoughts abruptly shifted to his dearly departed best friend. He came to a halt in a patch of light, standing next to one of the street lanterns. Reaching out, he placed a yellow-and-brown brindle patterned hand ending in white claws on the cool, smooth metal; leaning heavily against it for support. Beowulf bowed his head, casting his face into shadow. Tears were pricking at his eyes, but he refused to cry; blinking furiously to dam the flood which threatened to spill over. He sighed deeply. I miss Wiglaf; I wish he were still here. But Wiglaf wasn't here and he wouldn't be coming back. He had already told himself that a thousand times. The Percheron was gone. It was time to stop beating a dead horse. Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, but he wished it had been someone else. Don't get him wrong, however, he was grateful to be alive, but a part of him also wished he had died that Day too. It just wasn't fa–

Suddenly Beowulf froze, his breath hitched, as he sensed what he hadn't noticed until now. Someone was watching him. He could feel a pair of eyes boring into his back.

Dammit! Beowulf cursed himself for being taken off-guard. How could he have been so careless?! He should have known better than to be distracted while out on his own in a seedy section of the Capital. He should've checked out the immediate area. A potential assailant might be ghosting his movements, waiting for a perfect opportunity to jump out of the shadows onto the unsuspecting Jossigy. With every sense on alert from his unease, Beowulf whipped his head around, glaring behind him. Releasing his grip on the street lantern, he balled his hand into a fist. Then he half-turned his torso, ready for a fight if this idiot wanted to bring it on.

...No one was there.

The street was deserted. Beowulf unwound minutely. Not willing to let his guard down completely, he turned his whole body around; continuing to glare as he searched the shadows for whomever was following him. His eyes adjusted slowly to pick out faint shapes in the darkness: flat outlines of buildings, crates and barrels stacked in nooks and crannies, and trash littering the gutters. He strained his hearing, listening intently for any sounds in the eerie silence.

Perturbed, Beowulf raised an eyebrow and scratched the back of his head. "That's weird," he said aloud. "Ain't no one there. Though I could have sworn that someone was watching me..." He shivered, suddenly cold, even though the area was at normal temperature. His gaze lingered a little longer down the length of empty street before he shook his head and resumed walking, chiding himself for imagining things that weren't there.

Still, try as he might, Beowulf couldn't seem to shake the feeling that he wasn't the only one on the street tonight.

* * *

Later, Beowulf slowed to a halt again when he noticed the alluring reflection of golden light on the cobblestones from a window. Upon glancing up he instantly recognized the infamous Furgus's Bar and Pub. He'd had many a drink there when he first migrated to the Capital. The drunken reminder evoked a smile. A cold brew was exactly what he needed!

His mind made up, Beowulf opened the door and crossed its threshold. Carefully he folded his broad wings- now separated from his arms- so as not to slam them in the door (because that'd hurt), before closing it firmly behind him. Then he began weaving his way through the colourful crowd of noisy patrons as he made a beeline toward the bar.

[/|/afamere]

Things were not going too well for the Forest Herron. Things just always seemed to fall onto him and made him think that things could never get any better than what it was now. It was sad really to know that almost everything that you try to do usually falls back on you and made you feel incompetent in what you had done. That even went as far as his professional life to his personal life. Things just never worked out the way he wanted them to, usually falling apart in some way or another.

So with that on his mind he would start the long walk from the hotel that he had rented to get away from the courts to the bar that he frequented quite often. Suits, they even knew his name and had his drink waiting for him when he opened the swinging doors. That could be seen as a great thing, or a big drunk. Either or… he liked this place because most people didn’t question why you are there, or even to bother talking to you. It was just a place to drink and think.

The streets were quite barren at this time of the night. He had thought that they would be fuller of other people and activities, and yet… it was desolate. He got a strange feeling that someone was always there watching him, waiting for him to slip up. It felt weird… though his training as a professional mail currier had trained him well in watching the shadows and around the bends. He always was on guard, for now he was protecting his life. Nothing was better than killing royalty to upset the balance of things in the world. He had already an attempt on his life once before once he had taken the office of Queen, and from that time being he had never once let down his guard.

He thought he saw something, a person leaning on a lamp post… how odd. He waited for a few seconds and shifted behind a dumpster… things just didn’t add up at the moment. People knew that he was always ready to help anyone and ready to talk. Could this be a trap? he thought as he watched the avian before him. He studied the way he shifted suddenly and turned behind him, his fists balling up. That made Sabe move quickly and silently behind the dumpster where the shadows of the lamp not but ten feet in front of it hiding him in a deep shadow. He would stay there for several minutes before daring to take a peak, and to his liking; there was no one there.

He looked up and around and then started to walk to the bar once again, more on guard and his cane held tightly in his hand, its wicked looking roots curling about his fingers. It made a good club… or defensive magic’s were good as well.

---

Sabe finally arrived at the front of the bar, a sigh of relief escaping his beak as he pushed open the swinging doors to enter throwing them wide so as to not clip his two wings that protruded out of his back. One a brilliant white and the other the colors of his homeland. He would cast a look about the room before making a bee line to the bar where he could already see the bartender pouring his drink for the night.

He wasn’t paying close attention as he approached the bar and sat on one of the sturdy stools. When he looked next to him did he notice the avian that he had spotted in the street before. His eyes wide and a small sound escaping his throught. He didn’t make a sound though when his drink was placed before him and he took a gulp of the strong whiskey before his would be assailant would make his move.