Where Antlers Glow and Stories Flow

I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain
I am the voice of your hunger and pain

The White Hart’s entrance was marked by the soft, ethereal glow of luxere antlers, their luminous forms curling gracefully around the door. Catalina paused briefly to admire them before stepping inside, the warm hum of conversation and the inviting scent of rich ales and wines drawing her in. The soft glow of the antlers seemed to wrap around the entire space, bathing everything in a faint, comforting light that contrasted the grandeur of Stormbreak's cold skies.

Inside, the inn was lively but intimate, a place where stories were shared in hushed tones over cups of the finest spirits. The air was warm, filled with the aroma of aged wines and spiced ales, and the gentle clink of glasses as patrons toasted to their fortunes, victories, or mere survival. Catalina’s boots clicked softly against the stone floor as she made her way past tables where locals and travelers alike gathered.

She found a quiet spot near the corner, where she could observe the room, her red hair catching the light as she settled in. Luxere antlers adorned the walls as well, their faint glow creating a mesmerizing dance of shadows that flickered across the wooden beams. Catalina’s eyes flickered toward the bar, where bottles of exquisite spirits gleamed, their labels hinting at origins from all across Caido.

As a server approached, Catalina offered a friendly smile. “I’ll try whatever you think is best,” she said with a light laugh, knowing that whatever they brought would likely be something she’d never tasted before. Her eyes scanned the room again, lingering on a few faces—merchants, skyship captains, even a few cloaked figures seated in the far shadows.



Koa

Catalina

I am the voice that always is calling you
I am the voice, I will remain

Koa

Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake
Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

It's a relatively quiet evening at the Hart - which is to say, no fights have broken out, nor has Mateo appeared to round everyone into impromptu karaoke. Still, enough voices murmur over each other to create a comforting, numbing hum, into which one can easily slide, losing themselves among the flow of people going about their lives. Small quarrels; large laughter; shocking revelations; tenth retelling of an old, familiar tale - all of these and more ripple through the bar, as much a part of the atmosphere as the gentle luxere light, the smell of spirits and pine.

Koa lets it wrap around him as he eases in the door. Fresh off a double patrol shift, the young man is weary, his muscles sore. He's been pushing himself too hard, he knows this, and yet he does not, cannot, make himself stop. Rest means thinking, and thinking means feeling, and feeling- well, he's not in the mood for that. So he dulls the pain with work and liquor, surrounds himself with humming voices to block out the ones in his head.

Finding an empty seat in a corner, the tired Dragoon settles in. There's a redhead nearby, pretty an unfamiliar; he glances at her, once and again, the beginning of a flirtatious greeting dying before it can escape his tongue. He knows he has to put himself back out there - Flora had, after all. Koa's confidence has taken a beating, and the idea of trying to pick up a stranger has nausea rising in his gut.

Instead he waits as the server approaches, an iced, layered drink perched on his silver tray. It smells faintly of citrus and is garnished with something that looks dehydrated, and damn but Koa can't contain his curiosity. "What's that?" the Dragoon wonders as the glass is set down, leaning closer to look between stranger, server, and drink.

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great
But while in this world I think I'll take my whiskey neat