Her something was opportunity, followed closely by fun. In the end though, for all the fun Weaver does have in this life, it was about survival. Not just survival, but surviving well. She didn’t just want to eat, but she wanted to feast. She didn’t just want to drink, but she wanted to indulge. She didn’t just want to live, but she wanted to thrive. The Grounds presented opportunity, the sort she had never actually dreamed of. Exactly what she might find here, she didn’t know. What she did know was that she’d have to return to make use of it, that coming to the Hollowed Grounds was not a one time occurance.
She follows, not minding the walk. He is good company and the destination is worth it. Still, she is reminded of her conversation with Sascha and the mention of horses, and she can’t help but think that they would indeed be useful here. Maybe she wouldn’t be sweating bullets by the time she arrived, and she is thankful for her hair that mostly soaks up the sweat. Mostly. The place they enter looks like it was once a house, but the inside is dark and cool (thank the gods), and Weaver rolls up her sleeves to reveal small but well muscled arms. The inside is beautiful, leaps and bounds above the hole-in-the-wall tavern that she frequents in Halo. Her mouth almost drops. Almost.
On the outside she keeps her cool though, making her way to the barstool toward the far end of the bar, sitting a few in from the end itself. There is no special reason except that she sits about here in the tavern back in Halo, and old habits are hard to ignore. Sunjata makes his way to the other side of the bar, a griffin landing on his shoulder with a yip. “Well hello, and who might you be?” she asks the griffin, fully expecting Jata to answer but addressing the companion all the same. It would be rude not to, after all.
He asks what she would like to drink, and Weaver eyes the assortment of bottles behind the bar. There are choices, far more than Halo has ever presented, and so she decides to enjoy them. ”Sipping, I think. I’d like to taste this good booze of yours.” If it was truly good, it wasn’t the type to be drunk in one quick swig. Besides, she is in no rush to leave her current company, or the smell of good food wafting from a kitchen somewhere.
She follows, not minding the walk. He is good company and the destination is worth it. Still, she is reminded of her conversation with Sascha and the mention of horses, and she can’t help but think that they would indeed be useful here. Maybe she wouldn’t be sweating bullets by the time she arrived, and she is thankful for her hair that mostly soaks up the sweat. Mostly. The place they enter looks like it was once a house, but the inside is dark and cool (thank the gods), and Weaver rolls up her sleeves to reveal small but well muscled arms. The inside is beautiful, leaps and bounds above the hole-in-the-wall tavern that she frequents in Halo. Her mouth almost drops. Almost.
On the outside she keeps her cool though, making her way to the barstool toward the far end of the bar, sitting a few in from the end itself. There is no special reason except that she sits about here in the tavern back in Halo, and old habits are hard to ignore. Sunjata makes his way to the other side of the bar, a griffin landing on his shoulder with a yip. “Well hello, and who might you be?” she asks the griffin, fully expecting Jata to answer but addressing the companion all the same. It would be rude not to, after all.
He asks what she would like to drink, and Weaver eyes the assortment of bottles behind the bar. There are choices, far more than Halo has ever presented, and so she decides to enjoy them. ”Sipping, I think. I’d like to taste this good booze of yours.” If it was truly good, it wasn’t the type to be drunk in one quick swig. Besides, she is in no rush to leave her current company, or the smell of good food wafting from a kitchen somewhere.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
