and on to the glory at my right hand
It's a cozy little bar on a cozy little night that just so happens to last for an entire week, and Ronin is kicking back and relaxing. This is a novelty in itself, given the events of the past seasons and the ever-mounting war, and he's not unaware of that fact. So he sinks into the comfort and quiet music tinkling from a piano nearby, swirling the liquor in his glass and glancing over the gilded surface of his table.
He's playing solitaire, of all things, but given that there's no one around to gamble with currently, he might as well try his luck against the cards. Flipping over a few and mulling his choices while sipping his drink, the Huntsman plays his next move and then slouches back in his seat again, as if giving the deck time to decide what it would show him next. Out in the streets through the window he can spy the dazzle of coloured lanterns mingling with the falling snow - and if anything could be peaceful, Ronin believes this would be it.
He's playing solitaire, of all things, but given that there's no one around to gamble with currently, he might as well try his luck against the cards. Flipping over a few and mulling his choices while sipping his drink, the Huntsman plays his next move and then slouches back in his seat again, as if giving the deck time to decide what it would show him next. Out in the streets through the window he can spy the dazzle of coloured lanterns mingling with the falling snow - and if anything could be peaceful, Ronin believes this would be it.
ronin
