There is something different to the markets. Maybe it's the way Morrighan walks down the cobblestone street with tired eyes. She is usually more aware of the crowds and looking for meddling kids to yell at. She'll glance at the merchants, maybe browse a couple tables, then leave. She'll notice how some couples are close together, speaking in suspicious, hushed tones.But not today. Today she is distracted by her thoughts and a growing hole in her heart. Her mind is a tangled mess of emotions she can't begin to sort through. She may have a crush on a girl she barely knows. Isra is leaving. (And, worth adding, Moira is still around).
Maybe she is afraid. She's never been great with change, especially big changes, or really anything involving emotion. Unless it's anger, she's pretty good at mastering that alongside her fire. This isn't exactly something she can solve by burning though, even if it is satisfying.
The Warden finds herself at the bar, which for her, is an odd place to be unless she's patrolling. Today it's a personal visit and even the bartender is surprised. She orders something a lot harder than what she normally goes for. Maybe it'll untangle the mess of her thoughts. Maybe it won't.
There is a familiar mass of hair in the corner of her eye and she turns to see the palomino sitting a few spaces down. Morrighan snorts and walks over to him, her expression neutral.
"Hey," she says in an almost awkward but somewhat confrontational way. Her mind is too muddled to have prepared a proper start to the conversation. "You still owe me a story you know." Maybe a bar is just the right setting for a storyteller and someone who just wants to keep her mind off the inevitable. A story could be a good distraction. To their right is a stone fireplace and Morr can't help but eye the flames flickering behind the grate. They seem to grow brighter after a few moments.
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