Sherral (
fluffiest_archadian) wrote in
milliways_bar2014-10-14 10:33 pm
Entry tags:
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[OOM: Important Political Figures Keep Dying, or Hearing Secondhand About Plot, a memoir by the entire populace of Ivalice. In which there is a lot of dying, bullying and violence within the Rabanastre Garrison, and religious oppression. Warnings for death, bully and violence, and religious oppression.]
Sherral's shoulders are tense when he comes in today, and perhaps a little more alarmingly, there's a rather livid bruise surrounding one bloodshot eye, and a rather wide (but scabbed over) gash just above it. He's not in the best of moods.
This is why he takes his tea today with whiskey in it when he reaches the bar, even though that is sacrilege, and why moments after ordering said tea with whiskey in it, he also just orders a small bottle of whiskey to swig neat while his tea is cooling down.
(And some rich tea biscuits. They're a luxury not often found in Dalmasca - something the few traders who do bring them in realised mere moments after they realised that Archadian soldiers would want them. He feels like a bit of luxury.)
Sherral's shoulders are tense when he comes in today, and perhaps a little more alarmingly, there's a rather livid bruise surrounding one bloodshot eye, and a rather wide (but scabbed over) gash just above it. He's not in the best of moods.
This is why he takes his tea today with whiskey in it when he reaches the bar, even though that is sacrilege, and why moments after ordering said tea with whiskey in it, he also just orders a small bottle of whiskey to swig neat while his tea is cooling down.
(And some rich tea biscuits. They're a luxury not often found in Dalmasca - something the few traders who do bring them in realised mere moments after they realised that Archadian soldiers would want them. He feels like a bit of luxury.)

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At the counter, he orders some donuts and coffee then looks over at Sherral who seems to have been through a battle, "What happened to you, sir?"
He's in a t-shirt and jeans but has a poise that comes from being trained as a courtier.
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Sherral glances at him - and, admittedly, at his donuts, but only for a fraction of a second - and strongly conisders saying that he fell down some stairs, just because he knows people at Milliways, and he knows how eager its patrons are to help, even when that help isn't entirely wanted.
"I was overly short with a superior officer," he says, and leaves the explanation at that. "I don't believe I've seen you around here before."
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He eats one of the donuts in about two bites, they're really good. Being struck by a superior officer is bad but its not his place to comment on a leader he doesn't know.
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Beat.
"Well, the Emperor was murdered, for a start."
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(He's no longer running a fever; the sensation of actually wanting to eat is remarkably pleasant.)
"That good a day?" he notes dryly. Downing whiskey like that... well, he's had those days.
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It feels a little weird to talk so casually about this. Problems closer to home aside, it's been a fairly earth-shattering week.
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He nods at the bruise. "How bad's the fighting?"
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That would imply some manner of reciprocation.
"I made the error of questioning another officer who was in a - less than generous mood."
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"Hey," he drawls, the traditional bro greeting.
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"I, er," he blinks, and gulps down some whiskey. "I think you're gettin' water on the counter."
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"I can take care of it," he drawls, twisting his wrist to make all the water on his person and the counter pop off and hover in the air. "So, hey. My name's Tahno. Who do I have the absolute pleasure of talkin' to?"
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"I, er. Captain Sherral Maduin, Western Division of the Rabanastre Garrison, 8th Fleet," he rattles off quickly, because formality is reassuring when you have no idea what's going on or why the stretching and gyrating is taking place. "It is, um. Nice. To meet you, Tahno."
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