Hey guys, I haven't been here since FOREVER. I actually made another story called To Kill An Enderdragon, but I didn't want to continue it due to the fact that I didn't enjoy the world as much. I found it too plain. But now I'm back with EnderFire. I want the world to be a bit more colorful, and by colorful, I mean black and whi--no. .-.
I got no summary for this at the moment, but romance????? Idk anymore.
[this is where the summary's supposed to be]
P.S. I have no title in my mind so I just thought of Enderman and fire. Lol.
The pub was crowded at night, people were ordering drinks and turning into a completely different person by the end of this. Ladies dressed in frilly skirts and blouse aimlessly wandered around with a cocoa-colored tray that they held in balance. On top of those trays were mugs of foamy, bubbly drinks. It seemed these were the ones getting the men intoxicated. The atmosphere of this place was noisy, the exact opposite of the bar I went into last town. It was livelier, so I wouldn’t complain as much. I just didn’t find the excitement that everybody was sharing.
One lady noticed a figure sitting by the corner of the pub. He—or rather I—hadn’t had a table, resting by a place that she deemed dirty. Walking over to him, she noted the first thing that caught her fancy. It was his brilliant and mysterious lavender eyes. Never had she seen such colors on a human being nor had she seen a person who would enjoy sitting on the ground in this pub. The next thing was his warm golden hair and the small, almost antique, round glasses resting upon the bridge of his nose. Apart from all the men around her partying ‘till the end of night, this person was quietly reading a book. He had on a sleeveless beige leather jerkin, a white wool shirt on the inside. A cotton pants of the lighter color has the leather jerkin complimented the style along with skin boots rising up to his knees. It was wrapped many times from ankle to knee with a small rope to keep it from falling.
Snapping out of her daze, she realized she was still at work and hurriedly came closer to me. She gave me the same smile as the other lady who greeted me when I first arrived. Then she asked why I didn’t take a seat. I told her that I was more comfortable on the ground. She pouted and replied, “Well, you won’t get a good sight for the show if you just sit there. Come on!”
Proceeding to grab my wrist, she yanked me up from the dusty floor and pushed me to another corner, except I was to sit on a chair this time. I sighed, giving her a look and noting that she was waiting for me to order something. I glanced around another time, seeing that the bubbly, gilt drink was what everybody was getting, I said, “I’ll take what those people are getting.”
“One honey ale, coming up.”
I nodded, taking in a word that I just learned.
That girl seemed to understand me as to why she gave me a table that wasn’t particularly near anybody going crazy. And though this was a bit far apart, this place had nice view of the stage. She said something about a show. Was this why everybody was here?
Touching the leather-bound book, I read the title, “About The Nether.” It described a man’s journey into the Nether and the horrors of the world. It was fascinating to me and I assumed for most people because they had never been to the Nether. It certainly sounded a lot better than my homeland. Lava waterfalls flowing down, weird blocks that slowed down your movements, ghast firing fireballs at you, and many other hellish things. The End, on the other hand, was a dark and boring place to be. No humans ever visited that world, mostly because they probably never heard of it. In The End, it was ruled by an Ender Dragon and though my fellow comrades had no problem with it, I did. It was the reason why I left The End for the Overworld. I had no reason to stay with a tyrant.
Placing the book down, I thought about the Nether. If I was to stay there, it probably would’ve gotten dull also. It was only one color. The Overworld was colorful and filled with different cultures. This was my favorite world.
The same girl came back with a mug in her hand, placing it down on my table. I thanked her as she left. I remembered those people having a name for their position. It was a waiter or something. Anyways, I gazed at the drink. People were drinking these, but I never once tried this. Draping my fingers around the handle, I pulled it up to my mouth and took a sip. Immediately I slammed it on the table with a frown on my face. It was bitter—a little bit sweet—how could people drink this? While complaining, I had another.
By the time that I finished, the room darkened and a single light pointed at the stage. Where that light was coming from, I had no idea. There was a woman standing upon the platform, she was holding what appeared to be a guitar, but thinner. I became curious about this instrument she was holding. After a second, she started playing and felt like all the shouting and yelling had died down. The atmosphere felt mellow. Everybody became quiet, a sign of respect. I watched her performance with my utmost attention, gawking at every single movement she made to play her song.
This was a nice city. I wished that it stayed this way.
The pub was closing and everybody was leaving. So I did the same. I paid my bill and stepped out of the building. It was after midnight and people were struggling to walk home. I couldn’t tell whether I was sad or happy considering that I didn’t have the same effect they were having. Noticing one of them throwing up, I went with the second option.
After this experience, it reminded me of how good it was that I escaped from the tyrant. I had yet to adapt with the human culture. But what popped inside my mind was the fact that I could had done this without a fellow friend. I was separated from that friend the moment we fled. Mao was nowhere to be seen since these past two months.
Shaking my head, I set off to find a place to stay for the night. It was stupid of me to not rent a room first. I sighed, walking about in search of an inn.
Not far from the pub was an inn called Nice Inn. I found it to be a peculiar name and when I went inside, I asked if it was pronounced Nice. The lady behind the counter chuckled, correcting me, “It’s Ni-ce.”
I raised a bow, but gave no more thoughts to it. I said, “How much is it for a night here?”
“It’s five silvers.”
The price was higher than my previous stays at other towns, though it was a pretty shabby place. The Nice Inn was clean and organized. I hadn’t seen the bedrooms yet, but I supposed it was the same as the front. I pulled out five silver coins from my bag and handing them over to the lady. She thanked me and in return, gave me the key to my room. I nodded, and went up the stairs.
In the lobby of this inn, the door set at the south and the reception table was opposite of it. To the right of the table was the stairs up to the rooms. In the middle of all this were couple of tables and chairs and they had served ales and food. It appeared all the people from the pub moved to this inn in order to drink the night away.
Gawking at the tag attached to the keys, I read the number of the room. 218. Looking at the numbers as I stepped off the stairs, I guessed mine was towards the end. As I was finding my room, one of the doors opened and out came a girl with chestnut hair. Her hair was braided in four strands, reaching down to her lower back. Bandages wrapped around her right eye. What clothed her was this wench dress. From her waist and up was the maroon corset. The sable laces were tied tightly. Inside was a cotton chemise and the sleeves’ length were abreast her chest. Her long skirt, dropping down to her ankles, was a dark colored brown, though I assumed that it was stygian at first. On the bottom of her feet were raised shoes, giving her more of an advantage over me if we were to compare heights.
My first reaction to seeing her was for me to smile and greet her. She did the same. We should be on our way, but I managed to spark a conversation.
“The noise woke you up?”
“Not particularly.” Then she paused for a second. “Well, maybe just a little bit. Heh. Did you just get here?”
She eyed the key in my hands. I replied, “Yeah. I got back from The Happy Earl.”
“Ah. That place is quite the attraction, isn’t it?”
Small chats. A conversation about nothing. This was going nowhere. Why did I decide to do this? Perhaps it could be this feeling in my gut that I didn’t want her to leave. I sighed, pinching the middle of my brows. The woman tilted her head, a bit confused about my reaction. It made her worried, and she was probably wondering if she did something wrong. So she ended up introducing herself, “My name is Asta. What about you?”
One thing that I had observed from this person was the fact that she wasn’t exactly staring at me. It was unfortunate that my body was shorter than most, so she was taller than me about an inch or two (if you excluded the heels that added in another fingerbreadth). Her gaze went over the top of my head. Our distance were the suitable length, but I felt like she couldn’t see me. Was she blind?
“Sorry to intrude, but…” I stepped forward—disregarding human etiquette—and waved my hand in front of her. She blinked, her eyeball following the movement of my hand. Suddenly, she grabbed it, finally gaining vision of me. Looking down, she apologized, figuring out my rash actions. She was partially blind, but how could she not realize that I was inches below her. Releasing me, Asta gave an apologetic smile, explaining, “I’m still getting used to my new eyes. My left is only one that’s working currently after the surgery.”
I made a pointless “ah” and went with that. Having the senses that humans weren’t fond of nosy folks, I sojourned there. Asta, on the other hand, found herself to continue clarifying her situation, “It was during my travels.”
Then she made a wave to gesture a saying, “Do you want to go down and chat or perhaps tomorrow? It’s late and you should get some sleep. I’m getting tired of standing around.”
“Nah, I’m a nocturnal, but do you want to go down to the lobby? It’s noisy down there.”
She agreed and suggested that we went for a walk around Roma—the city. “I’ve recovered from my injuries so now I’m back here to my hometown. I can give you a tour. There are many things to see at night.”