[img]https://i.imgur.com/osYM6ba.png[/img]	
[b]T[/b]wilight was Vane’s favorite time of day. Most people acted like they’d disintegrate into dust if they got caught by the orange-purple of the setting sun, and it’s not like he could blame them what with all the cut-throats lurking around, but Vane found peace in the absence of people on the streets. It made Vaucluse feel ever so slightly different, and different was better. Sometimes he would imagine what it would be like to reach the end of the horizon, to fall off the edge of the world. Would the sun burn him up, or would he fall into an abyss? Maybe he’d just meet the dawn if he kept chasing the day far enough.

	Well, whatever. The [i]real[/i] best thing about twilight? That’s when the cats came out. A little grey cat Vane affectionately named Smokey was eating a chunk of beef out of Vane’s extended hand at the moment. He felt no greater satisfaction than making sure this stupid stray cat was well-fed; it was a little way to feel like he had some kind of control in the world.

	“Vane! I told you to stop feeding the strays!” His dad’s deep voice reverberated in Vane’s chest and he jumped up straight in response. He turned to look at the stoney mug of his father, but the frustration on his face stung too much to maintain eye-contact with. “You know that stuff’s for Alden! Get going already!”

	“I know, I know...” Vane sighed and turned back away. This was the last job for the day, which meant that the quicker he delivered the goods, the sooner he could pass out in his bed. But the quicker he moved, the sooner he had to talk to that scary old guy. But he really wanted to go to bed. But he really didn’t want to do it. But he--

	Ugh! This was so stupid! His dad [i]knew[/i] the owner of the tavern hated Vane’s guts, yet he made him deliver a package of cured meats to the dude! Last time Vane was there, Alden made seventeen different rude comments. Vane counted. It was awful, and he couldn’t even say anything back without jeopardizing the reputation of the family business… This was all those stupid monsters’ fault. If they didn’t exist, then they wouldn’t be terrorizing all the ranchers in the area, and if they weren’t terrorizing the cattle, then their butchershop would have enough meat to open shop like normal and they wouldn’t be making special deliveries! Some people say that ‘demons aren’t real’ or whatever nonsense they want to believe, but if you go outside the town walls for one minute, you’d know that those things aren’t normal!

	A shiver ran down Vane’s spine. He suddenly remembered the rumors he heard going around. Strange men sauntering through the town at night, killing anyone they saw. Apparently one of the tailors’ husbands went missing last week. No body was found though, just a trail of blood streaking down an alley. See, criminals? Vane can handle. He’s tussled with thieves more than once, and he’s not too afraid of them anymore. But demons? Vane knew in his heart they were real, and for some reason, they were coming. He wanted to run away, to move towns and forget these monsters ever existed, but something inside of him knew that there was no avoiding the reality of their sick little world and one day he’d have to face it head-on.

	He only came out of his thoughts when he found himself standing outside his destination: a dingy pub known for its… interesting patrons. Townsfolk knew it for what it was, but nobody really said anything since they didn’t want to scare away any travellers from what was had become a hub of commerce. Commerce of all types. One time Vane saw someone trying to sell their kid. Some creepy dude bought her. It was a memory Vane actively tried to forget, because if he didn’t forget it, he worried he’d realize just how bad the world could be.

	After taking a deep breath in, Vane stepped through the front door and marched his way over to the bar where some six-foot-six dude with a billion scars on his face was shouting stories at strangers. Vane smacked his package onto the counter and stared at the older man until the travel tale died and Alden noticed the butcher boy making a face at him. He briefly wondered if trying to assert his dominance in the situation was working, but any confidence he had immediately disappeared as soon as Alden spoke.

	“The hell do you want?” Alden growled. Wrow, tiger. Wouldn’t want a customer to be interested your goods and services or anything. Better scare him off before, God forbid, he pays for something.

	“I’m delivering you cured meats. Isn’t it obvious?” He was holding a basket of beef. What else would he be doing? That was literally the only reason he has ever interacted with Alden. The row of men seated along the bar giggled to themselves and it made Vane on edge for some reason.

	He rumbled something unintelligible before grunting in an ambiguous tone. “Just leave it in the kitchen.”

	“You’re being awfully hospitable today.” Vane rolled his eyes, but he decided to not push the issue, and instead he disappeared into the door nearby to hand over the goods to a grungy-looking cook making an even grosser looking stew. Seeing the fire under the pot reminded Vane of the days before Alden hated him. Oh how he missed eating that suspicious gruel. At least, he thought he missed it, until his stomach churned as he watched the man chop chunks of beef into it, and the fact that he couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad churning made him scared enough to duck back out of the kitchen. Before he could leave, though, there was one last matter of business to take care of: Vane stepped back over to Alden’s bar and interrupted story time yet again.

	“What?” Alden barked, shooting an evil eye at the loser staring up at him.

	“You need to pay me.” Vane said slowly, trying his damndest not to lace every single word with contempt. “I give you meat, you give me money.”

	Alden narrowed his eyes and his voice hit a deeper note. “I already paid your daddy. So get going before I kick ya outta the place myself.” His broad hand clenched around a flagon of beer so tightly the wood almost cracked. That message was definitely received.

	“Alright, alright.” Vane raised his hands in defence before stepping away. You accidentally set a man’s pub on fire once, and all of the sudden he wants to kill you every time he sees you. Hasn’t he heard of a thing called forgiveness? Regardless, every minute he spent in that scent cloud of alcohol, smoke, and sweat made Vane more and more nauseous, so he decided not to linger and made a beeline for the door. Stepping out into the fresh evening air felt like he was being reborn, really-- today was a long day and he was ready to finally end it.

	That is, until he turned his head and noticed the dude staring at a leaf so intensely that Vane was worried it would explode.

	“Hey, you okay, buddy? You look like you’re about to throw up or something.” Vane cocked his head cautiously. Usually he wouldn’t talk to weird drunks since they rarely had anything important to say, but it was rare to see someone wearing peacock colors around these parts. That was like asking to get mugged. “Y’know, if you need somewhere to stay, there’s plenty of places still open around town..” Vane leaned in a bit, side-eying the front door all the while. “But if you ask me, go down the street a bit and hit up a different tavern. Alden’s place is way too expensive for what you get.”

	“Wait.” Vane looked the stranger in the eye for a good second before taking a slow step back. “Are you… Oh God, are you [i]the[/i] Tristan Baske?“ That definitely explained the snazzy get-up. Ooooh, this was kind of awkward. He’d heard bad things about Tristan Baske, and Vane didn’t feel like messing with rich people. What was he supposed to say? He already engaged. There was no backing out. Vane didn’t really know what level of formality was necessary for talking with one of the richest people in Vaucluse, and he especially didn’t know how to talk to one when they were drunk. “Uh… Do you… need help? With anything? My lordship?”

[@Ambra]