17) Write 2 bits, one where your character is drinking something (anything) on a good day, and one where they’re drinking something on a bad day.
a) Razul sipped at his saín, the steam from the pungent red brew curling up in a wave. The heat felt good on his lips, his tongue, and he enjoyed the first taste of home in far too long. To find such a delicacy here in the tangled backwoods of Pencheira : bliss. He sipped again, peace seeping into him. The other Swords were out scouting, but they wouldn’t find anything. Helat was as quiet as their contacts had claimed. Razul indulged in the luxury of wincing in pain as he shifted his injured leg. Tae would insist on halting their search for days they couldn’t afford if she knew the extent of his injury. Instead he’d just take his ease tonight and hope the stiffness lessened in the morning.
Part b to follow, busy work morning so far, but wanted to get the prompt up. Get crackin'!
Okay, got a chance to bust out a quick second bit.
b) Razul eyed the inhabitants of the inn. His gaze shifted from the mercenary at the bar to the somber young soldier who’d clearly just been blooded. He took in details, mock-drinking from a mug of stale beer he’d nursed for an almost obvious amount of time. Across from him Derek signaled the barmaid for another round, clearly thinking the same thing.
“He’s not coming,” Derek muttered.
Razul scanned the room, never looking directly at the door he watched so carefully. “He had better.” He caught his fingers tightening dangerously around the clay mug and loosened them, lest his tension show in a shower of clay fragments. “Or so help me. . . .”
The barmaid knew enough not to react when they handed over their half-full mugs for new ones.
Tae sauntered over, fresh from an Outs victory. Her light step contrasted with the wariness in her silver eyes. “We either need to get real raucous real quick or make our way out. We’ve attracted enough notice as it is, just sitting here.”