| abstract | - They say all pubs and taverns have a ghost about them. A friendly spirit of some bygone time, or perhaps the good cheer mixed with the sweat of the patrons over the years sunk into the wood of the stools, tables and chairs. It all broils into a steam that permeates the rafters, gives the very bones of the thing a character all it's own, a certain smell and quality of light that gives the place it's own... personality. The Aged Saber was no different. It had seen better times, and worse times. It had seen many patrons and more than a few owners in it's time in Anduin's City. It had gone by many names and served many spirits and vintages. Right now it was serving one patron a draft ale, dark and rich, a touch of golden cheer. This patron was a woman, and she was searching for something right at the moment. Sadly it wasn't ale, but spirits and the potential for conversation might make for a good start. Dark green eyes reflected the candle flames of each of the tables and from the chandelier as she scanned the room. She'd spoken to a few of the tavern-goers already, listened to a few tales, some true, some not. She'd just gotten done meeting with the usual idea men. The ones who slink about the periphery of society, who listen at the eaves of the city and hear much... even if they don't always comprehend what they hear. She had learned to read between the lines of all talk, however, to glean valuable information from what would otherwise be a tide of chatter and senseless gibbering. It was a cheerful night at the Saber this eve. And while many were having fun, it was not destined to be her fare for this evening. In fact, so far most of the leads she'd gotten were dead ends, or worse, false starts to begin with. She wasn't in the mood for chasing geese though, so for now, perhaps just to sit and drink would be advisable. She closed her searching eyes for a moment, and weary from the pursuit, barely heard the barmaid set something on her table. She hesitated in opening her eyes, expecting it to be her evening's tab- which had grown fairly substantially due to the need to grease some of her contacts' lips on more than one occasion. When she did finally dare to look at what had been set before her, she was somewhat shocked to find that it was not her tab... at all... But staring at an actual bouquet of flowers in a place like this? That was just downright odd. And at first it was just that, a bouquet of flowers laid on her table quite randomly. She looked around for a moment, trying to ascertain if some old sod was winking at her suggestively from some obscure corner of the room, but no such seedy types obliged her search. It was simply a Bouquet in a Bar. A bouquet in a bar. A deliberately arranged bouquet. A bouquet of peacebloom, kingsblood, dreamfoil... A bouquet with a bit of parchment attached to it. A parchment that had six words upon it in a particularly delicate hand: Facet had been absolutely right. This guy did have a language all his own, Kya stared at the parchment for a moment, and was tempted to ask the Barmaid how this had come to be on her table, but the gesture really said everything she needed to know.
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