"The Winged... what's this, then?"
"Something for you to do before you magically vanish back overseas." Calernyn glanced over at his brother, watching the older man tilt his head at the flyer. "I know we can't convince you to stay and finally put some roots down. But you can at least slow down a bit and take it easy for another day or two, right? No grand Garlean scheme or Voidsent apocalypse to foil this week, surely."
Schezar rubbed his chin. "A flyin' tavern. Almost sounds like a Syndicate thing." The Highlander glanced back at his younger brother, the picture of domestic fatherhood as they relaxed at Vina's bedside. His niece was tucked in, fast asleep and hugging on tightly to the miqo'te doll he'd gifted her for Starlight. They continued to chat in mild, hushed tones. "You're right, Rabanastre can wait. And if they have a decent lager on board, I'll send word. Maybe even bring th' kids next time. Thanks, little man."
"Any time, big brother."
* * * * *
That was several days ago. Now, after the traditional bottle smash across the ship's bow, the inaugural crowd chattered excitedly amongst themselves as they filed aboard.
Schezar took his time more slowly, glancing around and taking note of the tavern's older, weathered design. The aged cargo vessel was certainly reminiscent of a stubborn, irascible boar, but she also looked sturdy enough to fly. He was vaguely reminded of his Redbill friends, soaring freely through the skies, malms away in the Sea of Clouds.
With a chuckle, he accepted a small shot glass of the celebratory wine being poured out by one of the wait staff, though he fully intended to follow it up with a proper pint as soon as he reached the bar. "Cheers. Any idea where today's route is takin' us?"
"Something for you to do before you magically vanish back overseas." Calernyn glanced over at his brother, watching the older man tilt his head at the flyer. "I know we can't convince you to stay and finally put some roots down. But you can at least slow down a bit and take it easy for another day or two, right? No grand Garlean scheme or Voidsent apocalypse to foil this week, surely."
Schezar rubbed his chin. "A flyin' tavern. Almost sounds like a Syndicate thing." The Highlander glanced back at his younger brother, the picture of domestic fatherhood as they relaxed at Vina's bedside. His niece was tucked in, fast asleep and hugging on tightly to the miqo'te doll he'd gifted her for Starlight. They continued to chat in mild, hushed tones. "You're right, Rabanastre can wait. And if they have a decent lager on board, I'll send word. Maybe even bring th' kids next time. Thanks, little man."
"Any time, big brother."
* * * * *
That was several days ago. Now, after the traditional bottle smash across the ship's bow, the inaugural crowd chattered excitedly amongst themselves as they filed aboard.
Schezar took his time more slowly, glancing around and taking note of the tavern's older, weathered design. The aged cargo vessel was certainly reminiscent of a stubborn, irascible boar, but she also looked sturdy enough to fly. He was vaguely reminded of his Redbill friends, soaring freely through the skies, malms away in the Sea of Clouds.
With a chuckle, he accepted a small shot glass of the celebratory wine being poured out by one of the wait staff, though he fully intended to follow it up with a proper pint as soon as he reached the bar. "Cheers. Any idea where today's route is takin' us?"
![[Image: Pi2KNMr.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/Pi2KNMr.jpg)
