Ashan 82nd, 719: Late Evening
The Devil's Advocate was always a hive of wretches and scholars. It was a place in which one could find the lower, and centermost points of society could be found. A festering ground in which allowed those of common standing and birth to congregate. This evening, however, was a peculiar one. The majority of the bar itself was occupied by students, as evidenced by their uniforms, having very little to no shame in their identity being on display. The men and women were young, no older than twenty one arcs of age, their washed out complexions at home with the typical Videnese look about them. They drank with the lowest that the Malachite Prism had to offer, going against Videnese morals to drink the swill on offer here. They were bound by similar crimes, overlooked by authorities due to how minor it truly was. Prohibition of liquor in these times was like refusing to give a goat grass. They'll go off and eat eventually, regardless.
The establishment was, of course, obviously a place of ill repute. All of the chairs appeared to be misshapen somehow, and all of the surfaces in the main room itself seemed to be covered in slash marks, from a long forgotten brawl, one after the other. One was greeted at the door, with a decree from the Rangers of Viden, declaring that the establishment was not suited for the handling of food, citing illness and negligence as the main cause of the ban itself; the only thing that this place was allowed to sell, would be things that were bought elsewhere, or salted and jerked meats. Everyone knew that the ale was watered down. It was obviously swill, only suited to be quaffed and endured, rather than something to be enjoyed. But it is this balance of alcohol, freely flowing, that allowed such different backgrounds to put aside their differences for a single sitting, for the sake of a brief escape from the harsh life of city living within Viden's walls.
Sybil was sat away from the bar. A chilly section of the tavern, that was far away from the hearth, which only just met the standards for public building safety. A place that few in their right minds would go to, due to the ever present chill that coated everything within reach. But it was a place that welcomed those who were not fit to be among the crowd, those who stood out, to simply blend into the background, watching the goings on. Sybil was drinking from a mug, filled to the brim with cheap, watered down dark ale. Slow sips were taken from the drink itself, idly. The student's attention more upon those entering the tavern itself. Leaning back against the wrought iron chair, the student simply finds comfort from the position, rolling at the shoulders, letting out a soft sigh. Free chairs flanked around the table in which the student sat, making Sybil stick out like a sore thumb.