Spending a couple of breaks in a tavern was, for some, a task as easy as spending six breaks asleep. For Zekuseeyros, however, the task seemed borne out of his ultimate suicide mission. The idea weighted on him, made him feel heavy and oppressed, and, should he dwell too much on it, he’d find a hidden rage wanting to claw its way out of his chest. His time in this world was very limited, with a very clear ending that was almost an arc away. Nobody would be able to understand this, nor the weight it carried. Knowing the date of your death, regardless of how far ahead of time, meant fate had conspired against you and placed a wall in your way. Everything you do, everything you’ve done and everything you will do all leads you to that wall, and there you will be smashed into ash and blown by the wind. It was no wonder then the aukari felt weak whenever he fell asleep, or had to drop his pants to empty himself, or when he had to eat. Those tasks, no matter how quickly performed, were constants. Only once he had dared calculate how much these tasks would take from his life, and once he saw the result, the Fire Within had roared its way out and engulfed him whole.
The solution was simple for such an alexithymic individual; keep busy. In the breaks following the meeting of the two goons, when their future employer had left, Zekuseeyros had gotten busy. First, and foremost, he updated his grimoire with all the happenings of this trial, leaving nothing behind regardless if the truth condemned his character. As usual, he’d make sure to include most of his opinions and the thoughts he remembered about Scalvoris, the tavern, his employer and even what he deemed would be his ‘coworker’. For being such a thorough man, he had forgotten the brigand’s name. Three letters to remember for someone else was too great a task for such a self-centered man. In the grimoire, Kev was called ‘him’, and in real life, he would be called ‘you’.
Once the grimoire was properly updated, the giant spent the rest of his time not socializing, but instead keeping quiet and watching, as stoic as a statue, the happenings of the tavern. It was a small place, obviously drawing a questionable crowd the later the day went on. The sight of women was common at first, for example, back when they met with their employer. Now there was only one woman in the place, and the size of her arms and the girth of her shoulders suggested she pressed steel beams for breakfast and that her tights could choke out a dragon. Defeating such a creature called for a hunting party. The men with their expensive garbs had gone and let in the working-class types, with torn, stained clothes and sweat acting as hair gel. Seeing a full set of teeth (and of fingers) was becoming a rarity.
His temporary companion having gone somewhere once Zekuseeyros proved to be no fun company, at last he’d raise and leave the tavern. He’d move, then, to the alley behind it, and found himself a corner by which to lean against the wall and wrap himself in his cloak. The cold could not mask the smell of urine reeking out of the stone, but the foul secrecy of the alley at least provided cover from the wind. At last, the aukari felt through his pouches and found his pipe and some dark tobacco. Once he was done,a couple of matches lit it up and allowed the man to, at the very least, get something out of the waiting. Idly smoking his pipe, a couple of heavy steps stomping through the snow alerted him back into attention.
It was the man from before, still as small and still as fat as before, albeit dramatically different in terms of clothing. A thick black cloak with a cowl aimed to conceal his features made him seem like some kind of fat ghost too fed with ectoplasm to float. He seemed nervous, perhaps even more than before, surely because he had stumbled upon Zekuseeyros rather than Kev. There, in the secrecy of the valley, no eyes would serve as witness if this giant decided to rob him - or worse. The fact Zekuseeyros still had the same attitude as a statue helped none ease the fat man’s soul. Eventually, a couple of paces away from the behemoth, he decided to advance no further, and an impatient whisper came forth.
“Where’s your friend?”
In the alley nobody can hear you scream.
