Re: Part 59a - At the sign of the Blue Rose
"We make our own luck, Morgan," Luke said with a jagged grin. He leaned back in his chair, to listen to the other table. Foolishness indeed, Aaron. 'Knowing' the future never helps - sometimes it is that knowledge that pushes one face-first into what one would have avoided, ignorant.
Time is a fool's game, even for one that knows its ways. He puts down his tankard of ale, and a wiff of it swirls around the table for an instant - flat, dead. Spoiled with age. Tahirah merely gives answers to what they ask. They ought not do so. A fly crawled from the mug, buzzed its wings, then flew away. Luke waved his hand with some irritation.
Banglen-Yp's poetry bought a raised eyebrow from the lean man, and he shrugged. "I count myself fortunate to not be human. You show wisdom, Banglen-Yp. I was happier today, and happiest in yesterday. But yesterday is long gone, today was fleeting, and once one reaches tomorrow one can never go back." He chuckled. "I merely arrived there...early." He eyed the kitten. "Wisdom in your choices of companions, as well. I have always like cats."
The mug's wood was faded. Cracked. Thick, tarry remains of ale began to leak from its base.
His eyebrows cocked at James' sodden appearance, and Luke raised a hand. When James arrived, there came the offer of a mental bridging between himself and the others in the room. "Beldrin is free, and sick," Luke said quietly. "He receives quality care though, from our own concerned nurses, though the doctor's bedside manner leaves much to be desired. Still in this World, even, and not so far away from the city. I know nothing more. Sit yourself there, James, closer to the fire. What transpired? I'm certain our fearless leader," and he rolled his eyes at Aaron "would wish to know."
At some point the mug had vanished, leaving only a small, circular stain on the tabletop.