Tavern In Redcliffe Village

Ending up in Redcliffe wasn't a coincidence, but making his way into the tavern certainly was. The inn was nearby, of course, but it was full of travelers and those making their way to Haven, so Maraas was forced into the tavern to see if they had any spare rooms for the night. If not, his last hope would be the Chantry, and Maraas really did not want to spend the night being sneered at by clergymen. Just in case the night couldn't get any worse, the skies opened up and it began to rain in a harsh way Maraas learned was unique to Fereldan. Honestly, there was a reason why Fereldans gained fame in mud, and it had everything to do with weather patterns. Fereldan rained far more than any other country Maraas traveled to.

Unfortunatley, as Maraas had grown used to, being a giant 'Qunari' never went unnoticed. As soon as he entered the bar and pulled his hood down, Maraas could almost literally feel everyone's gaze turn towards him. Instead of reacting, however, he casually strode up to the bar and sat down. The humans began to converse quietly, whispering about how weird it was to see a Qunari, and he could still feel their gazes on his back even as the humans returned to what they were doing before he appeared. When the barmaid came, she was obviously a little intimidated and nervous. Maraas ordered a pint of typical Fereldan ale, and he felt a spark of relief when she looked a little less concerned. He had absolutely no intention of drinking it all, but he wanted to get on the tavern's good side before he requested board.

Maraas thanked the barmaid when she handed him his drink, and he took a few tentative sips. In his honest opinion, every stereotype about Fereldan's ale tasting like piss was accurate. It definitely didn't taste good, but it was still a drink, and it was definitely alcoholic. Maraas was about to speak up and ask the bartender about board for the night, when he heard a commotion start up over near the fireplace. It seemed the elf that sat near him somehow managed to trip and lose his drink, and it definitely managed to turn some heads.

What it didn't do, however, was compel anyone to help the elf up. Maraas frowned at the humans as they went on acting like nothing happened, suddenly remembering just how badly elves were treated in Fereldan. Sure, they weren't exactly treated well anywhere else, but sometimes Fereldans could be harsh in unexpected ways. Maraas stood up and made his way over to the fireplace. As he walked, humans naturally got out of his way, and he grabbed a dish towel off a table as he passed.

When he stopped in front of the elf, the area immediately around him cleared up, giving the both of them some space. Maraas wished that it wasn't mostly because they were afraid of being near him, but at the same time, he appreciated not having to barrel through the crowd. He reached his hand out to the elf to help him up, bending at the waist to do so. With the other hand, he quietly offered the towel. Despite his quietness, he easily made eye contact, and he attempted to keep his face from being too intimidating.

Maraas watched the elf dab at his incredibly furry collar, and he nodded. "I am good at... making space," he uttered, the words sounding awkward as he spoke them, almost as if he couldn't get used to how they formed in his mouth. Maraas clenched his jaw and swallowed, remembering how poor his common could be. He felt the warmth of the fire reach his neck, and he involuntarily shivered, having not noticed just how damp and cold he was prior. He took a seat by the fireplace, leaving enough room for the stranger.

The humans around slowly went back to what they were doing, although they shifted their seats around to give the Qunari a wide enough berth. The barmaid wandered over and cautiously handed him his drink, which he accepted with a grateful nod. When she left, he looked to the elf, and then back at his drink. "I am Maraas," he blurted. "Would you like another drink?"

Usually he did not try to make small talk with strangers, but this elf seemed alright enough, and he definitely wasn't a human actively trying to avoid him. Board for the night was still a priority, but a little company by a fire never hurt anyone. Proving he wasn't there to cause problems could also help him get a room for the night. Either way, there didn't seem to be a downside to making small talk.

Maraas quietly signaled to the barmaid for another drink, and then he turned back to look at Emil. He stared for a moment, and then he nodded. He didn't smile, but his posture relaxed a bit as he stared into his drink. "A pleasure to meet," he said quietly. He remained quiet for a bit, unsure of what to say. Sure enough, the barmaid came around with another drink, and Maraas fished out the coin to pay his tab. The maid smiled, pocketed the coin, and left.

Maraas straightened his posture again and held the flagon out to Emil. "Here." He fell quiet again for a bit, content to enjoy the heat of the fire soaking through his clothes. Then, he spoke up. "Are you from Fereldan?" Maraas asked, the words once again sounding a bit stiff and a little rehearsed. He took a long sip of his own drink as he waited for Emil's answer. The elf certainly didn't seem to be from Fereldan, but then again, things were rarely as they seemed. Even if he wasn't, surely it would break the ice a little further.

"Rivain," Maraas repeated in acknowledgement. The elf's laugh once again allowed him to relax his posture, and he felt a smile of his own twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Of course." He knew Rivain well, knowing that it was one of the few places outside of Par Vollen where the Qun did not necessarily receive reactions. There was even a Qunari settlement within the country, and Maraas had been there a few times before his re-education. Trade was pretty good there, and it had easy access to Antiva, where trade was even better.

Maraas didn't offer up where he came from, since it seemed fairly obvious. Had he been Vashoth, common would come more easily to him. His accent was far from any of the human countries', so most people learned pretty early on that he was a deserter of the Qun. "Fereldan certianly is... harsh." Maraas struggled to find a word that accurately described the whole country, but harsh certainly did it. The people, the weather, the animals and monsters... everything was ready to tear you apart at a moment's notice. The country was far from gentle. He took a sip of his drink, silently adding the alcohol to the list of things about Fereldan that lacked finesse.

Maraas nodded at the mention of 'home'. Par Vollen was far from his home now, but every once in a while, he missed the days when it was. At the mention of Orlais, however, he frowned. Oh, he had certainly been there. Fortunately for him, he never had much to do with the court or the Game, but even passing through Val Royeaux had been a pain. Just as anywhere else he went, heads always turned and whispers always followed. In Orlais, though, the whispers weren't quite as quiet.

"It is beautiful," Maraas agreed, "but... gilded." A Fereldan countryman once said it was as if someone 'dipped a mabari's backside in gold and called it a lion'. Maraas figured that was pretty accurate. "Even in Fereldan it is hard to go unnoticed." He casually sipped his drink, and even though he began to speak more, his voice stayed pretty quiet. "Maybe I should stain my hair brown."

Maraas looked over at Emil with a small hint of surprise. He certainly knew there would be more to blending in with humans and elves than staining his hair, but darker hair would still be better than white, right? Even so, Emil's laughter only brought a gentle tint of embarrassment to his cheeks. He didn't miss the compliment at the end, either, and it only added to his blush. "Ah... ok. Thank you."

Something about Emil, this stranger he just met, didn't put him on edge like usual. He finished his drink, surprised that he actually managed to reach the bottom. The heat from the alcohol and the fire spread through his limbs, and he felt content, a small smile spreading across his lips.