by Ze Blitzkrieg » Wed Dec 14, 2022 12:03 am
"Could get you some Honningbrew. It's made locally, and the folks in Whiterun are quite protective of it. Apparently, there's quite a rivalry between it and another brew from over in Riften. I'll get you a couple bottles."
The serving girl heads off once more, presumably to fetch your drinks. Left to your own devices, you get a good look of the men. Even from your place from across the tavern, the men seem to be in high spirits, chatting among themselves and sharing a drink. There's some bread broken between them, indicating they had eaten together. One of them sports a mane of dirty blond hair, that falls back below his shoulders in a thick, heavy braid. A similar braid can be found dangling from his chin, his beard carefully intertwined with itself and held in place by decorative copper rings. He seems to be the wealthiest of the number, his fingers glimmering with gemstones and gold as he emotes to his fellows in the midst of a story. There's another blond among their number, a younger looking man, who bears a striking resemblance to the one storytelling. While he lacks his relative's beard, he shares the same long locks, only kept in check by a pair of smaller braids on either side of his face, carefully coiled so as to keep it from spilling into his face.
The final Nord, the one in armor and furs, is man with short cropped brunette hair and a short, well-trimmed beard seems the more reserved of them. He seems the oldest of the bunch, and nurses his drink as he watches his companions jape back and forth, giving an occasional grin their way to show he was still invested.
"Is... Is who? What? I wasn't-"
Ranabi doesn't have much of a say in the matter of you tug her along towards the back of the common room, and towards object of her presumed desires. True to his nature, the dark haired one is the first to notice your approach, and is quick onto his feet despite his languid drinking.
"Hold there, Khajiit. State your-"
The bearded blond raises his hand, as if to quell his guardian's worries.
"Now, Rorik, there's no need to be so hasty. Do these look the type of women to do us harm?" He reasons, giving a gracious smile towards both you and Ranabi, "In fact, I believe I've had dealings with at least one of them before. How have you been...?"
"Ranabi, of Bruma. It's good to see you again, Yngvar." You can practically feel the heat radiating off Ranabi's cheeks as she hastily introduces herself with a small bow of her head, "I hope you, and your esteemed father, are both well."
"I'm happy to say we are. Your discretion was of great value in dealing the matters of his health," It seemed as though Ranabi's dealings with the Battle-Born were, if nothing else, a little more important than she had initially let on. The man, Yngvar, as you have come to know, continues on without missing a beat, "You have our thanks for that. Perhaps we'll have the opportunity to properly show those thanks. But, before that, introduce me to your friend. A member of your caravan?"
"Think I'd remember her, if she were," The younger Nord chimes in appreciatively, making no secret of his eyes roaming over you. Ranabi, whether she notices that or not, frets for a moment, before introducing you.
"This is Kharaya. She is... the leader of a joint venture we're undertaking. She was eager to see the festivities, so I'm showing her around Whiterun." She explains, eyes darting nervously between you and Yngvar as she does. The patriarch's son takes it all in stride, though, treating you with all the courtesy you had come to expect from the wealthy patricians of Cyrodiil when they met with Yahzin.
"I see. Well, welcome to Whiterun, Kharaya. I hope you enjoy yours stay, for however long it may last. Perhaps you'd like to join us for a drink? It's been a while since I've seen Khajiit in the city. Just mind Sven; the only thing he's weaker to than a pretty face is a horn of mead."