New beginings

[Laron]

(Completely open RP because I am bored and want to RP)

Red Ridge

Laron walks to the small stone grave on the top of the hill. Reaching in his pack, he takes out a small paint brush and a red rose. Cleaning off the dirt from the stone, he can see the name “Brianne.” Placing the rose at the grave, he sits down and touches the stone. Cold and unchanged from the position it was placed, he looks out at where the house he had lived in on the lake now sits with children running about. “It probably serves them as well as it did us.” Smiling he says “Happy Birthday my Love. I came to clean your resting site and to make sure you are at peace. I know you and my sister never got along, but Amadare is growing up very fast, they finally let her enter the school, and she is a full fledged Druid now. The real reason I came to talk with you, was to let you know I met someone who is special to me. Not that I have ever needed permission, but I figured you should know.” Moving to a kneeling position he runs his fingers over the weathered stone. “If Elune see it fit, I will be back next year. Stay at peace and know I love you.”

Standing he walks down the hill towards the Inn.

[Laron]

Walking into the Inn Laron feels at peace with himself, yet doesn’t really want to mingle with people. The smells of a tavern are familiar to him. Sweaty Humans and alcohol mixed with the smell of pork ribs being roasted in the kitchen. These smells have become home for this wayward Night Elf. Wading through the crowd of Humans, Laron makes sure to not be too greedy with his nimble fingers, and only lifts a few pouches. In this croud it would be easy to take them all, but that would require more finesse and lots of socializing. Laron was really not in the mood for that type of evening. By the time he reaches the bar, he decides that the ribs smell way to good to pass up. “What can I get ya, Elf?” The bar tender shouts over the group of people singing, and the rest of the crowd talking at a heightened level. “I will have an order of Ribs and I will take a bottle of Dwarven Stout for now.” He says as he sets down the thirty silver pieces and takes the bottle as it is set on the bar. Immersing back into the crowd, he makes his way to an open table, and sits facing the door. An old habbit that has never done him wrong.