Arthur pressed his back into the wall behind him and gazed out over the crowd. Of all the town events he had been to, this reminded him the most of home. They’d held great feasts like this one, beer flowing from taps, cups filled with mead, the air alive with joy and people being just that. He’d always wondered what it would be like to dissolve into the crowd like everyone else. He’d always wished he could. Now it seemed his wish was granted and he wasn’t so sure he liked it after all. It did leave a lonely kind of feeling in your chest and coupled with the fact that he would not have even been there at all had he not been forced by Astrid, his face looked a little sour to say the least.
His hand strayed down and he pulled a bottle from the side, taking a long sip in an attempt to let the ale blur the bitterness he was feeling at very least. For a moment, he locked eyes awkwardly with the person beside him as they watched his lips leave the rim and a sudden dread filled his heart. He glanced down to the glass and then to the person in question and back again. “... This is not my drink, is it?”














