Don Carlos Tequila

A few shakes of his shoulder woke Jaen from his daze, his hand lifting to his eyes as he tried to rub away the drunken haze that blurred his sight. Looking around him, a small wave of surprise washed over him as he found himself still in the Wayfarer’s, slumped over the bar counter and being woken by one of the many less desirable women that stalked the place nightly.

“You alright there, cutie?” The Sin’dorei woman gave him a coy smile as she stood straight, brushing a length of blond curls from her face as she attempted to draw him in.

“Uh, yeah…Yeah, I think so…” He murmured, slowly standing up from the stool and giving her a dismissive wave before clambering out of the bar. For all appearances, one would have thought that he had just barely escaped death’s door from his sickly complexion in the morning sun and the dark circles that hung beneath his eyes.

The sun…It shone far too bright, he thought decidedly as he made his way past the city gates and began the long trek back to the cabin. For a long, endless minute he walked thoughtlessly before coming to a stop. Elly. What was he to tell her? What was he meant to tell her? Did he have to?

The night had certainly been unlike any he had ever had before…In fact, before last night he had never so much as thought to drink anything stronger than honey mead; or ever expected to witness another elf begging for a kiss from a goblin; or even considered the fact that he had hardly seen or done anything.

In the last five hours of his life, he had done far more than he had done in the last two decades. He had chased a man down, nearly caused a fight, stolen, enjoyed the fruits of the former and gotten into a singing contest. He had smoked a cigar, and gotten so drunk that he had managed to sleep past dawn for the first time in his entire existence.

His mind carried on for sometime, until he had finally reached his and Elly’s new home. The home he had built for them. The thought caused him to swell with pride, his eyes lazily moving across the room as he made his way to the bedroom door. Reaching it, he fumbled with the handle before swinging it open and moving to collapse onto the bed.

Laying there, he didn’t so much as bother to remove the heavy plate armor that adorned his body, only doing so much as to remove his shield. Rolling over onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling.

Up until this moment, he had been content with the skills he had been born with. He had been happy to till the ground and plant herbs, the ability to carve and build and how to easily change the shoes on a horse. Now, the words of Jani began to race through his mind, words of how he was meant to be a great man…and Elly’s statement of fearing of him becoming that.

Was he meant to be like his father? He didn’t feel like it, hell, until Utani had spoken of him he hadn’t even wanted Xynrael’s approval. But now, he desperately wanted it. He wanted to be the warrior the Vanguard kept urging him to be.

He wanted to be the man who could travel the world with the love of his life, and not put them both at risk.

He wanted to be the man who provoked respect, not laughter or pity.

He wanted to be the man Elly deserved.

He wanted to not be afraid of being that person…

But it would wait until tomorrow, Jaen decided, his eyelids growing heavy as he drifted off to sleep.