The pub was crowded at night, people were ordering drinks and turning into a completely different person by the end of this. Ladies dressed in frilly skirts and blouse aimlessly wandered around with a cocoa-colored tray that they held in balance. On top of those trays were mugs of foamy, bubbly drinks. It seemed these were the ones getting the men intoxicated. The atmosphere of this place was noisy, the exact opposite of the bar I went into last town. It was livelier, so I wouldn't complain as much. I just didn't find the excitement that everybody was sharing.
One lady noticed a figure sitting by the corner of the pub. He—or rather I—hadn't had a table, resting by a place that she deemed dirty. Walking over to him, she noted the first thing that caught her fancy. It was his brilliant and mysterious lavender eyes. Never had she seen such colors on a human being nor had she seen a person who would enjoy sitting on the ground in this pub. The next thing was his warm golden hair and the small, almost antique, round glasses resting upon the bridge of his nose. Apart from all the men around her partying 'till the end of night, this person was quietly reading a book. He had on a sleeveless beige leather jerkin, a white wool shirt on the inside. A cotton pants of the lighter color has the leather jerkin complimented the style along with skin boots rising up to his knees. It was wrapped many times from ankle to knee with a small rope to keep it from falling.
Snapping out of her daze, she realized she was still at work and hurriedly came closer to me. She gave me the same smile as the other lady who greeted me when I first arrived. Then she asked why I didn't take a seat. I told her that I was more comfortable on the ground. She pouted and replied, "Well, you won't get a good sight for the show if you just sit there. Come on!"
Proceeding to grab my wrist, she yanked me up from the dusty floor and pushed me to another corner, except I was to sit on a chair this time. I sighed, giving her a look and noting that she was waiting for me to order something. I glanced around another time, seeing that the bubbly, gilt drink was what everybody was getting, I said, "I'll take what those people are getting."
"One honey ale, coming up."
I nodded, taking in a word that I just learned.
That girl seemed to understand me as to why she gave me a table that wasn't particularly near anybody going crazy. And though this was a bit far apart, this place had nice view of the stage. She said something about a show. Was this why everybody was here?
Touching the leather-bound book, I read the title, "About The Nether." It described a man's journey into the Nether and the horrors of the world. It was fascinating to me and I assumed for most people because they had never been to the Nether. It certainly sounded a lot better than my homeland. Lava waterfalls flowing down, weird blocks that slowed down your movements, ghast firing fireballs at you, and many other hellish things. The End, on the other hand, was a dark and boring place to be. No humans ever visited that world, mostly because they probably never heard of it. In The End, it was ruled by an Ender Dragon and though my fellow comrades had no problem with it, I did. It was the reason why I left The End for the Overworld. I had no reason to stay with a tyrant.
Placing the book down, I thought about the Nether. If I was to stay there, it probably would've gotten dull also. It was only one color. The Overworld was colorful and filled with different cultures. This was my favorite world.
The same girl came back with a mug in her hand, placing it down on my table. I thanked her as she left. I remembered those people having a name for their position. It was a waiter or something. Anyways, I gazed at the drink. People were drinking these, but I never once tried this. Draping my fingers around the handle, I pulled it up to my mouth and took a sip. Immediately I slammed it on the table with a frown on my face. It was bitter—a little bit sweet—how could people drink this? While complaining, I had another.
By the time that I finished, the room darkened and a single light pointed at the stage. Where that light was coming from, I had no idea. There was a woman standing upon the platform, she was holding what appeared to be a guitar, but thinner. I became curious about this instrument she was holding. After a second, she started playing and felt like all the shouting and yelling had died down. The atmosphere felt mellow. Everybody became quiet, a sign of respect. I watched her performance with my utmost attention, gawking at every single movement she made to play her song.
This was a nice city. I wished that it stayed this way.