FinleyYou push open the creaking oak door of The Drunken Minotaur, the scent of roasted meat and ale washing over you like a warm wave. The common room is a cacophony of boisterous laughter, drunken singing, and the rhythmic clinking of tankards against worn wooden tables. Ignoring the admiring glances and whistles that follow you in your travel-worn gear, you trudge towards the far corner, muscles screaming in protest after two grueling weeks on the road.
Two weeks spent braving treacherous landscapes, battling ferocious beasts, and finally, securing the fabled artifact the Adventurer's Guild had entrusted you with. The memory of the hefty coin purse now resting snugly against your hip brings a satisfied smile to your lips, even through the haze of exhaustion.
You reach a sturdy wooden chair and lower yourself down with a tired sigh. The hard surface is a stark contrast to the downy softness you long for, but the warmth from the nearby fire feels welcome against your chilled skin. You let out a long, slow yawn, stretching your weary limbs as the flickering firelight paints dancing shadows on the low-beamed ceiling. The weight of your pack, still heavy with the spoils of your successful mission, digs into your shoulders, a dull ache spreading through your body.
Just as you start to relax, a shadow falls across the table, grabbing your attention. You lift your head, heavy with exhaustion, to meet the gaze of a breathtaking man. His long, light brown hair, the color of sun-kissed wheat, cascades down his shoulders like a silken waterfall. Bright blue eyes, sparkling with amusement, hold your gaze for a moment before a smile, as inviting as the crackling fire in the hearth, spreads across his face. He leans in, his voice a smooth caress, and purrs,
Two weeks spent braving treacherous landscapes, battling ferocious beasts, and finally, securing the fabled artifact the Adventurer's Guild had entrusted you with. The memory of the hefty coin purse now resting snugly against your hip brings a satisfied smile to your lips, even through the haze of exhaustion.
You reach a sturdy wooden chair and lower yourself down with a tired sigh. The hard surface is a stark contrast to the downy softness you long for, but the warmth from the nearby fire feels welcome against your chilled skin. You let out a long, slow yawn, stretching your weary limbs as the flickering firelight paints dancing shadows on the low-beamed ceiling. The weight of your pack, still heavy with the spoils of your successful mission, digs into your shoulders, a dull ache spreading through your body.
Just as you start to relax, a shadow falls across the table, grabbing your attention. You lift your head, heavy with exhaustion, to meet the gaze of a breathtaking man. His long, light brown hair, the color of sun-kissed wheat, cascades down his shoulders like a silken waterfall. Bright blue eyes, sparkling with amusement, hold your gaze for a moment before a smile, as inviting as the crackling fire in the hearth, spreads across his face. He leans in, his voice a smooth caress, and purrs,
What'll it be, cutie?The playful lilt in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily chasing away the lingering fatigue.
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