The Blue Burn

And So We Meet...

Wyatt

    The clamoring of dishes and glassware echo up the stairwell and into the hallway. Thin walls really don't help either. Tossing and turning on this God forsaken mattress of torture isn't going to get me any more shut eye. 

Clank! Clatter!

"Alright, alright. I hear ya down there Toots." I sigh and mutter while an image of that sassy little bar wench flashes in my mind. A smirk slides up my face as I remember how her cheeks took on a nice rosy shade after I gave her my go-to wink. It's my fail safe and hasn't let me down yet. A few pints of ale on the house last night and a personal tour around the place by little miss Toots.... Yeah, the wink. Does it every time. 

    I slip on my boots and then go to the sink to splash some water on my face to help wake me up. Drying off my face, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. 

"You're getting gray old man." scowling at myself and the gray that is peeking through my beard, and also at my temples of my hairline. Okay, so I know 30 isn't OLD , but the amount of gray I am showing already? It's enough to make me feel like I'm getting old. My eyes avert their attention towards my scar. A jagged line, moderately faint, but still noticeable. The line trails itself from a little bit above my eyebrow, all the way down to my cheekbone. Distant unwanted memories crashing into me and trying to pull me back to a time I don't care to think back on.

    Shaking myself and those thoughts, I give myself a wink in the mirror.

"But the Ladies sure do dig it." chuckling at myself, I make my way to the door. Slip on my shoulder holster and my jacket, then I secure my various knives and guns in their various spots. Making sure to have Dahlia in her designated safe-spot. 

"Yup. My best girl is safe and sound." clutching a hidden blade sheath inside the shoulder holster, I feel the comforting coolness of Dahlia's handle right where she is supposed to be. 

Okay, I can relax now. I'm not a sentimental guy or nothing, but honestly... I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to this Knife, to Dahlia.

    I know what you're thinking. Yes, I named my favorite and best knife. But really, it's more than just that. The steel is by far the best you can come by, especially these days. It's S30v Steel, top notch. Sturdy and holds a nice sharp edge. The handle, beautiful, perfect, a gift made by someone who was very dear to me... so long ago. I call her Dahlia, like the Black Dahlia. She's death, and I wield her as I see fit. Laying waste to those who get in my way and to those who deserve it. 

"That should do it." With that, I close the door behind me and make my way towards the tavern downstairs. 

    The sound of murmured chatter and glasses clanking fill the dingy room. It's not the best of places, but I've been almost everywhere and I can tell you that it's definitely not the worst either. 

"Hey there Toots!" pulling up a barstool to sit far enough away from anyone else, I holler at Rosy Cheeks.

"I told you last night Wyatt. It's Bonnie." giggling. Rosy Cheeks tries to be assertive, but I know better. There isn't a sliver of assertiveness in that little bar wench. 

    She sashays towards me with a nice cold ale.

 "You eatin' today handsome?"

"Um... That depends. You have anything else in that kitchen other than Spam?"

"Sorry sweetie, Spam's all we got. No shipments been comin' in for awhile now. You want some?"

"Hell No! You will watch me starve before I eat that s**t! I'll drink my breakfast today, thank you."

"Oh, honey. It's 'bout 6 o'clock in the evenin'. It's supper time doll."

"Alright Toots. Well then I'll drink my SUPPER tonight, thank you." waving her off, I can hear her mutter under her breath that her name isn't "Toots". I can't help it, it's funny getting under people's skin.

    Chuckling into my ale, I happen to gaze up. Along the wall on the other side of the bar, a long mirror stretches across in front of me. Forcing me to look at myself or allowing me to watch those around me. Casting my sights on a few shady fellas sitting at a table in the back corner, I notice one of them is wearing a ring on his left hand ring finger. From here it's hard to make out, but I'd be willing to bet a full round that the ring has a crest on it. His crest, The Hunter. 

    I begin to center myself and focus in on these men and their conversation. I make note of all of their faces and commit them to memory. In the reflection of the mirror, I begin to notice the all too familiar bright blue glow my eyes start to take on. I reach for my sunglasses, and begin to put them on before the blue glow starts to burn too bright. But something breaks my focus. Better yet, some ONE. 

     It's as though I could sense her before I even saw her. She walks into the tavern, but she is still standing at the doors. Like she is assessing the place first. I can't quite explain what is going on as I sit here and watch her standing there. As she was stands there in the doorway, it's like she can feel it too. She seems like she is trying to figure out who exactly this is coming from. 

    As soon as our eyes met, it's like we both know. This strange feeling, whatever it is. It is coming from one another, or it's some strange force that is drawing us towards each other. This is crazy, but all I know right now is....

I need her.