Trog's Tavern CLIII

[Hattish Thing]

Once the woman appears, the figure continues to stare directly into her own eyes, an almost vacant and confused expression upon his face. A moment passes before the young man slowly drags his eyes elsewhere, mouth slightly agape. Carefully, the man places a hand upon the counter, mimicking the actions of others across the room, attempting to form some sort of smile.

Eventually, his lips align, spreading slightly to expose bright white teeth, tongue raised slightly for some unknown reason.

--

The smile itself, while mechanically accurate, likely feels slightly off to the barkeep, for the man's heterochromatic eyes hardly seem focused, entirely unemotional as they stare off past her shoulder. A painful moment passes wherein the unusual figure appears to attempt to speak, opening and closing his mouth slightly, strands of spit dribbling here and there from within his mouth.

Eventually, a whispered sentence is uttered forth by the man, his voice hoarse and strange, the words pronounced quite terribly.

"Like stars 'yond blacken'd root, I ha'st found myself adrift. This place, it is not as seems. Wither hath I found myself?"

"Surfeit as I am of this confusion, I implore thee, provide the illumination I seek."