Patricia
Upon the chill of early winter, when the sky was blue as sapphire and white stars opened in the East, but the West was still golden and the air was cool and fragrant.

 A woman with hair dark as coal and a party of livestock trailing behind her steed where a rope connected them. She came glimmering in the evening, with stars on her brow and a sweet fragrance about her. She was quiet in her travels, the only sound escaping from her caravan being the jingle of the cow's bell.

The jolly laughter from a nearby tavern attracted her attention, bringing her to peer over in exhaustion, the need for a drink burning at her throat. One drink couldn't hurt, right?

With those thoughts she pulled on the reins of her steed, beckoning it towards the tavern. The thud of the horse's hooves sounded in her ears pressing the headache further. 

Once she had neared the tavern she pulled the horse to a stop, climbing down from its massive height to attach it to the post. She didn't spare the livestock a single glance before pushing on the wooden door to the tavern. 

She was welcomed by the warmth from the fireplace and the strong smell of the life inside. The more sober eyes of the different races found themselves on her while the drunken heaps continued to laugh with each other.

She nodded her head politely to the eyes and made her way to the bar where she passed a small smile. 

"Wine, please." She spoke gently, her voice cracking from the lack of use. She sat down at the stool, looking down at the wooden surface of the bar as she waited for the drink to be served.
Paula
Indeed, the few clearheaded patrons of the packed tavern directed their gaze towards the new arrival, the swinging of the door catching their attention while few tipsy men were either blacked out or chortling their hearts out. The piercing stares soon dissipated as the young woman advanced towards the counter. 

A middle-aged tender simply nodded slowly, crouching down to grasp a flagon of cast iron. Reaching out for a rag, he rubbed the container clean before heeding the farmer's request. 

"That be eight copper.

His raspy voice sent towards her way, followed with a cough and another covered by the sleeves of his white tunic. In his right hand gripped the vessel filled with the deep violet liquid, a scent of grape emanating from its small pool. He set the flagon down in front of the curly-haired girl, its contents dancing left and right from his motion. 

**Grape Wine (Local alcohol; 2 imperial pints)**

During this, a slim hooded figure sat on a table across from Athelesia, their legs crossed together propped on the table while they leaned back on the chair. Their head tilted down, the light casting shadows to their face. Yet, they are specifically directed towards the young woman, watching. 

A flagon is set on their own table— two flagons, actually. A small tied pouch lying beside the two vessels, along with a bowl of table salt (looks like it, anyway).
Patricia
The sound of her silver coin rubbing against the wooden surface of the bar echoed faintly as she pushed it forward towards him. She was silent, only passing a short nod as he took the silver coin into his grasp.

She looked at the wine, checking it over before lifting the pint to her lips, taking a small gulp. She had never favored the taste of wine but after traveling for so long it was just what she needed to relax. Her shoulders slumped from their tense position as she set the mug down.

She looked up, dark eyes meeting the hooded stranger who seemed to be staring at her. It wasn't irregular for a local to stare her down. Hell, she'd probably be doing the same if it was the other way around. 

She lifted her pint sending a smile towards the hooded person as if to clear the unease she got from them. It was awkward, to say the least, but again it wasn't irregular.

Seconds passed by slowly making Athelesia feel as if the stranger had been staring at her for quite a while but it had not been over a minute. She decided to make her way to the stranger, perhaps to ask for directions. It was the only thing she could think of to ease the stare.

"Hello, may I sit?" She asked the cloaked figure with a closed-lip smile.
Paula
No response came from them as the young farmer girl waved the flagon towards their direction. An unfriendly reply, though who would be friendly to a foreigner?

The cloaked figure, however, did not respond back to Athelesia. Instead, she could hear faint breath exhaling out of their mouth, a light snore coming from the black mass underneath the hood. 

Indeed, they were asleep. Most likely supported by the alcohol they drank. They let out out a small cough, which stirred their arms from its crossed positions, sliding down their body before hanging out at their sides. 

Their small pouch is still on the table, now beside Athelesia. By choice, she could easily sweep it off the table and keep it themselves.