Excuses amounted in such plenty that they were becoming more tedious to track than simply doing what needed to be done. Eustace looked at his notes, a small bound booklet of scribbled thoughts and ideas. He had so many things he could write about from this collection of inspired moments but he was stalled once again in one of his moods of personal diversion. He closed his eyes and pressed the knuckle of his index finger between his brows rather hard until it ached. This gave him a point of focus and quickly gathered his thoughts which narrowed from the tangled whirlwind of perceptions and memories. It narrowed into a unified point under the pressure upon his forehead. He relaxed, letting his tired shoulders rise and fall with his intentionally slowed breathing.
If he couldn’t write, he needed to not be sitting about dwelling on the problem. He clung to the thought and pondered where to take it. He needed away from his routine, out of his rut. The Crowded Shelf was an excellent location to write, but it was also a comfortable place to lull about and linger while doing nothing. He could sit here at the front door and let his day pass by quite easily. When Eustace brought his restless writer’s block with him, the location only aided his distracted mind at preventing his work. As it was, he needed to go and refresh his mind and clear it of the chaos.
A motion caused Eustace to relent his pensive exercise. Wish passed by him from behind, giving him a quick smile and a wave before exiting the building. The girl had become busy with some hobby, studying over her books and making extensive notes. She came and went with rather inconsistent frequency and times. Eustance wondered….no he needed to stop chasing stray thoughts and return to his own problem. The door closed as his demeanor darkened again in his brooding, knuckle returning to anchor his mind behind the minute pain.
The old half-elf rolled his head in a teetering motion around the pressing knuckle, I need to accomplish something for my own good, he thought.
He looked across the tavern which had become a second home to him. He spent much of his time here. While this place was comforting, he needed his time here to still be beneficial. Perhaps it was time he went and faced some unresolved grievances. Eustace’s free hand subconsciously fiddled with the plain ring on his finger. He focused his eyes past the hand at his face, to watch the trinket spin upon the other hand. It was carved wood of simple quality but thoughtful design. His niece had crafted it for him as a gift the last time he had visited his father’s family. He looked at worn wood, time having added small marks over the years. His wife’s family had been from the same town, and he hadn’t been back since…since then.
Eustace’s knuckle slipped and his head jolted forward. He arrested the motion before he struck anything. He quickly looked around in embarrassment having just flailed about for no apparent reason while sitting. No one seemed to have taken notice. Eustace sighed. This is ridiculous, he thought. He was dwelling on past feelings again and letting excuses come to the ready response. With a sudden push of spite at his self-induced stalling, Eustace abruptly stood up in defiance.
“Taking leave for a while then?” The Barkeeper asked.
Eustace nearly collapsed from the startlement at the abrupt dialogue but contained his reaction to a sharp inhale and steady motion to lean away from the sudden and silent appearance of the tavern owner. He twisted to face the small human with as positive of expression as he could muster as his heart raced.
“Yes, yes, I will be away for some time. Another person may need to be appointed to greet for a while. I hope you understand,” Eustace said.
The Barkeeper nodded, “Very well, I’ll see to it. I manage well enough in your absence, but shall find a temporary in your stead should I be overwhelmed with business as it is.”
With that, The Barkeeper vanished away. Eustace nodded to himself, and giving no room for further excuse, exited out to the alley to head home to pack for his journey. A journey that had been delayed for far too long.