the reaper's kneeling at your field.x

[JOKER.]

A NAME TO LAST * THE 15 MINUTE FLAME OF FAME ❚ WORDS 396 ❚ TAGS anyone! you can be an old acquaintance or just be a total stranger, i'm up for anything ❚ NOTES -- The tavern was quiet on this early afternoon, the crowded tables and chairs warmed by only a few patrons. It made him a bit jittery, and he took another quick slug of his drink to calm his nerves. He was in disguise, after all; with fewer people, wouldn't he be easier to single out? That was the logic that fueled his anxiety. Joker had always been a skittish one, but the war with the Vindicators had truly pushed him over the edge. An edge that he had just barely clung on to, and was now fighting to pull himself back over. Who or what was he hiding from? Nothing tangible. Just his fears. Farens had the reputation of loving fights and taking up the call to battle without second thought, but not he. Joker had grown up in the Marketplace, isolated from the pack, so one could say he had a difference in culture because of his upbringing. So just imagine the utter fear he felt when suddenly Farens were being called to fight against the Vindicators (or for, depending on who you talked to). He had immediately gone into hiding, disguising his dark skin with pale makeup and covering his eyes whenever possible. It worked, he guessed - no one had called him out for being a Faren, and he got to avoid any sort of battle throughout the whole Vindicator ordeal. But it had left him terribly jumpy, and he still couldn't quite shake the fear that overwhelmed him. Joker - an alias, of course - still spent most of his days in the Market. He had many friends there that he could trust. The innkeeper at this tavern, for example, was quite kind and never questioned his long stays there, sometimes offering him a dish or two on the house. Despite the relatively quiet life he now led, Joker continued to keep a low profile. He had finally become comfortable enough to shed his white makeup, but he still wore a hooded cloak and couldn't help averting his eyes whenever someone passed by. It would take some time before he was back at center stage, performing for travelers and merchants here in the Market like he used to. The cloaked man picked at his half-eaten plate of food and sighed. Maybe he should go visit friends; some meaningless chatter and gossip might do him some good. made by ayu of btn