Special Event - A Drink For Two (Gara)

The tavern is brimming with life. Half-sung songs, bursts of laughter, and murmured conversations drowned in beer fill the air with a festive warmth. Gara moves between the tables with the skill of someone who has done this for years, balancing tankards, dodging drunken arms, and responding with smiles to stories she’s heard countless times.

You, seated at the bar with your own drink in hand -idly stroking Enid with the other-, watch her. It’s always impressive how she handles the chaos with a mastery that seems almost effortless, but tonight, her work appears more demanding than usual. There isn’t a single quiet corner in the tavern. Heartbinding Day has turned Tamarant into a whirlwind of emotions and the occasional drunken confession, all soaked in mead and wine.

“Need a hand?” you ask as she approaches the bar, setting down a stack of empty tankards.

Gara raises an eyebrow, amused. “You’d rather work than enjoy what the night has to offer?”

You shrug. “It’s not like I have anyone to share it with. Which, by the way, thanks for reminding me.”

She chuckles at your playful tone. “Well, if you’re willing to get your hands dirty, I won’t stop you.”

And so, you find yourself diving into the bustle alongside her. It doesn’t take long to realize that keeping up with Gara is nearly impossible. While you barely manage to serve a round without spilling anything, she’s already cleaned a table, taken new orders, and listened to a fisherman recount how he won over his wife by accidentally hitting her with his fishing rod. All this without the slightest sign of fatigue on her face.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you laugh as Gara passes by while you wipe down a table.

“Years of practice,” she replies, flashing a wink.

But the feeling of working alongside her, of sharing knowing glances amidst the sea of patrons, makes the night pass quickly.

When the last table is empty and the noise of the tavern has faded into the soft crackling of the hearth, you stretch with a satisfied sigh. Your clothes are stained with wine and flour, your hair slightly dishevelled, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, satisfied after a job well done.

“You saved my night,” Gara says, wiping her hands on a cloth. You lost sight of her during the final moments of closing, but before you can ask where she went, she adds, “Wait here.”

You watch as she disappears through the arch leading to the kitchen. When she returns, she carries two steaming mugs and takes a seat at the table closest to the fire. With a small gesture, she invites you to sit across from her.

The spiced aroma of the drink envelops you the moment you lift the cup to your lips. It’s not wine or beer, but something sweeter, with a hint of cinnamon mixed with the citrusy tang of lemon peels floating on the surface.

“This tastes amazing,” you exclaim. “What is it?”

“It’s called zaperoco,” Gara says with that thick accent of hers, gazing at her cup with a nostalgic expression as she absently strokes a half-asleep Enid. “We drink this often in my homeland. It’s a… family recipe. We prepare it for festivities or when we seek good fortune in the stars. It brings people together.”

“You don’t talk much about your homeland, but from the way you describe it, it must be a beautiful place,” you say, blowing gently over your drink.

Gara chuckles. “Doesn’t everyone speak that way about the place they were born?”

You smile faintly, lowering your gaze to your cup as thoughts of your childhood in Aelmere cross your mind. “Maybe.”

“But in this case, you’re right, it is beautiful,” she continues. “But it can also be noisy and chaotic. Especially during festivals.”

“You don’t seem like someone who enjoys chaos.”

Gara lets out a low laugh, shaking her head. “Not at all. But some moments are worth enduring the madness for.” She glances out the window, watching the couples strolling hand in hand through the streets of Sorrol, and her smile softens. “Like this one, for example.”

“Wow. You’re a complete softie, aren’t you?” you tease, taking another sip.

“I totally am,” she admits with a laugh. “I must say, I have a special fondness for this day. I admire the things people choose to give their loved ones.”

“So you like grand romantic gestures?”

“Not really. I value the simple over the extravagant. Like sharing sweet bread with a sibling, tying a soft ribbon around a lover’s wrist, a whispered promise in the dark…”

“Or making a friend a drink from your homeland?” you suggest with a smirk, raising your cup in emphasis.

Gara chuckles and nods. “Exactly.”

Then, she glances down at her cup, and you realize she’s barely touched her drink while you’re already halfway through yours. She turns the mug slowly in her hands, staring at the foam swirling on top.

“I never imagined I’d end up celebrating tonight like this,” she says suddenly, her violet eyes meeting yours as a gentle smile settles on her lips. “But I have to admit, it’s a nice way to end this day, don’t you think?”

The fire casts soft shadows over her freckled face, adding a quiet intimacy to the empty tavern. Outside, couples celebrate under the moon, exchanging words of love and promises for the future. But here, in the dim glow of the fireplace, with a warm drink in your hands and Gara’s presence beside you, there’s something just as special.

Something unnamed but undeniably warm, settling deep within your chest.

“I agree,” you finally reply, returning her smile with one of your own.