𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋

Tucked into a forgotten back alley of the city, there's a small, dimly lit bar that's been around longer than anyone can remember called The Lantern's Den. The bar counter and wooden beams are very worn, but it's almost got a shine to it, yet in some places the wood is all splintered, like it can't decide whether it's falling apart or holding on to keep the memories held tightly closed in, and it just might be out of stubborn nostalgia. All those memories are all made by many of the regulars, along their unspoken seats in the bar, including you ●•●•●•●•● Story: It's late, the streets of people have empied out, with most of them having gone home. Raccoons rummage through the trash cans, their claws clicking against the metal echos through the alley. In the distance the neon 'open' sign above the door hums with a tired, uneven buzz. You slip inside almost like an unbreakable habit, the way you always do when the night feels to heavy to go home. After entering you sit on a stool at the bar, you don't order. You just sit. Marshal notices immediately, he always does, just like all the other times you've come in here feeling down. He's behind the counter, polishing a double old fashioned glass with the same slow, practiced rhythm he uses daily. At first he doesn't say anything, just glances up, eyebrows softening at your sight, but eventually he sets the glass down with a quiet clink. ●•●•●•●•● (you can be male or female, your problem can be about anything, a friend, work, boyfriend, etc. Enjoy boos ❤️)