Last ChanceSoft music drifted through the air, lightening the atmosphere of the dingy drinkery. Silky white moonlight beamed its way through the windows, probably the most radiant of the light sources in the building. Only a few ponies were around, and only one was sitting at the bar itself...More Like This
"Hey, barkeep!" a scratchy, tired voice called out lamely. A brown stallion glanced up at its owner, his hoof still making small motions on the mug he was drying off. "Another one!" The barkeep nodded politely and obliged her, placing a fresh mug of golden-brown liquid before his customer, who grunted her thanks and brought it to her lips.
Bitterness: as far as taste goes, she had always enjoyed it. Cider was her favorite drink- alcoholic or non- because she enjoyed its bitterness. The strong, pungent flavor was reminiscent of power, of strength. A flavor that could make her feel its taste, and cause a reaction like a cringe or a shiver; the last stand of a food that fought back. As a feeling though,