The Sword and Staff [All Welcome]

NAME FENN, the boy scribbled amicably the faun’s way. He had decided that he liked this lady. “Bitch-tits” was an interesting insult, and he had taken mental note of it just in case the opportunity arose to use it himself. Every so often, he'd shoot a nervous stare back at Amari, along with a quick flick of his tongue. Nyehh! It was a relief to be away from her. Better yet, knowing that Vince was keeping an eye on the situation helped him relax even more.

...he probably needed to talk with him later though. Maybe.

There was a funny little fox that kept sniffing at him intently. From the familiar way the busty faun-lady interacted with it, the sharp vulpine must have belonged to her. Fenn watched it, his ears twitching curiously -- the fox’s eyes scrutinized him in an intelligent, almost-human fashion. It made him think of Daugi. Though, no fox was half so terrifying as the still-slumbering direwolf appeared to the outside eye. Fenn grinned. The fox got a couple frosty pat-pats atop its head-

And now someone else was being reprimanded for trying to steal him away. Hot potato, hot potato. Why… did all these people want him? The boy sighed and dropped his head to the tabletop, which spread forth a halo of frost. He glanced aside at the new person.

Huh. They were kind of... interesting.

Upon being called out by Phi, Fennapper-in-the-waiting stopped and stood stalk still, blinking at him with four amber eyes. Were those vines peeking out of her clothes? For a moment, the boy’s solid green irises lit up, a couple fluffy snowflakes poofing into existence around him as he wondered if this was another fae peering back at him. If not, she must be something more interesting still!

Shyly, he raised a hand and gave her a fluttering wave of his fingers. Hello!

"To tolerating current company," I raised my glass in kind.

It's amazing who you'll find lurking around in a tavern in the middle of Corone, isn't it?

At least Red had approached me with a neutral sort of sociopathic mopey-ness this time around. She was incredibly sour and broody the last time we met, in the frozen backwoods of Salvar. The alcohol probably mellowed her out a bit.

I was about to make some idle conversation about this shitty weather we've been having when a voice boomed over the crowd. Deep in the throng of drunk people, Hyperion froze when she heard her name called out. Momentary panic rippled through her, but she remained as calm as she could, still hunched over, fingers hooked and ready to latch onto her prey.

"Oh, my gods," I muttered to myself. "I don't need this today."

I stood up, cupping my hands against the little slit in my mask where my mouth would be. "Calm your gigantic fuzzy tits, Phi. Hype just wants to hug him. It will be the most harmless hour or two of his life."

I shot Red a glare as I sat back down. "Jeez, you have her brothels raided and several of her girls killed and suddenly you're the biggest, most suspicious asshole in the world."

[[ same problem again, I was writing mine when Amari was, there is 10 minutes between our posts >_< I edited the last one a bit ]]

She leant back ... to see Mari had gotten in the way.

Oh what a nice red-head. Stealing all of Philomel's more interesting friends. Why, now she was distracted, so the kid could be stolen from her so very easily now.

Here, Veridian reminded her, still sniffing the kid.

Ah yes, she still had Veridian to keep an eye on him.

So Philomel watched as Amari (she would never call her anything but her proper name - this 'Red' and 'Scarlet' stuff was ... ew) gave Maddison a lovely drink and bade her sit down next to her. Thus, Maddison did, and got right in the way of Philomel's fantastic speech of how Veridian was figuring out this boy-man.

Truly, it was actually rather interesting.

Why does he smell like dried blood? Veridian said, now getting rather concerned and shoving his nose to Fenn's sleeve where the chains had chafed and burnt him.

"Calm your gigantic fuzzy tits," she deemed it necessary to shout, despite the distance being ... well. Close enough not to shout. Philomel's speech after all had been made to be perfectly timed, had not the rude red-head stuck in.

"No need to shout, plant-brain!" Philomel bellowed back, as loud as her faun lungs could muster. In fact she even considered transforming here just so she could bleat thunders and cause the glass to crack with the noise. "Its fine, if kidnapper there wants to get in my way and interrupt. I will just sit here and mind my own business."

"There isn't exactly much reasoning with the woman, she thinks she's queen of the fuckin' world." Scarlet muttered, raising her own glass to her lips to take a sip. Scarlet used to have a bit of a love/hate or more so.. tolerate/annoy relationship with Philomel, Scarlet knew the faun meant well but she came off as arrogant. Incredibly so. The alcohol burned, and still, made her feel oddly nauseous, and it was not the same sort of sickness that came with too much alcohol. Not to mention she only had a few damn sips, and that wasn't even enough to get a child drunk.

"She spied on myself and Shinsou once, all night, and had the gall to offer us 'sexual advice' of course, she didn't think her watching us was weird, creepy, wrong or downright insane. No! God forbid the almighty Philomel keeper of whatever, and queen of whores could do any wrong. Honestly, someone needs to stop that high and mighty attitude of hers, it makes her intolerable."

Scarlet didn't bother to glance over her shoulder at the faun. "If she weren't like that, she would be tolerable, and that's coming from someone who somehow managed to become so emotionally stunted She don't feel nothing no more." Scarlet muttered, referring to her own predicament. Scarlet fell quiet, her eyes lowering to her drink.

What a fuckin' day. All she wanted to do was praise the fae on his escape, its not like she actually hurt Fenn. She only chained him up in iron, and tortured his pet in front of him, really...she had done him a favour. At least he wouldn't be so foolishly trusting now.

"Hey, damned if you do, damned if you don't. If you're an asshole may as well live up to the name."

ANother sip.

"Kidnapper eh? Pot. Kettle. Black." Scarlet muttered.

There was a second plant person sitting with a Amari.

This gave Fenn quite a fright as he glanced back to the one that still stood frozen and staring at him. Her hands were knitted together tightly, expectantly, almost.

So, the plant-person-y-thing wanted to hug him? That wasn’t the first time he had elicited that reaction from a stranger, but, was he sure they weren’t working with bitch-tits over there? The boy’s waving stopped flat and the air grew colder as he glanced between hugger-to-be plant-person and sitting-with-Amari plant-person. Maybe they were just loose friends, or something? He was faintly aware of -- and dismissive of -- the floofy fox’s further snuffling intrusions up the right sleeve of his cloak.

Damn it, he was too intrigued to try and scare her off. Wanting to hug him seemed harmless enough. Slightly cautious, Fenn reached over to write on the table again. His message was aimed mostly at the hugger-plant.

HI. I FENN. YOU WHO? YOU WHAT? FAE OR NO? WHY VINES?

He flicked his ears, eagerly awaiting answers.

Jethro, mostly human, was never sure where he might end up. It was his way, he always made the attempt at being some where that he was not expected to be after all. At this very moment he found himself at the entrance of a tavern, soaked by the rain through his duster to his mottled skin. Mud caked the bottom of his boots and splattered the sides of his boots and dotted his knees. With the kind of weather and the kind of individual that he was one would almost expect a loud clap of thunder and lightning strike to announce his entrance.

Na! Jethro stepped in quietly followed by the gowoosh of rain, and the moan of the wind which made candles flicker but not go out. He looked around the bar it appeared that he was late to some sort of party. Oh well he wasn't invited any way and that fact made him smile as he ordered a pitcher of mead and examined the room he was in and the cliques which had already formed.

There was a pair of people, they weren't in some dark corner, but actually at the bar! Something remarkable! Jethro smiled even more and decided to make some friends by presenting his large container of sweet tasting booze to the pair at the bar. The pair in question being Nicolette and Atzar "Good evening. May I join you?" He asked before sitting easily on a near by stool.

Hyperion remained hunched over for another moment, wary of the sideways glances that Philomel had given her. The briarbane knew of the faun and of her considerable power--not to mention the decidedly un-plant-friendly fire-wielding fox that always lingered nearby--from her few meetings with Madison. At first, she was taken aback when the word "kidnapper" was thrown around, but it took her a second to realize that Phi wasn't talking about her. It was aimed at She-Who-Shan't-Be-Hugged.

No, there will be no kidnappings today, not by me, Hype thought to herself as she released some of the tension that had been building in her muscles. Not unless this little cutie pie gives reeeeeeally good hugs.

The little pointy-eared boy cautiously reached up and scribbled a bunch of words onto the table, only slightly mindful of the fox sniffing around in his armpit. An introduction, a name, and a series of questions left in a trail of frost.

How curious, that he'd ask her if she were a fae.

What did Madison tell Hype about explaining what she was to other people? Ah, yes.

She tilted her head a few degrees, her way of smiling without removing her mask and scaring the living daylights out of everyone with a twisted mass of sharpened teeth. "Hello Fenn! It's nice to meet you! I am Hyperion," she said with a light touch of her breast.

"I am a Briarheart--" --and totally absolutely one-hundred percent NOT a briarbane, which are the lab-developed, parasite-born variety-- "--which is a kind of fae, I believe. We are created when a dryad releases some of its energy, and it is absorbed into by the heart of a human, which then begins to sprout... um..."

Hype glanced around, hoping nobody would see her pull down her skin-tight robe's sleeve an inch. The little boy stared at the vines of her arm for a moment, before giving a single nod.

"My friend over there, Madison, she is a Briarheart too," Hype said cheerfully as she rolled her sleeve back up. Fenn followed her gaze to the far corner, but concern creased his face when he saw the scarlet-haired woman that she sat with.

The sudden shift in attitude didn't escape her. "Oh, her? She's, um... yeah, she's a bit of a butt. But don't worry! She's not our friend! She just works with Madison once in a while!" Hype leaned in closer to Fenn, her voice growing quieter. "She used to be a lot nicer, months ago. I don't know what happened. We're trying to find out, though. Hopefully we can make her feel better and she'll be less of a bi--" The briarbane stopped herself from swearing. No need to teach the young thing any colorful language that he might write on every surface he possibly could.

Fenn broke his gaze from the back table, offering a delayed nod of understanding. Did he really understand? Hype didn't care. She still had a gift for him.

"I came over here because..." she trailed off. Hyperion was so gung-ho about squeezing this little boy until he squeaked like a child's doll, but now that she was inches from her goal? A hug seemed so... intrusive. There was one piece of business she had to take care of, one final question to ask to cement her hug as one that was proper and welcome.

"Would you... Would you..." She fidgeted as the words tried to come to her, her briar-knit fingers weaving themselves into knots. "Would you like to be my friend?"

Whatever feelings that had come over Fenn when he noticed who Hype's other friend Madison had been sitting with immediately melted away. A bit of color sprung to his cheeks, and his eyes went wide. With a humongous grin, he nodded enthusiastically.

Hype squealed with joy at the prospect of having a new friend, and lunged at him, arms wide open. After nearly banging her knee into the leg of the table, she scooped up the little boy--and consequentially the fox that was digging for buried treasure up the sleeve of his shirt--and gave him the biggest hug of his life.

- - - - -

"I should charge people for hugs."

"Hmm?"

I took a quick sip of my ale before adjusting my mask back into place. "Hyperion's hugs. I could make a killing off them."

Red looked at the briarbane for a moment, then returned her attention to her own mug. "There's nothing special about them."

"Not true," I said with a raised finger. "Back before... before I turned her into what she is now, she was a healer. A pretty good one, actually. Employed in one of the hospitals in Radasanth, she could pacify patients and mend their flesh with just a touch. I didn't know at the time, but when I fed her corpse to the parasites that would construct her new body, they absorbed some of that magic. Now, whenever she embraces someone, that power leaks into the, uh, the recipient." Reduces anger and bloodlust. Heals wounds. Gives them an additional bonus of a lingering warm and fuzzy feeling you just don't get with regular hugs--not that I would know, because my parents were pretty shitty about the whole hugging thing.

I washed the acidic thought of my parents back down my throat with another gulp of ale. "So anyways, what brings you to this part of the world?"

Oh, for the love of f*cking Gods...

Storm had finished having his way with his value-date when the floorboards beneath him started rumbling, and through the open seamed oak he could see people filling about the tavern under his feet. When he entered this afternoon with his companion, the sun was dropping, the sky a pleasant pink, and the fat-assed blonde that caught his attention looked ten years younger than she did now. It must have been the whiskey convincing him to take her up amidst the then-quiet early eve.

"Alright, sugar-tits; cash is on the table. I can feel a hangover setting in and things are getting wild downstairs. Give me a five minute head start and have yourself a night."

He pulled up his dress pants, catching a waft of something positively foul that would require more diligent washing later. His suit was still pressed and hair laid back obediently with only a modicum of effort; he looked ready for Sunday mass before sneaking down the stairs.

Well, I'll be damned. It's a f*cking superhero orgy down here.

It appeared all the specials had begun to converge, including many familiar faces. Amari was here, as was Redford. His new recruit, the one that went by "Jethro", had found his way in out of the rain. There was Philomel the mighty, and others he didn't know. They were all still wet from travels (unlike the bone-dry and bone-drained diplomat); he would stand out in this crowd.

"Good evening!" His greeting came as he sauntered down the stairs, gesturing with aplomb as he smiled in spite of himself. A heavy buzz in the room; there was little response. He pilfered a small bag from his pocket a few steps later, the clack of his metal heels on the hardwood ceasing as he produced a large handful of golden crowns. Hopping the railing from the stairs, he landed by the bar, dumping the coins over the polished hardwood.

"A round for the room!"

Philomel simply raised her eyebrows as Hyperion sauntered over and promptly picked not only Fenn up, but also Veridian as well. Just as Veridian was beginning to see the signs of burning and chafing around the boy-man's wrist.

So he was called Fenn. And he had recently been in some form of danger, tied up somewhere, likely with metal cuffs. Steepling her fingers Philomel leant back and eyed the tiny man, trying to figure out who could have done such a thing. Many that she knew, certainly, but who precisely would want to? He was adorable, and seemed rather harmless - so to what end was the difficulty here. Some tortured for the sake of it - that was fine, but their victims were usually particularly chosen and unless they had a penchant for small, child-looking adults then ... well.

He had asked Hyperion, by using the water vapoured glass again - clearly he did not like to speak - if the briarheart was some form of fae.

Which might answer what he was. Certainly the fae, with all their mysterious ways, had the capacity to produce a magically infantile being. Maybe some charm gone wrong, maybe some strange family who took for ages to grow up - Philomel could not be certain. But it gave rise, indeed, to the young man's origins and his outstanding attractive qualities.

Some help here?

Philomel's eyes looked over to Veridian, where she saw his snout just managing to finally peek out over Hyperion's arm. Letting out a light laugh, Philomel clapped her hands together in a muted fashion, filling the room with effortless amusement. Veridian, although not entirely hating the oppurtunity to be hugged to death, had his own pride also, and thus had been taken aback by the intial contact.

Then he had apparently rather liked it. Now he was beginning to feel tense and uncomfortable.

"Whatever you do, don't burst into flame, darling," Philomel said to him warmly, out loud. "Enjoy it." She looked at Hyperion's strange multi-faceted eyes. "He is saying his ego is hurting a little. Hug him slightly more if you don't mind me asking."

Keep an eye on Fenn, she told Veridian, directly, so that no one else could hear. We need to find out who is responsible for his hurt. We need to protect him.

Oh you and your instincts, Veridian muttered, and sighed to succub more to the cosy, but pride-hurting, hug.

Just as a man said he would buy a round of drinks and Philomel stuck a hand in the air. "A few are needed over here!"

Serious talks were not for public areas. Serious talks were for serious times, and serious time was not now. Well, technically it could be, but was there any point to it? Laughter and good times has been, is, and always will be the perfect medicine. Serious talks were like stitches that eventually helps close things up.

Ugh, stitches. Ven shook his head to get that train of thought out of his mind.

It was then that a well dressed man came down the stairs and declared a round for everyone.

Ven perked up at that. Oh sure he was still livid (on the inside), he would never turn down a free drink. IT IS FREE! AND A DRINK! Only a monster or someone absolutely petty would dare complain about it.

Ven turned to look at Eteri, then at the barkeep, who had returned with a towel, muttering about rich people. "I suppose you will be wanting those drinks?" he asked.

Ven nodded, "Yup," popping the p, before taking the towel and attempting to clean some of the mud off. The barkeep came back quicklyh with a glass for both Eteri and himself, then hustled off to serve others.

Ven looked back at Eteri again. "Who would have thought coming to a place like this would get us free stuff AND the chance to meet up again?"

Scarlet thought about Madison's words, were Hyperion's hugs really that great? A small sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back in the booth chair, the leather shifting and making squeaking noises. "I mostly felt drained after them, that and the bright flashing light sorta gave me a headache." She waved Madison off, to avoid any further discussion on the matter. It didn't mean much now.

"I was returning from some errand Ulroke sent me on, he's been very..." Sscarlet tilted her head, "On Edge lately, and protective." Madison raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I know." Scarlet mused. "I do not understand it either, it's like - when my emotions left, he somehow sucked them all up." Scarlet scoffed. "Course I know that's not the case, it was probably the wake up call he needed."

It was then, the salt and pepper man stumbled down the stairs, judging from his disheveled look, from a good round of sex with some well paid escort. He offered a round of drinks for the room, which resulted in multiple people taking up the offer, Scarlet didn't much feel like drinking any more than she already had, unless that drink was perhaps from his private reserve, it remained her favourite, even now.

"I'm pretty sure everyone in this room wants me dead, or at least very, very, mutilated." Scarlet mumbled, taking another sip from her whiskey. "Honestly if it weren't pissing down with rain, I probably wouldn't bother stickin' around. What about you, Madison. I thought that the catgirl, and the book would have kept you busy....but I see you've taken care of at least one of those already."

BY THE GODS.

Fenn squeaked softly and sank deeper into the hug, wrapping his own birdishly delicate arms around this sudden new friend of his. "Friend", now, being sternly solidified in his mind -- Fenn couldn't believe how good this felt. Bright was one way to describe the sensation he got from the embrace. Magic-bright, to be more specific, that elusive sensation Fenn got whenever he came in contact with a source of sorcery.

It was as if… He couldn’t put his finger on it. Some of the tenseness inside him melted away, at least for now.

Fenn rested his head on Hype’s shoulder and rubbed his eyes, his expression falling somewhere between smugness and befuddlement. Magic hugs? Or, magic touch? Maybe he should get a book on Briarhearts to learn more about this.

His own icy attunement subdued in the face of it, the frosty fae's touch leaving only a few bare flecks of frost on Hype’s colorful fabric-swath clothing. Which was lucky, because he’d rather not give the fox or his new plant-fae friend frostbite. The boy blinked and stared off into space. What was he thinking about before this? Was he thinking about anything before this? Everything was moving so fast and so haphazardly tonight, and the dreamy strangeness of it all reminded him of Sidhe.

That was fine, he guessed.

His eyes fluttered half-shut. He could almost fall asleep in Hype’s arms right now, right next to the evidently ego-hurt fox. “Warm” wasn't a state of being he typically ascribed to good-feeling happenstances, but he’d make an exception for this.

I nodded my head as the redhead spoke. "I know how that feels, walking into a den of wolves who'd love nothing more than to tear you limb from limb. It's just a shame that it always seems to happen in a tavern such as this one."

"We had a bit of a falling out over some dead hookers and questionable loyalties," I said in hushed tones as I threw a finger Philomel's way. "And that man over there, the giant meathead with the metal arms? Crushed his skull in the Citadel after a couple cheap shots. And the blonde who was talking to Philomel a few minutes ago?" I motioned towards Cain, one of the other five in the Red Forest the day we all killed ourselves a self-styled god. "He knows a little bit more about me than I'd prefer. My body count, my crimes against man and nature. One of those n'urds who considers the world a fairy tale or a game or something and himself the hero of it all."

"Yeah, I know him too," Red said, her vacant eyes glued on Cain.

"Oh?"

---------

Hyperion could have sat on that floor forever. Much to her enjoyment, Fenn was making himself very comfortable, nuzzling into her shoulder like any small child finding comfort would. His head drooped slightly, bumping into Veridian's noggin and using him as a pillow. Behind her mythril face mask, Hype's smile grew. Goodness, if only Madison would surrender herself to her embrace like this! How much happier would she be if she just learned to accept a hug once in a while?

But alas, all good things must come to an end. The fox had taken particular offense to the little one preparing to fall asleep on him, and began squirming uncontrollably.

Off to the side, Philomel stifled another giggle.

Hype relented, and after one final squeeze, let the two of them go. Veridian immediately put several feet between them, having suffered enough for one evening. Fenn made a few stirring noises, looking up at the briarbane with gigantic eyes.

"You're a very good hugger," she said, leaning forward on her knees and giving his messy hair a quick tousle.

Veridian sprinted across the gap between Hyperion and Philomel with the speed of a dashing wind. Letting out a tiny, pride-hurt yelp he leapt up and onto Philomel's lap, burying his face into her side. He acted very much like his canine counterparts, snuffling deep and moaning with a purr to his voice, unsure of whether or not he really had liked what just happened.

"Oh you ..." Philomel laughed and scooped her arms underneath her beloved's body.

Leaning back she subjected him to yet another embrace, letting her hair flow down between them, and tickle his nostrils. He squirmed and he moaned, but all she did was flip him onto his back, so his legs were in the air and lift the whole foxy package to her face and tightly, but gently, hold him there. As he fought, and she simply held, silence fell between them until their heartbeats became synchronised, and there was just ...

Raw emotion.

Her eyes flickered over to where the Fenn boy was being greeted by Hyperion. Philomel let a soft smile fall across her face as she felt Veridian finally give up, and relax. He huffed and moped, but stayed still as she enjoyed the fire living within him, the heat that he naturally now expelled. She paused and then lifted her head a little, directly posing Fenn a question.

"Do you like rabbits?" she asked, and in her mind she mentally sought for Mao.

Currently the rabbit was hiding in the back garden of the pub, beneath the foundations of the patio, where worms and toads made their homes. It was a good way to keep a distance from the rain as well as being close enough to run for Philomel, should the need arise. Also it was a rather convenient place for Delath the dragon to pop his nose into and say, 'hello Mao,' with a snort, then disappear again.

"I have a rabbit too. Who is less grumpy than this fox."

Fenn’s ears twitched at the question posed to him. He leaned against the table’s edge, one hand on the glass, the other haphazardly fixing his ruffled, fluffled hair. BUNNIES VERY NICE, he scrawled over to Phi with a small smile. HAVE WOLF. SHE FLUFFY, VERY STRONG. SPOOKY FACE. I LIKE. He decided not to mention that she frequently snacked on rabbits.

“A wolf?” the faun asked, stroking her fox friend tenderly.

YES! MEET LATER, SHE TIRED, SLEEP NOW, Fenn explained, his handwriting writing doing happy loops. CURIOUS ABOUT YOU RABBIT.

For a quick moment, Fenn turned back to Hyperion, who had been curiously peering about the tavern while he and Phi spoke. There was some fuss going on about some swanky guy handing out free drinks. If it weren't for the fact that the tiny fae was perfectly capable of stealing a sip from whoever was nearby -- except Amari, never her -- he might have joined in the festivities. As it was, he leaned over to gingerly tap Hype on the shoulder.

“Oh! Yes?” she asked, quirking her head to the side.

WANT TO SEE MY SHINIES?

Her four eyes blinked and furrowed from behind her mask. “Shinies?”

Fenn patted the hefty bag hanging off his shoulders and hoisted it into his lap. It made a faint clinging as it moved. That was what one did when they became good friends with another, right? Show off their shiny stuff? That’s what Fenn did, anyway. As far as he was concerned, anyone who claimed they didn’t have at least a passing interest in shinies was a lying bitch-tits. PRETTY SHINY BITS I COLLECT, he wrote at Hyperion, an enthusiastic gleam in his eyes. I GOOD AT COLLECTING.

“Oh sure, I bet you are! Could you give me a second?” She glanced over her shoulder, hands knitting together with that quivering energy of hers -- he wasn't sure whether it was more excitement or nervousness. “I think I see someone else who could really, really use some cheering up first.”

Fenn gave her a bobbing nod. After bestowing his head with another ruffly pat, the briar-fae skittered off into the crowd.

Green fishbowl eyes followed her for a minute. So, he had two people he could maybe kind of trust. It was up in the air as to whether it’d stay that way or become Amari and Aengus all over again, but he was hoping for the former.

Storm realized quickly that although his drinks had been readily accepted, people still kept a nervous distance from him. He was sometimes seen as distant, aloof, or clique-prone, which was was to be understood. He'd traveled far, but not socialized as much as most were wont to.

Philomel. That great, magnificent beast. Must be tough for a goddamned monstrosity like that to make friends...

Hmm...

Maybe not; she's powerful as high hell and saved my bacon at least once.

He moved over to the great creature with a smile, bright white teeth perched between smiling dimples as he offered a peaceful wave. This was the time to build bridges, not pick fights. He saw she was also sited near a fresh drink, so she'd need to be at least tangentially aware of his generosity.

"Philomel, correct? Phi, or Mel, or what would you prefer?" He closed his smile as he gave her a coy look, dropping his jaw to present her with his bright eyes before allowing his smile to spread again. "Storm Veritas. You saved my ass, along with the the hides of many back with that awful octopus-squid-angel monstrosity when the fellowship of swords came together. We also have had some run-ins in a pyramid..."

He gave a quick look to a girl that looked something sort of like what could possibly be Madison, although her transformative nature made full recognition implausible. Perhaps Philomel would get his reference; perhaps she would ignore it.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, but I -had- to say hello, and meet this handsome little fellow." His glance shot down to the boy, who looked wildly out of place in a tavern full of heavy drinks and whores.

Screw it, whatever. I was a friend of the bottle not so much older than this one.

Quote:

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deleted the one above before Storm's and copied it here to answer him also in this one

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Philomel gently laid Veridian down as the boy-man-possible-Fae told her he liked rabbits. Smiling then she left Veridian on the armchair, fussing over himself to sort his fur that had been messed up now. By both briarheart and faun. But one was four-eyes Hyperion - lovely and harmless enough, as long as you did not instigate anything with her - and the other was Philomel beloved - he was not allowed to moan about that. Thus, he did not say anything but rather took to grooming himself, his eyes still patiently watching the Fenn.

Philomel herself got to her feet and whilst Fenn was distracted with Hyperion she turned her back on the party and left. Her drink came half a second later, but Veridian simply nosed for it to be placed down on the table by the chair. His mind focused on the faun, and he was quiet satisfied to find that she was going where he thought she would - out the back door and into the pouring rain, where a rabbit hid beneath the patio.

Sighing, Philomel ran out into the rain, knowing Mao would not come unless she came herself to get her. Rain splattered in fat drops, immediately cascading onto her and soaking hair, blouse and fur. But she went as swift as she could, heading direct for the hole in the stone work where the foundations could be seen, and small animals could fit. Her eyes had not seen Mao go in, but through their mental connection she knew where she was, and the soul was frightened, shivering, confused. There was no way she would come unless it be with Delath - and Philomel did not want to suddenly force the appearance of a twenty foot dragon on anyone.

Bending down she bit back her pride as she placed hooves in deep mud and shoved her face within the hole. A little while of searching and she saw the brown, wide eyes staring back, long ears twitching.

"It is only me, love," she said gently, then exchanged sight for touch, extending a hand into the space. "It is ..."

A small moment of feeling around in grime. A brush with something horrid, bumpy, cold and wet. A toad - ew - then ...

Soft fur, warm body. Shaking limbs pressing themselves desperately into the curve of her palm. Philomel sighed and smiled, cupping her hand around the rabbit gently and she tugged, carefully lifting the small form up and along.

Mao was perfect. With such a trust as formed by their bond, she did not struggle, but knew Philomel would never bring her to harm. Thus, still she remained as the faun brought her to her chest, and smiled. She bent over the form, keeping the rain from covering the rabbit and rather sacrificing her own now dripping wet hair. One kiss, and then she stood, twisting around to run back into the warm, dry inn.

You are soaked, Veridian said, welcoming her back.

Philomel simply nodded as she squelched back in, a grin on her face. Uncupping her hands from near her breast she produced the calm, and dry form of Mao the brown and white rabbit, sniffing the rich scents of the air. Gently she laid the bunny on the table, looking over at Fenn.

"This is Mao," she said, stepping back to begin the process of wringing out her hair. There was a full trail of droplets and puddles going from the door to her, and people were beginning to complain. But she ignored them. "Told you I have a rab ..."

"Philomel, correct?"

Philomel turned to see a man walk up. One that she recognised remarkably well, yet one she had not ever really properly talked to. Despite their very obvious connection under the certain name of Shinsou van Osiris ... She listened as Storm Veritas went on to formally introduce himself, reminding her about the times they had battled together. In a giant pyramid. In a mysterious cavern made of crystal.

Ah yes, that place that was vaguely connected to the very rabbit on the table now whom she had brought to meet Fenn. The same one that Storm apparently wanted to make friends with.

The faun blinked, then extended a hand and nodded. "Nice to properly meet you, I guess. And thank you for the drinks. Usually I get called Matriarch, or Philomel but as you know Shinsou so well ... I guess you can call me Phi." She smiled briefly, unsure about this man, but willing to offer him kindness.

"You walked in here with the attitude of someone who had had a pleasing night. Tell me, which one of my ... I mean the establishments were you at tonight?"

"Yeh, Hero-ing around is a good way to describe him." Scarlet muttered, her eyes still on Vincent Cain. She recalled the day she met him, the day she had accidentally hurt Fenn.

"Some young looking whelp was sticking his hands in Sanctum documents, how the hell he got there? No clue. That's fishy enough as is, he ran off with some valuable information. I was ordered to follow, and kill him. I did." Scarlet shrugged, "He came charging through the forest with some premonition that I had killed Fenn, granted... the tiny adult was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I did stab him but I healed him straight away. Vincent had me up against a tree by my throat demanding answers."

Scarlet scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Because one can totally give answers when they're larynx is crushed, I'm not some fuckin' telepathic mind-reader, although he seems to be able to do some sort shit like that. He threw me to wherever it is he lives, near a beach in Raieria and told me I was being captured and detained under the authority of his law. Didn't listen to a word I said, didn't listen to the fact that if I were to stay there a certain silver haired someone would come looking. He just...fucker."


Scarlet muttered more words bitterly under her breath. "What kind of dick insults someones cooking then throws them halfway across Althanas, sure, I threatened one of his maids, but I had been there two weeks. TWO weeks of dealing with his shit, his talks of valor and justice, of right and wrong, of what makes a good person, of judgement and - " Scarlet paused.

This was pointless. It was pointless going on about such a thing. "The hypocrisy pisses me off." She said with finality.

Scarlet was tempted to wander over to Storm, say hello, and maybe pry some dry clothing from the man since he was the only person whom seemed to have escaped the storm before it hit, but he headed straight to fuzzy-tits-McGee. Fantastic.

"Sounds like Cain." Madison said.

The bar woman came over, asking what both Scarlet and Madison wanted for their free drink. Scarlet shook her head, "Unless its from his private reserve, I'm not interested." It was odd to hear those words coming out of her mouth, just what the hell was wrong with her damn body to cause it to reject something she very much enjoyed? Scarlet would have to figure it out later.

"If you don't want yours, I'll take it."

"Be my guest, Madison."

I hid behind Venn, clutching his shoulders tightly when Scarlet, the red headed woman looked my way and narrowed her gaze at me, she exchanged some words with Madison, her black and red eyes still on me.

"Is that her Bluebell?"

I gave him a nod. "Y-Yeh..."

Venn fell oddly silent, it was a silence I was not used to. I was about to question him on it, but was distracted when both he and and i were handed towels, I shoved my face into it and rubbed vigorously. It didn't exactly help, I was still covered in mud and soaking wet. Still...I sat on the bar stool next to Venn, and sniffed my drink. I wrinkled my nose. "Apple Cider, Eteri think." I took the mug and bought it to my lips, downing a few big gulps before I had to stop, the bubbles and stuff caused my tummy to rumble. Oh yeh...I forgot to eat today. Oopsie!

I turned to Venn who was insisting on having a good time, and on ignoring the more darker themes that underlined our conversation. I offered him a weak smile. "I head back to Barchie's. I stay there now, but this..." My ears fell flat against my head. "Eteri rather be naked then wet and cold." I muttered, kinked tail twitching side to side. "Boo. What happen with venn?" I asked, tilting my head over to him as I took another long drink.

"How Venn go with only half soul?"

Luckily for Hyperion, her prey seemed to show no interest in moving. In fact, the only muscles of hers that were working were the ones in her face twisting it into the deepest of frowns, and the ones in her wrist working her drink, swirling it around and bringing it up to her lips for the occasional pull of cold, refreshing pee-water.

Hype didn't understand what was so good about alcohol, and why everyone seemed to drink so much of it. In her own research, she noted that it was consumed on two different occasions: first, when people were happy and had cause to celebrate; and second, when people were sad and needed to become happy again.

It didn't take a master scholar to see that the current situation fell under the latter.

And somebody unhappy? In Hype's presence? This could not stand!

"Target acquired," the briarbane whispered under her breath as she snaked her way through the crowd, lightly pressing the night's patrons on their arms or sides to get them to clear a path. "One Rayleigh Aston, identified as Madison's mechanic acquaintance. Known other occupations: Bartender. Once witnessed serving drinks at an establishment we once attended. Miss Madison left me to converse with Miss Aston while she spoke privately with Lichensith Ulroke. Awkwardly greeted me, then moved to serve other customers."

She licked her razor-sharp teeth. "Grudge Level: Zero."

As she stalked her way across the tavern, she noticed the mountain of a man that sat with Rayleigh. He was well over seven feet tall, and maybe four or five feet wide. Arms clad in metal, chin clad in beard. He looked friendly enough--must have been, if he kept company with the mechanic. He looked considerably more relaxed, if not slightly exhausted. Would probably react to a sudden hug with surprise mixed with bemusement. A potential new friend--Hype made a note to introduce herself later on, after Ray was attended to and Fenn got to share his shinies with her.

Hype found herself only fifteen feet away from the brunette. She watched as she took another pull from her liquid mood-juice, catching glimpses of the mechanic from the gaps between patrons as they milled around her.

"Preparing gripping mechanisms." The briarbane's fingers twitched, her hands clenching and relaxing over and over again.

"Disengaging concerns for personal space." She took a step closer, her shoulders hunched, every muscle in her body tense and ready to spring.

"Enacting Friendship Protocol Zero-Zero-Six... In three... two... one..."

Hype straightened herself up, smoothed out a few creases in her sleeves, pulled her gloves tight, and confidently strode from the crowd, making a bee-line to Rayleigh and Big 'n' Tall. Nobody paid attention to her until she pulled out an empty chair at the table and scooched up next to Rayleigh.

"Hello, Miss Aston," she said cheerfully, "It's me, Madison's friend Hyperion! I noticed that you were looking sad, and might needed some cheering up!"

And because her definition of cheering up was wrapping her briar-knit arms around someone until a few body parts tingled due to cut circulation, Hyperion threw her arms wide and went in for the kill.

Generally Storm had made a point to engage women of all sorts, although he certainly preferred they bring either intelligence or beauty to the table. The pretty ones he had very temporary uses for; the sharper witted ones were far more engaging. Philomel was at least a little of both. She was beautiful from the hips up, if you could get by the horns and stay focused on pretty face or whoppers that seemed to float beneath her collarbone. She was also far too well-traveled to be dumb. Phi was a sharp one, and her coy line of questioning surprised him. He knew she was playing him.

"Which establishment?" Storm rubbed at his chin as he looked carefully at her pretty face for some sort of tell.

Maybe you didn't see me come down the stairs, but I'm bone dry. If I could miracle my ass from place to place, I'd be busier than just going bar to bar...

...err, well, nah screw it, I'd still probably pub hop if only to be more picky with the whores.

"Unlike our friend Shinsou, I can't disappear and pop around from place to place. I hope you don't think all of us humans are the same!" Storm grinned again, hoping that he hadn't upset the towering faun. Her beauty masked some sort of unholy power; he didn't want to pick a fight with all that business.

"If you'll pardon the crudeness, I've been at this establishment a bit longer than everyone else, but was feeding some other vices when the crowd began to rush in."

His eyes dropped down; perhaps she'd buy that he was gambling, but there was no use trying to outright lie to her.

"And yourself? What brought you and yours here? Just seeking shelter, or something more interesting?"

The swanky guy handing out free drinks was here. Fenn gave him a reserved wave, stared into his coin-bright eyes, and scooted away a few inches.

The faun chatted familiarly with Storm as she dripped water out over the floor. He sensed… something building between Phi and Mr. Storm McSwank Veritas over here. It was another one of those things Fenn could notice but not identify. A contest was missing to him; the two's conversation hinged on esoteric to his pointed ears. They twitched in annoyance. Oh well. Gently, the fae scooped up Phi’s fluffy white-brown Mao rabbit and set it in his lap. It was a big rabbit. A big, well-behaved rabbit. He stroked the agreeable creature and continued to stare warily at the new stranger. Handing out free drinks or no, Fenn wasn’t sure how to feel about this man yet.

With a quick tap on the table, a patch of frost appeared. FENNIK GLENWEY, the boy scrawled in it. It was a formal introduction, and a cold introduction, in more ways than one.

Uncertainly, he stole a swig of an unattended drink. Slurp.

Mao blinked huge eyes, and sat there with a silent shiver running down her back. Ears twitched, sensing for danger, but as she looked around and realised that indeed she was safe and had been rescued by the Food-Giver Philomel. There was no Rock-Teeth-Protector Delath here - he was the one that truly made Mao feel safer - but there was a faun, and there was a Hot-Fur also known as Veridian. Therefore she settled into Fenn's lap with a very un-rabbit like ease, having forgone the instincts of her kin a long time ago. When she was born as the daughter of a rabbit-god. When she had been rescued by a faun.

The matter, was, however, she was illiterate. She also had limited intelligence. So she did not see and recognise the words. It took Veridian to huff in frustration over the fact Fenn was trying so hard to make friends with everyone and anyone who came. He looked up and saw Storm conversing with Philomel, and it might take time for him to notice. Veridian thought it good to at least start off with names. Twitching his tail left to right he paused before letting hot breath, made hotter by the fire inside him, fog over much of the table. Then, settling beside Fenn he very awkardly stretched out with one paw and wrote in large, messy writing.

'THAT STORM. HE FRIEND. I AM VERIDIAN.'

Then he looked to the boy, looking at him with deep, intelligent eyes and waiting for the response.

Philomel meanwhile was pausing.

"You came so bright and cheery that I assumed you had had company. No, I don't seem to presume anything of humans. You do know most of my friends, clients and comrades are human. I am from Radasanth after all." She picked up her drink and leant towards Storm with a glint in her eye. "The reason I asked was ... Well you do know what it is I do for a living, right? Shin dear must have mentioned it."

She drank a small amount, then set it down.

"That was not the reason I came in here, though. Rarely do I actually provide any service anymore, and there isn't really any business that needed to be done in the city." She shook her head. "No, actually I'm in town because I need a new set of armour." She shrugged. "Weird, I know."

Then she smiled at him. "It is nice to properly meet you. You are definitely more down to earth than Shin dear has let on."and

Her smile was genuine, despite the craziness of the inn. To say that this was not her scene would be a gross understatement, and she was quite taken aback by the behavior. None of the taverns she had visited in Salvar had doubled as a circus. Then again, those patrons had known that quasi-royalty sat among them. Odds are likely that they were on their best behavior. She was well liked, and far from a dictator who might drive her people into submission, but they probably avoided being their rowdy, genuine selves in her presence. Besides, as hectic as the crowd was, and as unimpressed she remained regarding some of the behavior, she was shamefully intrigued as well. This was the sort of entertainment she generally sought in novels. "I do appreciate the offer, Atzar, but Master Cain has already placed me on his tab. I would hate to insult him by refusing his hospitality."

She wondered if he would even notice though, given the small throng of strangers that had gathered around him. Was it simply his ostentatious ways, beckoning for other travelers to gawk as if he were some street performer? Or did he know these people? Nicolette's expression did not waver, but her amber eyes narrowed just slightly as she regarded him. There was so much that she still did not know when it came to the sandy-haired scholar. Was that enough to deter her from joining his guild? "Still," she continued suddenly, swinging her gaze back to the man seated beside her, "I would like to remain here, and enjoy your company a bit longer. If you have no objections."

When the newcomer approached the pair, and asked to join, Nicolette's smile remained. His appearance was a surprise, as there was something just a bit unusual in his discolored skin, but she was too well-educated to react. A diplomat's face was fit for a poker game, Alexander had joked once, given its inability to be read by even the most trained eye. "Welcome," Nicolette greeted warmly. "You are more than welcome."

Yet another stranger clomped down the stairs. He seemed to glow, cheeks flushed pink, a broad smile on his face. It would not be difficult to guess at where he had come from, but the woman shoved the thought from her mind immediately. It was not her place. Instead, she loosed a soft laugh and shook her head, blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. "Consider that the third gentleman to offer me a drink this evening."

Someone greeted her, the cheerful words bubbling over the noise of the rowdy tavern. Rayleigh paused mid-swig, tipping the glass down to peer over the rim at the newcomer. Speaking of which, whose glass was it? She had finished the wine, and emptied the glass that had been abandoned, half-empty, on the table top. Was this now John's drink? Or had the waitress brought by another? She could hardly be expected to keep track, given her miserable mood, and the rapid rate in which she was consuming the alcohol.

Hyperion? Madison's friend? Her first thought, though muddled by the wine, and the beer, and whatever was in this glass, was is Maddy here? It had been a long time since she had seen the woman. Their last encounter had been incredibly brief, another tavern, in what felt like another time. When she thought on it, Rayleigh could faintly remember Hyperion there too. At the time, Ray had been working as a waitress, taking some of the pressure off her good friend, and owner of the establishment. She knew nothing of this striking woman, who was dressed a bit like an exceptionally stylish priestess. Truth be told, the mechanic knew little of Madison either, though she had always hoped to learn more. Their love of tinkering united them, despite whatever differences kept them apart for months at a time. Spending more time with Maddy had always been a priority, but it had never seemed to happen.

The figure before her seemed to radiate joy, trembling with it. Though Rayleigh could not see her face, she envisioned one of those smiles that split a person's face in half. It was too much. "Hi Hyperion," she answered plainly, gaze drifting back to Vincent to remind her why she was angry in the first place. Hold onto that mad. But the other woman did not appear to take the hint, nor was she frightened away by Rayleigh's foul mood. On the contrary, it seemed to draw Madison's friend another step closer. "Look," Ray began, her face screwing into an expression of mild discomfort as a headache began its slow pulse. "It's good to see you again, but now isn't the best time, because-"

Hyperion lunged, her arms wide, her masked face unreadable as it drew closer and closer to Ray's own. "Oh fuck," the brunette choked out as Hyperion's arms circled her shoulders, holding her close in a grip far too sturdy for a lady of the church. "John," Ray whimpered, her foggy mind failing to comprehend what was happening. "Help, help, help." Can't compute. Her mousy frame was rigid, tense with confusion and unease. Hyperion, however, seemed to hum with power. And... warmth?

"Let me go," Ray said weakly, with the conviction of an addict refusing another hit. "Please." There was a soft hushing noise in her ear, and after a moment's focus, she realized that her attacker was soothing her. She struggled again, only once, before succumbing to the hug. It was as if the contact was chasing the haze from her brain, and heightening each sensation. Each raw, exposed, vulnerable sensation. She had been embraced before, by Vincent, who had proven to be a habitual hugger. But this was different, comforting in the way a mother's hug might be. Not that Rayleigh would ever know that. Her mother had died before the girl could utter her first cry. The thought drew a tight-throated sob from Rayleigh, and before she knew it, her own short arms had wound their way around Hyperion. Her fingers dug in, anchoring herself to the complete stranger, as her face pressed against the fabric stretched tight across Hype's shoulder.

The boy was adorable; a bundle of mischief and energy that looked almost cosmic in its innocence. His name appeared to be Fennik, and he was stealing drinks. The adult in Storm wanted to shepherd the boy away, to keep him from trouble in the midst of all this mania. The ten year old that lingered beneath the graying hair and faint crow's feet remembered drinking when his parents left the house; was he so much older?

No, but there weren't a half-dozen capable killers for you to piss off, either. Better close to the boy; he may need help soon enough.

With a friendly smile, the wizard pulled his own tall glass of mead a touch closer, pivoting his body against the bar betwixt both Philomel and his new fascination Fennik. He could keep a wandering eye on the boy while giving the faun the attention she rightly commanded. Fennik was doing him a favor; a distraction could keep the gaze of the mage from settling inappropriately in the long, promising crevasse between the hypnotizing breasts of Philomel.

Eyes off those milk-wagons, you damned fool. You're too f*cking old to embarrass yourself like that.

His demure attention turning back to Philomel, he carefully considered her words.

"Yes, I had myself some company, I guess my poker face is slipping." He laughed at himself, a bashful nod as he quickly checked to ensure shoes were still attached to his feet. "As for you, well..."

"I think you scare the shit out of Shin, actually. Hard to tell; maybe you just intimidate him. I can't blame him; his experience is a bit limited, and you strike quite the impression." The electromancer was concerned he was rambling, circling back to the girl. He'd return conversation to the woman; Storm had learned many ladies found themselves to be a wonderful topic of conversation.

"He certainly didn't spell out your old occupation, but it doesn't really matter. Far better to quicken heartbeats than to stop them, no?"

What Nicolette decided to stay with Atzar for a while, he nodded. “Be my guest,” he assented. He found the young woman to be a pleasant, relaxing companion, especially when compared to the eclectic, increasingly-raucous crowd that milled about the room.

He turned his attention to his stew. It was a rather plain meal – meat, potatoes, vegetables, not much seasoning – but it was warm and filling. The hungry wizard spooned it down with the occasional swallow of beer, eyes watching the action all the while. He observed with something between amusement and anxiety as a woman with four eyes and a mask stalked random people, ferociously doling out… hugs? Atzar didn’t know what to make of that.

As he neared the bottom of the bowl, a newcomer arrived. Trailing mud and soaked through, the middle-aged man’s blotchy skin didn’t present an image of good health. So when he offered his bottle of booze to the mage and his friend, Atzar eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?” he asked. But Nicolette agreed to his company, and the man sat down.

“A round for the room!” The new voice sounded from the far end of the bar, near the stairs. Coins clattered on the countertop, followed by a roar as patrons took the man up on his offer. The mage noted that his own drink was starting to run low, and he waited for an opportunity to signal the suddenly-harried bartender for a replacement.

One he had finally met the bartender’s eyes and received the desired nod of acknowledgment, he turned to the mottled-skinned newcomer. “What’s your name, stranger?” he asked. “I’m Atzar.”

Veridian waited with an unusual amount of excitement, tail swishing manically from left to right. His change from being pride-hurt to this now intrigued, happy little pup was something of a turn for him. But Philomel in her neraly ten years with him had seen more peculiar things. Through all of her close romances (there had been a girl called Astarelle for a while, probably the closest Philomel could claim in any way to a true feeling of romantic love) she had seen Veridian grow more and more jealous with each one. Shinsou was/had been merely the latest to aggravate Veridian in what could be a challenge to the main male in Philomel's life.

Aside from Delath the dragon of course. And aside from Vaeron.

Philomel threw the thought of her daughter, so close nearby, out of her head. For now, she wouldn't that about that. Celandine was happy and healthy at least. Instead she focused in on Storm, her eye keeping Veridian and his scrawled words in the corner of her eye.

"I intimidate Shinsou?" she asked, rather surprised. "I scare him? I do not see why not?" She grinned slightly, taking up her drink again and taking a medium-length long draught. Pausing then, she proceeded to point out no less than three females and one male out of the damp and mixed-emotional crowd that made up this enjoyable pub.

Lowering her voice she listed off names. "Mandrake," she pointed to the young man, a rare beauty, "Stefanie and Esper," she gestured at two human women, one flirting, the other standing and watching, "And Partalia," last was an elf, with long flowing hair, slumped in a corner looking utterly bored. Philomel looked back to Storm. "I could tell you their histories, where they came from and why they have been better off under my scheme than any other hand." She shrugged, "To put it short, I started off as one of them, though with a little murder thrown in, and knew there needed to be a change in the world."

A wide smile appeared across her face, "That is my occupation and history spelt out to no real detail and a few words for you. How was it? And how was your company?"

Upon hearing his recruiter order a round for every one on his dime Jethro turned and raised the tankard in thanks "You are most gracious!" he shouted in full voice before ordering a boilermaker and placing the brimming pitcher of mead back on the bar he gave a dancers bow to the young lady in his presence. "Thank you for the invitation" then he turned to the ladies companion "It's a pitcher of mead, it might be over kill but over kill is under rated. Please have a drink." He smiled his teeth were white at any rate and took a seat.

"My name is Jethro. It's nice to meet you Mr. Atzar." He poured out a glass of the warm mead for each of the pair he had sat with. "What is your name lady?" He asked in a most cordial tone. His boiler maker was delivered in a timely manner. Now most people drinking such a drink tends to power the entire thing down in as few drinks as possible. Jethro how ever was different treating it as a sipping drink meant to be savored rather than to be used to get drunk on. He smiled at the pair raising on last cursory toast to the electromance who bought him his drink.

After seeing the redheaded woman, who apparently just happened to be in the same tavern as them (seriously, what are the odds?), Ven went silent. He didn't doubt Eteri, he could feel her fear. Genuine fear. Fear that one does not attain on a fluke nor can be replicated. No, she was the real deal.

And he hated her for that. His emotions had a face to attach too. How he wished he could teach her a lesson. He wanted her to suffer for what she did. He wanted her to hurt. Not a quick one, but one drawn out for a long time.

This train of thought was unlike him, but when dealing with such situations, Ven figured he could make an exception here.

But how could he? He knew nothing of the the deadly red flower before him.

Who was she, and why did she do what she did? Ven eyed the masked figure conversing with the Red Rose as he has now dubbed her.

The masked figure would probably be his best bet at gathering information. Plan for later as Eteri noticed his silence.

At the mention of Archie, Ven smiled. He hasn't seen the old bastard in a bit, but he was glad he was helping Eteri. Archie wasn't one for charity, so for him to do that meant a lot to him.

He'd thank him next time he saw him.

Then Eteri asked the big question about how he's been. This Ven had to think about before answering. "Well, I've been ok I guess. It still feels weird, but nothing I can't deal with. I've also been having weird dreams, and my eyes keep having this throbbing sensation a lot recently."

Ven's eyes widened, then he he corrected himself. "That's not from you. I've been having that since I took that weird job from Archie, the one that left me beat up. Speaking of, my arm is still sore from what happened when we went out the window. You pay for the next round of drinks."

I nodded and turned to my half empty drink. I wasn't too sure I liked Cider, it was too bubbly in my stomach. "Empty feeling is lonely but for Eteri, this is opposite. Feel very...full, even if only half soul." I turned to him with a toothy grin, but it quickly faded when he said things felt weird and that he was having odd dreams.

I quickly pulled my eyes away, ears drooping. I picked up the cider and finished off the drink, coughing and heaving. Tears stringing my eyes. Gosh...this stuff wasn't really all that smooth. I slammed my hands repeatedly on the bar till a very annoyed looking bartender approached me.

"Yes?"

"More! But no this. Something less bubbles." I pushed the glass over to him. "Two please." He stood there, waiting. Oh... OH! Money, he wanted money. I rummaged through my shoulderbag till I Found a few loose gold coins and set them down. He took them up and with a sigh left.

I turned my attention back to Venn. "Eteri have nightmares. Lots. Hears whispers, tells Eteri do bad things. No like. Eteri get you drink." I forced a laugh. I knew he didn't like it when I was sad, or anyone for that matter. I was afraid he'd leave if he caught on.

The bartender sat two glasses down in front of us. "Vodka. Careful luv' it'll burn." And with those words the bartender left again. I stared at the glass, it looked like water?

"Is joke?" I asked as I picked up the glass and downed it all in one gulp. I dropped it, and it shattered against the floor. Holy flying fishes on fire! I WAS ON FIRE! LITERALY ON FIRE!? RIGHT? RIGHT!?

N..No just my throat.

"G-GAhhh!" I waved my arms at my mouth, as though it'd alleviate the feeling. "No like. No like."

Ayaka was yet another who was drawn to the tavern, the only place open in such horrendous weather. She carefully pushed the door open and turned to gently click it closed behind her. She shut the dark red umbrella and shook the excess water off it before discarding it against the wall along with the other dripping jackets and outerwear. Ayaka needn't take off her clothing, she was dry. She was smart enough to bring an umbrella when she saw the ominous clouds. She wore what could have been mistaken as a traditional Akashimian shrine maiden outfit. Long loose fitting red pants and a white shirt that hung off her shoulders, its cuffs and v-neck lined with red ribbon.

Ayaka raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow as her golden eyes glanced over the crowded establishment. Most were sodden. Ayaka wrinkled her nose. Did they not think to bring umbrellas? They all stink of mud..Especially...

Her disapproving gaze fell onto a familiar blue haired feline at the bar who had just messily shot a glass filled with Thaynes only know what. Alcohol no doubt judging by her overly exaggerated reaction. Eteri had always been that way. Ayaka sighed heavily as she passed Eteri and the blue clothed boy next to her. She didn't want to deal with the two lovers at this point in time. Hell, she didn't want to deal with Eteri at the best of times.

Ayaka sat herself neatly on a barstool on the other end of the bar and held up a neatly manicured finger to get the barkeeps attention. "Yes, I would like one Scotch on the rocks." She pulled out a small pouch of coins. "There is a heavy tip for you, if you ensure my glass does not empty." She gave the man a coy grin, leaning against the counter. Honey-blonde tail flicking casually side to side behind her. "Deal?"

"Deal." The man nodded, "You should teach the other 'jin some manners." He added.

Ayaka glanced over at her sister. It was odd, within her dwelled a horrendously monstrous and violent energy, some sort of soul? What on earth would have such a thing, furthermore, why did Eteri have it? Why did she and the man in the blue tailcoat share half a soul? Lovers? That had to be it. No one would be stupid enough to have half their soul ripped out otherwise.

A glass was placed in front of Ayaka, she lifted it toward the barkeep. "To a torrential rain that fattens your pockets on this dreary night." She took a sip and enjoyed the burn as it fell down her throat to settle in her stomach. This would have been perfect. If not for the blue haired elephant in the room.

Sure there were other standouts, some old man flirting with a half naked faun, a couple of parasitic plant creatures, a group of people around a crying girl by the fire... but as usual Ayaka did not want to bother them, if she left them alone surely they'd have the decency to leave her alone.

Ayaka pulled a book out from the folds of her pants, and set it on the bench. Taking another sip of her scotch she began to quietly read.

"Perhaps those folks would be much more well-served under your watch. Most folks don't qualify as the soft glove AND the iron fist, after all." His eyes scanned around to the patrons Philomel pointed out, before returning to her voice. He leaned a bit closer, struggling to gather her words over the buzz of the room.

How precisely does a gentleman answer in regards to a just finished pay-per-screw? Doubt she wants to hear the fine details, or would appreciate a good joke about the sausage down the hallway or the echo chamber...

His eyes were sharply focused as he moved them about the bustling pub, sipping quickly at his sweet, cool drink as he planned the next chess move. Conversation could be a dance, and Philomel knew how to waltz like a queen.

"Every exchange is a joy, even with the flaws we all share." A self deprecating smile as he dragged his hands through the air before his torso, gesturing to his own human frailty. "My company could not be criticized. Fun, lighthearted, and ultimately professional - down to the polite and prompt exit that men like me pay for."

It was on the point, but the wizard estimated Philomel too wise to attempt to dupe. Human duplicity surrounding sex was fairly unique to them; perhaps other beings could appreciate a matter-of-fact perspective. The tougher question now was where to go from here. What did Veritas wish to draw from the faun? They had greeted, he had learned, and here in his refractory period he had the ability to retrain from more primitive desires that would likely lead to outright bedlam. What more was there for him here?

Perhaps inspiration can be borrowed.

"So what now? You're not one of them. You're obviously a warrior, but don't strike me as a mercenary type. What keeps you going? Do you let the winds carry you, or is there a specific change you're trying to impress upon Althanas?"

What? So you kill a farmer's pig and try to cook it on his firewood bundle after tapping a keg of unfinished ale. People around here act like that's some kind of crime. As I milled over the reason for my drunken trudge, my left boot decided to pick a fight with my right boot. The sensation of falling didn't kick in until the view of the mud and the muck became suddenly detailed and personal. I shot out a hand and snatched some wooden railing that may have been constructed some hundred years ago. It shattered like cracked glass and I barely managed to catch myself on the remnants of the support post as my nose dipped into what I hoped was only mud. I didn't care, but the aroma of my unfiltered alcohol ridden breath masked any notes of horse shit that was most likely present.

I staggered to a stand and used the tattered sleeve of my hooded poncho to wipe the crap off my nose. Then, it started to rain. It had threatened to do so all day, but now seemed to be the time. I sighed a cloud of warm breath in the brisk night shook the inebriation around in my skull into a further froth. A glance back to the pillar of black smoke proved that my worn out welcome from earlier was still ablaze. Maybe the guy would catch a break. Didn't kill him, so he's already two for one on the luck scale for today. Me, on the other hand.

I settled my sights on the only glowing establishment in this bleak hellhole of a place. Given the arid location and miserable state of the surrounding village, the sounds of life booming from it forced my brow to arch. I then tilted my head skyward like a bird brained turkey to take several drops of rain straight to the eye socket. The fucked up eye didn't feel much, but the good one stung quite a bit. In my impaired judgement, I just said fuck it and sauntered my way into the tavern.

Damp, muddy, and visually in need of a bath some several days ago, I balanced myself between the archway after nearly kicking the worn cedar off its rusty iron hinges. It settled some of the patrons for a moment as my good eye took account of the blurred faces.

"You," I pointed, but the hand struggled to pin down my target in the spinning room. "The fuck you doin' here?"

Ayaka glanced up at the silver haired man who was drunkedly pointing a finger at her. She sighed and picked up her glass (just after it was topped up again) and shut her book. Leaving it at the counter to mark her place, lest some uncultured swine take her seat. With a swing of her hips and a walk filled with the gait of someone who had a superiority complex Ayaka approached the man.

Now that she was standing a mere foot away from him she could smell him. Her nose wrinkled and her ears twitched. "You stink of a drunkard. What kind of pathetic hovel did you claw your way out of, and why aim your ire at me? I have no fucking idea who you are." She paused to take a sip of her drink. "Nor you me." Another sip. "So kindly.... She reached out and batted his accusatory finger away. "Fuck off."

His hand rose again. "D-do you KNOW who I a-am!?"

Great. It was one of those people. Someone who thought he better than everyone else. Ayaka huffed, he was covered in mud and muck, and who knows what else. If she focused, he had the faint smell of blood upon him, and his soul. Hoo boy. This man done some shady ass shit. It was a miasma of dark chaos, not as much as the redhead in the corner, but still, pretty bad in regards to being a basic human being. He was probably some washed out assassin, or cult leader. Ayaka didn't answer him, she just stared him down, taking another drink from her glass. Silently, she reached out and gave him a small push to test just how well his balance faired.

Tonight was going to be a long one.

Again with that sensation of falling. This time backwards. I meant to scowl in anger but by the time my face formed the expression, I came to notice how littered with cobwebs the banisters were. Does anyone clean that shit? As though an afterthought, my legs, feet, and arms spun me round, swiveled, and put me again, face to face with... Isabelle? Those ears, the tail, that look of "what the hell did you do now?"... But... I thought...?

My furrowed frustrations rose into concentrated confusion. I narrowed my view as if it were to help, but it just made the world blur that much more.

"You," I went to push a finger between the valley of her chest. "I thought you were dead?"

My face softened as either the beer from earlier rose in my stomach, or I felt something other than anger. Either way, my arms outstretched and I fell forward for an embrace.

"I haven't seen you in --"

"Dead"

Dead? Ayaka wasn't dead, she was very much alive. He must have mistaken her for someone else but whoever she was, she was long gone. It was almost sweet, if not utterly pathetic. "Maybe if you washed yourself up, and weren't some pathetic street skulking washed up assassin wannabe. I'd entertain that thought. But your soul, and your body is littered with literal filth."

Ayaka held out her hand, and his forehead clunked against her glass. His hands still found their grubby way to her waist and he gave her a tight squeeze, before trying to draw her in for an embrace. He muttered the word 'Isabelle.'

"Ayaka." She said firmly, standing her ground. "A-YA-KA."

Oh goodness, Hype thought to herself. This... This is a different kind of hug. Not a good hug. A bad hug. The kind of hug that one gives as a silent cry for help.

The briarbane's general eyebrow area scrunched up behind her mask as she processed this information. Rayleigh buried her face into her shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly and fingers digging into her vines. It was a strong hug, to be sure; one fueled by a slew of repressed emotions and trauma?

Who did this to her? Who hurt her so badly that she'd release so much raw emotion in a simple comforting embrace?

Hyperion would find out, and she would give them a very stern talking to.

"There, there," she cooed into Miss Aston's ear as she began rocking back and forth ever-so-slightly. Her Best Friend instincts were kicking into overdrive. "It's going to be okay. You must have a lot on your mind right now. Would you like to talk about it?"

- - - - - - -

Oh hey, free beer.

I've never been one to turn down a round on someone else's coin, but it felt even better when someone else did. Didn't hurt that this place's brew wasn't half bad, either. I'd never really known Red to be much of a drinker, but her loss, really.

However, I had to admit that she was starting to really kill my enjoyment of the evening. For someone who claimed to have no emotions, she had such strong feelings on the matter. And she had started to go on quite the tear about Cain--which was really none of my business to begin with. One of the many things Ulroke must've forgotten to teach her was the art of people watching. Spot someone, make one snide comment about them, and move onto the next. That nerdy little scholar wasn't worth the time she spent having no emotions whatsoever about him, no matter what complaints she had against him.

I had to distract her, and had to distract her now. Otherwise, I'd have to frown and nod at another one of her rants.

Reaching into my robes, I produced a small cardboard box and set it on the table. Thumbing the top, I popped it open and slid out a deck of playing cards.

"Care for a game? Poker?"

Madison pulled out a deck of cards. "Poker?" Scarlet tapped the table in thought, thankfully it was the one cardgame she knew how to play. Thanks to Jake. "Sure. Deal me in."

Madison started to shuffle the cards before a rather loud man interrupted.

"Ulroke?" Scarlet tilted her head. That explained the pang in her chest. Whenever he was around, at least when he was carrying the one 'good piece' of her soul her chest ached. He was completely and utterly wasted. She had never seen him like this before, and was slightly curious as to why he'd put himself in such a futile state. "This is why most of the hand no longer see him as a fit leader." Scarlet stated as she stood from the booth. "One moment, I need to deal with the child."

Scarlet scooched away from the booth and grabbed the back of his collar. Stopping him from sexually assaulting a very unhappy catlady. Lichensith Ulroke. A man who was once feared by all, now a crumbling mess. "You'll get yourself killed. She isn't Isabelle." Scarlet muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and giving his boot a kick. "I feel you're still carrying around that little piece of soul I gave you too. How's that treating you?" She asked.

He replied with a groan. "No, no its her look. Ears and tail and-

"C'mon." Scarlet hefted him up from his stumble and guided him toward the booth so he'd sit with herself and Madison. As he leaned on her for support Scarlet felt the slightest tinge of concern for him. 'Why have you done this to yourself.... do you not care?' The thought was brief, and not enough to rattle her usually stoic demanour. She slumped him into her former seat in the booth, opposite Madison.

"Not just playing cards, but babysitter too." Scarlet said as she slid in next to Madison. "Deal him in too."

If you had to pinpoint any particular moment where the night went from bad to worse, this had to be it.

As I was leafing through the deck, Red went and pulled the worst possible person from the crowd to join us.

He reeked of death and looked far worse. The (former?) master of the Crimson Hands. The silver assassin, the man who damned a country to be infected by one of my plagues for all time. The (co-)slayer of Kyla Orlouge, whose murder sent Sei Orlouge into hiding. And here he now stood, covered in filth, skin pallid and hair matted, eyes glossed over and drunk confusion etched on his face.

His presence didn't inspire fear or anger, as it may have once done. Instead, it only made me feel pity. How the mighty have fallen.

I shot a venomous look at Red as I riffle shuffled the deck. "Just make sure he doesn't throw up on the cards."