[Open] ~The Wayward Soul.~

[Yvonne]

The rippling butterfly effect of a single satchel snatch sure was beautiful to behold.

Yvonne raised an imperious eyebrow and cast a sidelong look in Keeara’s direction, crossing her arms, standing her ground. She offered a wry response to the dragonite and little else for the moment.

“Ye be one cranky dolphin,” she remarked. That crude barrage could only come from the drying throat of a slowly-sobering alcoholic. Of course - the drinks no longer flowed. The barkeep had abandoned their post, gone to fetch the city guard. The ebony-skinned hybrid would have to take their place, brew up a few more drinks or Keeara would never settle down. She couldn’t do that until the demon minded his own business though.

Yvonne followed Henry with unfathomable silver eyes as he walked away from it all, cradling a thirty-something year old fae in his arms as though the thief would fit right in at the orphanage. The bard’s misinterpretation played in their favour and may have convinced other patrons at the restaurant that this was a misunderstanding - a naive child with sticky fingers indeed. Regardless, Fennik silently left the scene of the crime with a get-away almost too good to be true. He didn’t even need to flee!

She did everything she could to keep a straight face while watching her friends go, the minstrel carrying the other like a pampered little prince. The conniving rascal had even convinced her he felt scared. Those trembles looked real! Wow, must have practiced those in a mirror - unless this demon’s power influenced everyone in the room as Henry had inferred. Could Nosdyn really wield fear like a weapon and affect everyone nearby? The half-dwarf had assumed the demon only attempted to manipulate her mind, but if others felt the same terror she’d shaken free of earlier…

Looking around The Slaughtered Lamb the tables and chairs had mostly emptied, some patrons leaving while they had a chance, before things got rough. A couple had even abandoned their meals, cutlery still protruding from a slice of meat and resting upon potatoes. More must have scurried away even before her friends had walked out, when she’d experienced the first wave of panic pierce her awareness.

A loud bang caused more cries of alarm and quickly saw to it that anyone who wasn’t anyone got up and left too. Yvonne thought a gun had gone off, instinctively ducking her head until realization set in. None other than Spark - the victim of banditry itself - had vandalized the floor, making a small crater in the wooden floorboards. That mark wouldn’t come out easily. The owner of this business would not be impressed when they found it.

Sighing, the drow-dwarf shook her head and looked back to Nosdyn. Her eyes narrowed but her tone had quietened, just for his ears.

“I’ll safeguard me friends from any threat, no matter tha mischief they find themselves in. They need protection. I give it. Ye go anywhere near that boy and I’ll be there, stopping ye. That be tha right thing ta do and ta hell with yer consequences,” the half-and-halfling whispered. “A little something for ye ta think on, demon.”

With that she turned on her heel and relaxed her folded arms, walking briskly toward the bar. Now that Fennik wasn’t exactly here, and she didn’t need to be his body barrier, she might have a chance to make that brew for Keeara. The tip of her head didn’t even peep over the countertop as she set to work, the sound of a bottle shaking all that they could hear.

A small hand slapped a saucer down on the counter with a pang, her other hand setting a shot glass upon the saucer filled with a clear alcohol. Yvonne collected a pint glass and poured about a shot or so of brown liquid into it. She lit that on fire - yes, on fire - with her firestarter tool and swirled the flaming liquid around until the glass felt hot. The expert barmaid poured the fiery fluid into the shot glass on the counter, igniting the first, the flame spreading into the saucepan.

The perfect moment for the cavalry to arrive, the manager in tow. The commanding officer of the city guard stormed into the restaurant and assessed the situation. The business owner stood in the doorway, shocked.

“That’s them! That one’s raiding my bar and setting my counter on fire!” the manager shouted.

“What’s the meaning of all this!?” William Blake yelled, before pacing in her direction.

Yvonne ignored them, hovered the empty glass over the fire, catching vapour. She sprinkled some cinnamon - every dash fanning the flames - and then covered one glass with the other to really condense the vapour. Blowing out the embers around the saucepan she grabbed some ice, iced the vapour glass and covered the opening with her palm. Turning it the right way up, slotting a straw in between her fingers, she offered the cocktail to Keeara-- just in time for her to take it as Yvonne was apprehended.

“You’re coming with me, Miss,” Blake stated, unimpressed with her theatrics. “You can spend some time in a cell and think about what you’ve done.” He bent her arm behind her back and pushed her out from behind the counter, leading her across the room.

“You scared away all my customers!” the owner cried. “What were you doing behind-- my floor!”

“Guilty as charged,” Yvonne claimed with a smile. “I’ll repair it myself if ye like.”

“You’ll not come back into my restaurant, you nasty little vermin,” the proprietor sneered. “Get out and stay out!”

Yvonne walked willingly, looking unconcerned. She gave Nosdyn a sly smile as she passed him by and exited the restaurant through the front door, the officer taking her away to the guard barracks and her well earned sleeping quarters. She gave no resistance to the officer of the law. It seemed like the little matriarch had lost all control of the situation, and while not everything had gone to plan, she felt more than content with the resolution.

Henry, safe. Fennik, safe. Spark, safe. Keeara, sipping a Backdraft. Nosdyn contemplating his stance on good and evil. Aye, all in their place.

[Philomel]

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