Disagreements

AymahAymah Member Posts: 53 ✭✭✭
A friendly-ish conversation and drink turns into crazy (Aymah) stuff.
Featuring @Shachalai @Aisling @Emelle @Coryn @Omei
So much <3 all around, it was super fun.




You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey, and
the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the cherry floating in
its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

You tell Shachalai, "Hello."


The Snow Leopard's Watering Hole (5390) - the City of Esterport (360)
A youthful, pink-haired woman busies herself at the bar. A copper still stands
imposingly behind the bar, emitting alcoholic vapors. You see a sign here
instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.
You see exits leading east (open pine door) and down (closed oak door).


Shachalai tells you, "Hello there, Aymah."

You tell Shachalai, "How are you?"

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey, and
the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the cherry floating in
its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

Your pose is currently set to:
Aymah is leaning heavily against the bar, drinking from a bottle.

Shachalai tells you, "I'm well. I came into stone earlier. I'm deciding what to
do with it."
Shachalai tells you, "How are you?"

You have emoted: Aymah hums softly as she idly drums her fingers along the bar
counter. "Moths-" she whispers softly, "Moths..."

You tell Shachalai, "Oh, I came into a considerable amount of stone myself, hrm..
. and am alright, just enjoying some whiskey."
Shachalai tells you, "One of your whiskeys?"
You tell Shachalai, "Yes."

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey, and
the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the cherry floating in
its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

Shachalai tells you, "Anything I've tried?"
You tell Shachalai, "Uh... have you tried my cherry-infused whiskey?"
Shachalai tells you, "Don't think so."
You tell Shachalai, "Then you haven't tried it."

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey, and
the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the cherry floating in
its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

You have emoted: "Every moth has wings," Aymah slurs in a hushed voice,
"every moth has wings--" Her brow wrinkles, and she exhales into a sigh.

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey, and the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the
cherry floating in its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

Shachalai tells you, "It sounds good."
You tell Shachalai, "Can come try it whenever you like, mhm."
Shachalai tells you, "Okay. Question, before I say yes or no to that."
Shachalai tells you, "Why do you still talk to me?"
You tell Shachalai, "Why not?"
Shachalai tells you, "I don't know. I thought maybe you'd think I was a unicorns or
something."

You have emoted: "Speak," Aymah whispers to a vibrant blue glass bottle with
traces of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey, causing a light tinkling sound as she
taps a single fingernail along its side. "Speak and sing, months away in the
snow--".

You tell Shachalai, "Ah, well, maybe I do, doesn't mean I can't be civil or try
to forgive you, who knows."

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey, and the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the
cherry floating in its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

Shachalai tells you, "You do, but you're not telling."
Shachalai tells you, "I'd like to try the whiskey, though."
You tell Shachalai, "Well, I'm at the bar, will be for some time, I suppose."

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey, and the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the
cherry floating in its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

Shachalai tells you, "The, um. The Burly Chest? The new one?"
You tell Shachalai, "No, my bar. The Snow Leopard's."

You have emoted: "Forget the bar..." Aymah says in a hushed, sing-song voice,
"forget the kegs and the casks-" There is a lengthy pause to the words, while
she hums to some unheard beat, and continues to elicit a light, tinkling sound
from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey.

Shachalai enters from the east, riding a donkey clad in Mhun barding.
Shachalai steps down off of a donkey clad in Mhun barding.
A donkey clad in Mhun barding leaves east, long ears flicking.

Shachalai strides into the bar, expression faintly weary, peering about at the
immediate surroundings with one hand coiled tight about her aetherstaff.

You have emoted: "Drink from the bottles and flasks," Aymah sings softly to
herself, lightly tapping her finger upon the side of a vibrant blue glass bottle
with traces of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey, looking lost in her own doings.
"Forget that she... that she--" There is a pause to the improvised song, and she
begins to hum to an unheard beat.

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey, and the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the
cherry floating in its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

"Has things she must ask?" Shachalai suggests, striding forward to the bar. She
leans against it, her metallic hand dragging against the bartop. "But the words
for the question elude her / A pity that she was a prude, her?" She's grinning,
diamond teeth flashing from beneath her lips.

You have emoted: Aymah continues to distractedly hum for moments longer, the
soft tapping of her fingernail upon the bottle giving off a rhythmical clinking.
"Forget she wa--" She is frozen for some seconds, before straightening to look
at Shachalai. "Say what again?" She queries, looking positively confused.

L shachalai
She is a wise Idreth of Mhun heritage. She is a sleek and fluid presence, her
flesh undeniably metallic and of a bright, brassy hue. She stands about five
feet tall, body resolved into a humanoid shape, though her outline is a touch
fuzzy, wavering very slightly at the edges. Her limbs are strong and muscular,
arms terminating in long, nimble digits. Her waist and her hips are imposing and
thick, forming the powerful core of her frame. She has angular features, so
sharp as to appear carved- a jutting chin and a long, hook nose define her
visage, overlooked by deep-set eyes. The irises are a hue of bright violet,
though both pupil and whites are the same, pale, greyish hue. Thick, dark hair
grows from her scalp, most of it bound back into a long, unruly braid, the rest
sprawling its way across her face and over her ears in curly, black waterfalls.
When she moves, it is with a sound like blades against whetstones - the rasp of
shifting metal.

(displayed clearly upon her neck) : a necklace of the Gatekeeper's eye
(displayed clearly upon her neck) : a necklace of the First Mother's
eye
(displayed on her left arm) : a simple armband of midnight
leather
(gleaming upon her earlobes) : a pair of eye-shaped earrings
(worn upon her chest) : a bright yellow sunflower charm
(wrapped around one wrist) : a length of elemancer's focusing
beads
(covering her torso) : a practical midnight-blue wool
shirt
(adorning her lower half) : a high-waisted plum riding skirt
(worn on her feet) : comfortable, steel-toed boots of
brown leather
(hanging from her shoulders) : a brown explorer's pack
(perched on her forehead) : a pair of diffusal goggles
(branded into the back of her right hand) : a brightly shining spiritmark
(displayed clearly upon her neck) : a beaded, snow leopard necklace


"You were singing," Shachalai offers, tentatively, her lips twisted in an
awkward grimace. "So I was singing. And you were making things up, so, so I,
made... things..." She trails off, slowly, the last words emerging as little
more than a mumble: "...and that's why it made no sense." Her eyes flicker
downward to the bar, then rise to you again. She inhales, bracing herself.
"Hello," she rallies.

You have emoted: Aymah huffs softly, grabbing her bottle by the neck as she
straightens a touch further, looking over Shachalai with a hint of a smile. "I
did enjoy hearing you sing that one time in the Broken Tower," she admits, and
proceeds to shrug. She shifts momentarily, to retrieve a diary bound in blood-
stained snakeskin from her satchel, that she opens upon the bar top, and begins
to scribble on with her quill.

You drink the last drops from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen
cherry-infused whiskey, and the sweetness of cherries lingers in your senses.

"I don't sing much," Shachalai tells you, settling herself onto a chair and
folding her staff across her knees. "It happened that once because I'd been
drinking. ...I don't drink much, either." Her eyes fix into the near distance-
she takes in more of the bar, quiet for a few moments. "What are you drawing?"
she asks, mildly curious.

You have emoted: Aymah pauses a moment to look into the depths of her bottle by
tightly winking an eye, before continuing to write on the diary. "Am writing,"
she says, fleetingly nibbling on the end of a refined storyteller's quill. "Song.
" She pauses, pursing her lips in consideration for many seconds. "I try to sing
more and more, I enjoy it."

"What else have you been doing?" Shachalai asks, quietly. "You know, since
getting back." She finds some sovereigns and slides them across the bartop - a
bottle's passed to her not long after, full to the brim with whiskey. She lifts
it in momentary toast to the bartender, then draws it close, daring a sip.

You have emoted: "Dealing with matters of the Pride," Aymah fleetingly
closes her eyes, and shakes her head. "But it has quieted down, luckily, not as
much drama nowadays." She pauses, looking toward Shachalai once more as she sets
the quill down upon the pages she was filling with notes. "Have been keeping
busy with them events, also," she glances toward the kegs. "Won or placed here
and there-".

You pay 400 gold and refill 10 sips of a vibrant blue glass bottle from a wooden
keg with traces of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey.

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle full of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey,
and the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the cherry
floating in its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

Trying another sip, her face lighting with approval, Shachalai nods- although
she scoffs, at the same time, and levels an accusing finger. "You've been doing
well," she informs you, matter-of-factly. "I was glad to see that Spinesreach
wasn't getting everything."

You have emoted: "They're still way on the top," Aymah shrugs, "The Heartwood is
quiet these days, and people keep to their own--" She raises a hand to draw back
through her hair. "I saw your docent person briefly-" she pauses for a quick sip
from the bottle. "With her child."

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey, and
the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the cherry floating in
its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

Pausing, Archmage Shachalai asks, "Oh." She sets down her bottle, hand still
curled around it, and probes, inquisitively- "Yeah?"

You have emoted: "Yeah," Aymah shrugs again, more pointedly this time. "I
stumbled into the Burly Chest, actually, and I couldn't turn down Miss Rasani's
invitation to go inside just because she was there. Miss Morrog is a fond
acquaintance of mine." She shakes her head, "And her whiskey is good, at least
the one I tried."

"I've had her whiskey," Shachalai offers, by way of agreement. "It's good. I
think yours is better." She sits back on her chair a bit, crooking one knee to
keep her staff from falling from her lap. "We were closer friends, Rasani and I-
before politics happened in Enorian. We differed on the right course of action
for the city."

You have emoted: "Ah, yeah, she seemed a little off-put with matters of Enorian
and change and whatnot a few weeks back," Aymah slowly nods her head, gesturing
vaguely with one hand. "But she seems quite a bit more cheery lately, specially
since she opened the tavern."

Archmage Shachalai smiles and says, "Yeah. She's tough. Takes more than politics
to slow her down for long."

Shachalai sips from a vibrant blue glass bottle full of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey.

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey, and
the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the cherry floating in
its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

You have emoted: Aymah purses her lips, nods once and turns briefly to glance
around the bar. "You should build yourself a garden," she suggests, "maybe on
the rooftop of your home-".

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey, and
the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the cherry floating in
its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

"What would I do with a garden?" Shachalai asks, her smile melting into
skepticism.

Shachalai sips from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey.

You have emoted: "I thought you liked the garden outside your window," Aymah's
brow fleetingly wrinkles. "Could have sworn you spoke of having your own, once."

"So much else to do," Shachalai answers. "Where would I find the time to take
care of it all? I'm not home very much," she adds, stabbing a finger over the
bar, "You know that."

You have emoted: "Am sure you could find someone to take care of it for you,"
Aymah shrugs, "maybe your docent person likes gardening." She adds as an
afterthought, her lips twisting with a hint of a grin. "Or could just hire
someone from around your neighborhood, and simply enjoy your well-tended garden."

You have emoted: Aymah's hand slowly creeps along the bar counter, and she drums
her fingers, once. "Gardens are a guilty pleasure of mine-" She says in a hushed
voice.

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey, and
the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the cherry floating in
its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

Placing her fist beneath her chin, Archmage Shachalai asks, "Maybe she does.
I'll ask her. Why do you like gardens, though?"

Glancing this way and that, you say, "They're beautiful."

After a faint pause, her brow wrinkled, Shachalai simply asks: "Why?"

You have emoted: "Is there truly a way to explain why something is beautiful?"
Aymah queries in return, briefly looking over Shachalai.

You have emoted: Aymah raises a hand to briefly and absentmindedly ruffle the
iridescent mop of hair upon her head. "They're unnatural, contained, controlled
bits of wild, and still they're beautiful to me, I can't help myself."

After a pause, dark curls spilling over her shoulder, Archmage Shachalai says to
you, "I just- I want to understand how you think."

You have emoted: "Am I so... weird or strange to understand?" Aymah's left
eyebrow rises questioningly.

"Everyone is," says Shachalai after a pause. Her hands rise, as if to frame the
air. "I don't understand people, most of the time. They're not well-behaved
magic or machinery."

You have emoted: Aymah's eyes shift to fix upon Shachalai. "Nor are you." She
says flatly.

Bluntly, Archmage Shachalai says to you, "No. I'm not."

You have emoted: Aymah's lips twist with a smirk, and she shoots Shachalai a
quick wink.
You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey, and the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the
cherry floating in its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

It takes a moment, but then Shachalai begins laughing, quietly.

Shachalai sips from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused whiskey.

You have emoted: "So, you'll be having your own kids soon?" Aymah suddenly
queries, leaning her head to the side. "What else was there in that list of
things you wanted to be? Archmage, Herald, have kids--" She frowns as she
attempts to remember. Failing to do so, she resorts to her drink.

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey, and the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the
cherry floating in its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

Her brow furrowing taut, Archmage Shachalai says, "And how would I manage that?
Children? I like women, and I don't have the first idea of how to grow a cock,
even if I wanted to." She snorts, a faint, ruddy flush in her brassy cheeks. "No,
no- Herald, I'm working on now. And children? Aryanne's girl is good enough,
and she likes me. Her name's Marosa. Father ran off on them both..."

You have emoted: Aymah nearly chokes in the sip of whiskey, and loudly clears
her throat. "I suppose she gave you things I couldn't give to you," she says in
a choked, raspy voice. "She a much better catch than I was, huh?" She queries,
once more coughing to clear her airway.

Taking a long, slow drink from the bottle, Shachalai responds, levelly: "She's
more predictable."

Shachalai drinks from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey.

(Congregation): Omei says, "Mm. I smell new blood."
(Congregation): Coryn says, "Aymah, aye."

You have emoted: "Boo-oooring-" Aymah blurts, her voice bearing a drunken hue.
"Seriously, am much more fun I imagine. Always something new and exciting to
come into," she snickers.

(Congregation): You say, "Me? New?"
(Congregation): Omei says, "No."
(Congregation): Omei says, "The Archmage."
(Congregation): Aisling says, "Shachalai."
(Congregation): Shachalai says, "Oh, unicorns."

Shachalai bursts into a fit of giggles.

(Congregation): Coryn says, "Oh! Right, aye. Sorry. Th' drink is strong and
m'mind is weak."
(Congregation): You say, "Got her right here, getting her drunk."
(Congregation): You say, "Even made her sing a bit."

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey, and the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the
cherry floating in its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

(Congregation): Omei says, "How curious it is that your journey took you to Me.
I saw an inkling, fluttering about in that mind of yours."
(Congregation): Shachalai says, "I was tired of fetters. I was tired of being
scared."
(Congregation): Emelle says, "You will need to be scared, yet."

You have emoted: "Yet you're scared of a little unpredictability," Aymah
interjects, peering at Shachalai through squinted eyes.

(Congregation): Coryn says, "Har! Aye, lass."

"I know," Shachalai growls, setting down her bottle and glaring venomously at it.

You drink from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey, and the strong liquor is laced with the pleasant sweetness of the
cherry floating in its depths, somewhat dulling the bite of the whiskey.

(Congregation): Omei says, "Mm. To issue you a warning against such notions is
unfitting - listen to Mine. They have walked the path and caught glimpses of
what lies ahead."

(Congregation): Shachalai says, "Okay. So there's reason to be afraid. There's
no words. There's also no offerings. I'd ask what's left, except I have a
suspicion I might already know."

(Congregation): You say, "Dear Shachalai here thinks I've surely lost my mind,
Nightmare mine. Didn't think I meant it seriously when I wrote to her that I had
walked with my girl during my trip to the North, somewhere in between dreams."

"That wasn't real," Shachalai tells you. "You know for a damn fact it wasn't."

Shachalai drinks from a vibrant blue glass bottle of Aalen cherry-infused
whiskey.

You have emoted: "She's real!" Aymah bursts with wide eyes, smacking the table
with her hand.

(Congregation): Omei says, "A mind is hardly a thing capable of being lost.
Madness is simply a maligned label attached to those who see by those who cannot.
Madness is triumph. It is cutting yourself free of your inhibitions and acting
as your body tells you to."

"In your head!" Shachalai insists- though her tone is pleading, as well as angry.
She sets down her bottle forcefully, staring at you with wide and bewildered
eyes. "She's not real. She's gone. The only place she lives now is in there.
That doesn't make her real."

(Congregation): Omei says, "...You'll find we're all mad here, to a degree,
Archmage. You will join us in this."

(Congregation): Shachalai says, "That's nice for mad people, but what about
everyone else?"

You have emoted: Aymah's hand trembles as it lingers atop the bar counter. She
stares at Shachalai for a time of wrought silence. "Ask the Nightmare," she says
in a daring tone, "Ask her just how real she is!"

(Congregation): Emelle says, "All are mad. The difference is that we know and
understand ours, and they do not."

(Congregation): Shachalai says, "Even if that's the case, embracing madness
doesn't mean that some inhibitions aren't- aren't good. You still need to care
about people. To help them. To defend them. It doesn't mean you don't have
obligations. Sometimes, what your body is telling you is -wrong-."

Shachalai sways to one side, brow knotting with focus.

You have emoted: "Am not wrong!" Aymah bursts, stepping away from the bar with
heavy steps, bottle in hand. "Nightmare!" She calls, glancing upward.
"Nightmare!" She insists, stamping her foot on the ground a few times.

You drink the last drops from a vibrant blue glass bottle with traces of Aalen
cherry-infused whiskey, and the sweetness of cherries lingers in your senses.

(Congregation): Emelle says, "Do you have reason to believe we would disagree?"

(Congregation): Emelle says, "We are not indulgent."

"You are absolutely unicorns insane," Shachalai informs you, her tone almost awed.
She stares at you, pulling her bottle closer, and takes another slow drink.

(Congregation): Shachalai says, "So indulgent is- doing whatever you want, to
hell with everything else?"

(Congregation): Emelle says, "Aye."

You have emoted: "I'm insane because I'm willing to see?!" Aymah storms toward
Shachalai with a raised, menacing finger. "You... you are so squared you could
fit into a box!"

(Congregation): Coryn says, "M'am is rather intent on preventin' indulgence as
well. I've experienced this first hand recently. Reckon it's a lesson I won't
forget."

Shachalai is up on her feet in a flash, lightning crackling about her
aetherstaff. She levels it, eyes narrowing. "You keep away," she warns, tone
dropping low. "And I think you're indulging yourself. She's gone. She's dead,"
she snaps. "And you've been clinging to her for years, just like the corruption.
And I think I know why!" She points in turn, quivering softly: "Lying to
yourself is better than hurting. And hurting is better than feeling nothing."

In sharp, contemptuous conclusion, Archmage Shachalai says, "You're weak."

(Congregation): Omei says, "Indulgence leads a mind to fixation. Fixation leads
to distraction. Distraction leaves sight unclear."

(Congregation): Emelle says, "Mm."

(Congregation): Shachalai says, "Okay. ...I have another question. Do we have
obligations to others? Speaking strictly from, from our point of view."

You have emoted: "I've hurt my fair share!" Aymah bursts, her jaw growing tense.
"And I am done!" She snaps then, her fingers closing about one of Shachalai's
arms, tightly, uncomfortably so. "I burnt in a pyre to rid myself of corruption,
I'm sure you can't imagine how that -hurts-." She nearly hisses, releasing
Shachalai with a light shoving motion of her hand. "Aiyaik is -real-, am not
indulging in any fantasy here, it's just something I -know-," she emphasizes,
pointing to her heart and then her stomach. "Here, deep within... you wouldn't
understand it if you tried a hundred years!"

Stepping back lightly and catching her bottle about the neck, Shachalai merely
listens, staring at you with wide, violet eyes. Eventually, she answers, simply,
quietly, a hint of desperation in her tone: "But- Aymah. You can't... you can't
just know things that way."

You have emoted: "AM NOT CRAZY!" Aymah bursts, staring at Shachalai with eyes
widened to their fullest. "I see!" She takes a step away, turning as she raises
her arms, looking indeed quite out of herself. "And I feel!" She continues,
stepping onto a chair with a light wobbling motion. "I SEE AND I FEEL!"

You yell, "NIGHTMARE!"

Her voice sharp-edged and frosty, Aisling whispers to you, "Aymah?"

"Gatekeeper guard me..." Shachalai whispers, staring at you with a faint, tense
shake of her head. Her hand has risen, unconsciously, to the necklaces about her
neck, fingers curling around the eyes.

Aisling arrives from the east.

You have emoted: "I will prove it to you!" Aymah continues to yap very loudly,
pointing at Shachalai from atop the chair she has chosen as her podium. "I will
prove it to you!"

You shout, "Nightmare!"

Aisling stops at the door, gaze narrowing, "What's going on here?" She asks,
shoulders rising with tension.

Coryn enters, growling, "Oi, keep it down. What's goin' on." Almost in unison
with Aisling.

Emelle arrives from the east.

Turning from you, Shachalai looks to Aisling, Coryn, and Emelle, face taut with
unsettled discomfort. Her hand is closed tight around her aetherstaff. In
silence, lips opening but failing to form words, she simply gestures to you,
standing high upon a chair near the bartop.

You have emoted: Aymah is standing atop a chair, bottle in hand, arms raised,
looking around wild-eyed. "Nightmare!" She calls again toward the ceiling.
"Yours are gathered now!" She climbs further now, placing a foot first upon the
table with an uncertain, drunken sway. "Nightmare!"

"Ah." Coryn flattens his lips in a rather terse expression, "She's drunk."

Emelle stops in the doorway and leans a shoulder against the frame as she
surveys the lot of you. "Good morning," she absently states as her eye is drawn
to you. Dragging herself upright, she steps further into the room. "What are you
doing?" she asks you.

Softly, Archmage Shachalai says, "I think I provoked her."

"Is jus' the boss bein' the boss-" a young, pink-haired shopkeeper interjects,
idly drying a glass with a dirty-looking rag.

Aisling rolls her eyes, stepping forward and reaching as to tug you down into
her hold by her shirt. "The Nightmare has matters to attend to, other than your
drunken shouting." She snarls, "Behave, Ranger."

Shachalai has shrunken in on herself, surveying the goings on with wide eyes and
a grip drawn tight around her aetherstaff. Lightning crackles near its top, and
she stares- between you, Aisling, and Emelle, with a brief glance to Coryn, but
interjects no further.

You have emoted: "Am calling the Nightmare!" Aymah turns at the sound of
Emelle's voice. "So this damned, squared Shachalai," she points an accusatory
finger at the woman in question, "Will cease telling me my daughter is dead!"
She bursts, her tone rising. "NIGHTMARE!"

"Mother's got quite a bit t' tend t', Aymah, as Aisling said." Coryn reiterates,
stepping forwards by Aisling in preparation to bring you down as well.

Aisling glances over her shoulder, to Shachalai, before her attention returns to
the drunk woman. "Aymah, calm down and get down from there." She insists, tone
rising, "This is ridiculous."

"Godspit and unicorns," Emelle mutters. She watches you carefully, but doesn't move
any closer, instead allowing Coryn and Aisling to handle the drunken woman.
"Listen to them," she orders, her tone uncharacteristically raised. "Or you will
have greater troubles than this."

Emelle sways slowly where she stands, her breathing becoming gradually quicker
and laborious. She finally shakes her head and pants a few times.

Shachalai's hand closes over the top of her aetherstaff - with a sharp crackle,
the lightning is doused. She remains silent, otherwise.

You have emoted: "Shachalai thinks I'm crazy because my daughter was born of
dreams!" Aymah continues in the same loud, agitated voice. Not very far from the
bar counter, she makes a risky leap toward it, landing with a triumphant "Ha!"
There, she kicks a bottle aside, behind the counter, before straightening. "This
is my damned bar, and I will scream and kick and shout however much I unicorns
want!" She threatens, stomping from one end of the bar to the other. "I SEE, and
I FEEL-" She points accusingly at Shachalai once more. "And she won't have it!"

"Neither o' us will be gentle if ya don't come down." Coryn says, nodding
towards Aisling. "It's all right, Shachalai didn't mean anythin' by what she
said." the knight reassures.

Aisling follows the movement, looking more annoyed than properly concerned as of
yet, the Sentinel simply glares up at you, "The moment you start shouting for
the Nightmare to come down at your whim, it becomes our issue." She says, "Stop
this, aye? There's no need."

Emelle squeezes her eye shut in a wince, and it takes a moment for her to
recover herself. "Mother has been known to destroy taverns," she wryly remarks
in your direction. "It will not matter if it is your place or not, if She
believes you have been disrespectful." And with that, she turns her back and
makes for the door.


Coryn smiles up towards you, "How about this, come down and I'll tell you more
o' why I became one o' Hers. Get yer mind offa it."

Sir Coryn Volsteig, the Shepherd says to you, "And you c'n tell me about your
daughter."

You have emoted: "Shall I sing, then?" Aymah pauses on her tracks, staring
implacably at Aisling. "Moths they dance away!" She begins in singsong, "Away
from feelings still-- can't bear the sight, no!" She skips now to the opposite
end of the bar. "I was there!" She laughs now, "I was there when She destroyed
that tavern!" She pauses, squinting her eyes to watch over the group.

Emelle sways slowly where she stands, her breathing becoming gradually quicker
and laborious. She finally shakes her head and pants a few times.

Boot buckles rattle and clink as Coryn steps up onto the stool and then the bar,
walking towards you carefully. "This is a beautiful tavern, Aymah. Come on down,
please. Pit, don't even need t' come down, just sit down with me here." The
knight motions to the countertop and sits.
Coryn sits down.

Shachalai holds her peace, leaning upon her aetherstaff. She avoids your gaze,
staring at the ground instead.

Aisling sighs softly, stepping back. "You've been warned, Aymah. You're a Ranger,
keep your head." She says, shaking her head in disappointment as she turns to
walk, her attention shifting to Shachalai, ".. Perhaps you should come with me."

Emelle's shoulders sink as she ducks back out into the street.
Emelle leaves to the east.

You have emoted: "You're so cute, little darling!" Aymah says with a bit of a
squeal, tilting her head as she leans down, peering over Coryn. "You're so cute,
but you moved your chair away from me!"

Shachalai nods her head at Aisling.
Aisling leaves to the east, followed by Shachalai.

"Thank you." Coryn smiles, patting the countertop once again. "Just sit next t'
me, I won't move away again."

You have emoted: Without grace or ceremony, Aymah plants herself down, scooting
rather uncomfortably close to Coryn's side. "Are you sure about that?" She
queries, turning her head to the side, approaching in such an invasive manner,
that her nose might come into contact with his shoulder.

Coryn chuckles, the sound rumbling throughout his chest and echoing in the
rather empty tavern. "I'm sure" he says, wrapping an arm about your shoulders.
"Where do you want me t' start?"

You have emoted: "All of it!" Aymah bursts, nestling herself against Coryn's
side like one might to a close friend or otherwise. She busies herself finding a
cigarette, looking rather oblivious. "Tell me all!"

"Har! All right. Well. Our first meetin' was when I was speakin' t' my Knight
Advisor-- A mentor o' sorts -- and at this time I was between forms. I was a
Tekal, a tall suit o' armour on fire. The most vicious and the hottest o' 'em
all, I could reckon." Coryn squeezes your shoulder lightly, "And then She came.
She came t' me 'n' saw through me. I said I wanted t' just be a shield fer
Enorian, t' only protect. Mother thought o' me more than that. She asked for us
t' attack! T' strike first. I assured Her that protectin' can come from
attackin'." The knight smiles, nodding, "She agreed, however, She felt I wasn't
th' kind fer that. So She showed me my past. The time in th' pits o' th' Nazedha
empire. She showed me bloodshed 'n' joy. Every face. Every cry." His tone grows
solemn, almost dark. "I savoured it. Then it vanished. She knew I had potential
and asked fer me t' seek Her out if I wanted t' explore that potential."

You have emoted: Aymah turns her head to look at Coryn, her mouth hanging
slightly open as she listens and nods along, at some points seeming as if she
might interject, but desisting. Suddenly, her hand reaches to squeeze Coryn's
face, fingers stretching upon his cheeks. "You look like you could be hot!" She
bursts with enthusiasm, "You know what I was like when I was a Tekal-- I was
alabaster, head to toe--" She pauses, her gaze drifting away from the Idreth man,
although she keeps her hand, if more lightly, upon his face. "Then when the
alabaster broke, I created things-- many things, with that alabaster- my gem, my
haven," she finally releases Coryn's face, only to enumerate in her fingers.
"And I think Aiyaik might have come from that alabaster too... it is a powerful
thing, it can create, I think!" She exhales, as if she'd just performed some
physically-straining move.

Coryn winces slightly at the touch, though expresses a kind smile upon his lips.
"Sounds like she is as beautiful as her mother then. A cut from the same gem."
The idreth pauses for a moment, looking down towards the tavern floor, "Would
you like t' know how I got my tattoo? It's a rather good story."

L coryn
He is an athletic Idreth of Human heritage, moderately tall at six feet and a
few inches, give or take. Lean and lithe, this young lad is teeming with pent up
energy. Perhaps through exposure to sunlight or it just being his natural colour,
this Idreth's unblemished skin is a shade of dark oak. On his head: unkempt and
long, cream-coloured hair is bundled up and tied back haphazardly with a scant
few strands hanging here and there. The features of his face are quite lupine
and angular with slightly sunken cheeks and jawline like to cut diamond. His
eyes are an icy-blue with odd flecks of copper and gold floating about the
irises. Though his look is innocent enough, the eyes seem to have a feral
savagery that contrasts this. The only hint towards this lad being an Idreth
rather than a simple Human is the two-inch, bronze-like, pointed protrusions at
the corners of his forehead. These jut out slightly backwards and are as jagged
and uneven as small mountains. He walks with the blessing of Omei.

(wound about their waist) : a knotted, crimson silk belt
(branded with a sword's silhouette) : a belt-hung leather pouch
(worn on the right lapel) : a Knight's flame-wreathed insignia
(displayed on the right arm) : the armband of Virtues
(tucked into his boots) : a pair of simple white trousers
(draped from the left shoulder) : a Knight's draping white cloak
(worn open and unbuttoned) : a double-breasted ivory wool
military coat
(displayed on the left arm) : a simple armband of midnight
leather
(under their right wrist) : a black-inked tattoo of a feral
eye
(hanging from a belt) : a nightmarish length of prayer
beads
(fitted and secured) : a soldier's durable leather gloves
(on an iron chain worn around the neck) : an ominous ring of iron thorns
(polished to a mirror sheen) : polished military boots with
silver details
(well tailored) : a clean cut ivory shirt with a
starched collar

You have emoted: Aymah's expression appears to brighten with Coryn's words, but
at the mention of the tattoo, her brow wrinkles. She leans inches away, against
the arm that has been placed around her shoulders, looking over the Idreth man
in search of the marking in question. She raises her hand to tug at the collar
of Coryn's shirt, she lifts a flap of the coat and even tugs at one of the
armbands. "What tattoo?" She finally yields.

Coryn smiles, removing his arm from about your shoulders. "This one" the man
points out an eye almost hidden within the cuff of his coat and shirt. He pulls
the cuff of both back to reveal an inky tattoo of a feral eye.

You have emoted: Aymah takes Coryn's hand within her own, tugging it closer to
examine the tattoo. "Alright," she nods firmly, "tell me about it-".

"Well. Ever get so tired that ya just pass out where ever you were standin'?"
Coryn doesn't wait for a reply, "Well, I had passed out somewhere in m' office
and was spirited away t' some place unseen." A vicious grin turns up onto his
lips, "And at this place were hundreds of bandits. Troll bandits and a girl.
Rather young, no older than eleven, methinks." The knight juts out his free hand
as if wielding a heavy weapon, "She was there. She brought me there. T' test my
might. I had five minutes t' smash through these bandits and save the girl." He
swings a few times, imitating the motion one would make with a large warhammer,
though with just one hand. "Though I slaughtered many 'n' more, it was still not
enough. My arms grew weak, my brow was damp with sweat, and my will was fading.
But I kept going, swinging through many with my hammer-- until one cut the
girl's throat." He growls, ripping his hand from your grasp and clamping down
upon your right shoulder. "I had failed. I was too weak, I was too indulgent in
th' act o' killin' t' really save th' girl. I was thrown away from the hidden
place and t' 'nother. She berated me. Cursed me. I felt no recourse than t'
challenge HER but I couldn't bring myself t' that. I dropped my hammer, dropped
to my knees, and begged for another try. 'Let me finish', I said. She brought me
back and oh did I destroy each and every one o' 'em." His vice grip becomes
tighter, harder. "I proved t' Her that I could conquer, that I could bring -FEAR-
to Her enemies and mine." Turning his head to fully face you, he says, "She
then took my hand 'n' carved this symbol int' my wrist. Her's." The knight
pauses, his vicious grin returning to a kindly smile and his grip relaxing at
your shoulder.

You have emoted: Once more, Aymah listens to Coryn's retelling with an awed look,
silent and slightly agape. She startles when the hand is placed upon her
shoulder, her mouth opening further, perhaps for a protest that doesn't rise. At
last, her expression of admiration turns into action and, grabbing the Idreth
man with force by lapels and collars and haphazard folds of fabric, she presses
an impulsive kiss on his lips.

Emelle has burst back to life after falling to a massive rojalli matriarch.
You divine the location of this death as Within a foul den in Yuzurai village.

Coryn reflexively shoots a hand to your throat, grasping tightly and pushing
away, "Don't." the knight growls, "Do not ever." he reiterates, squeezing. He
lets go, a worried look upon his face and his eyes shifting about the tavern.
"Sorry, I'm sorry!" he barely whispers, pulling you close again into a light hug.
"Just hold in your excessive wants, drink or no. Please. I'm here t' council
you through t' becoming one o' Hers. Not t' lay with you." he whispers still.

You have emoted: Her eyes wide, frightened, Aymah withdraws, awkwardly feeling
at her neck with one hand. "I--I-" She stutters, shaking her head. "Am sorry!"
She bursts, "I just-- sorry!" There is a lengthy, wrought silence, her breathing
erratic, and just as suddenly as she lurched before, she wildly swats Coryn away
to slip off the counter, storming a few paces away. She brings a hand to slide
heavy down her face, and exhales.

Coryn takes the hit, his head turning away. "I deserve many more o' those." he
chuckles, hopping down from the bar. "Well, then. Mission accomplished, down off
th' bar 'n' tavern in one piece." The knight smiles, as if absolutely nothing had
happened. "This is what happens, Aymah. Indulgence is something that will pick
you up, embrace you, then eat you whole 'n' spit you out worse fer wear."

You have emoted: Aymah turns fully to regard Coryn, looking rather ruffled. She
blows shakily through her nose, like a wild animal might. "You can go now," she
says in a hushed voice, almost a whisper.

Coryn inclines his head and turns on heel. At the door, he says, "Thank you for
allowing me t' retell that. I've not told anyone else." He leaves.

You have emoted: "What are you staring at!" Aymah quips at a young, pink-haired
shopkeeper. "Back to work!"

CorynTragerEmelle

Comments

  • CorynCoryn Spokane, WaMember Posts: 69 ✭✭✭
    I'd use the LOL and Like buttons, but I'm just gonna do this.


    HAR!


    Also, thanks for the interesting RP. Had fun with that!
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