Temple Festivities

Theatre District, evening.

Winter means that sun falls early in Alexandria, and so, just a few hours after noon, the sun is beginning to dim over the horizons. This suits the Theatre District just fine, as the colorful ribbons wrapped around snow-laden poles and signs are ornamented with enough metallic thread to catch the moonlight and the flicker of the occasional passing torch, and the festivities are planned to wear long into the night.

There's street performers around every corner. Some musicians, some jugglers, some dancers, and so many more in between. Some of the musicians even play a call-and-response at each other even though they are many feet away from each other. And, of course, there's plenty of vendors hawking their trade, plying merchandise of the Angorite tournaments and some of the star athletes performing.

"Pothy, you are getting _one_ sweetbun," Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon says, bundled up in a velvet gown of deep violet and a cloak of black wool, fastened at the neck by a bit of lovely goldsmithing. "Just one."

The cream-colored bird on Cor'lana's shoulder, however, whines, batting his wings in protest like a little boy might stamp on the ground. "One!? I'm going to starve! I'll be like those sad, skinny little chickens that they sell for copper pieces to boil away into broth!" Pothy pouts.

Of course, they come as a pair. Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon is dressed in a near ankle-length leather and fur coat, with a broad brimmed hat on his head. Under this is worn dark wool in black trimmed in violet, a matching outfit to his wife's.

Tel looks at Pothy in amusement. "Really? Because you devoured your portion of the dinner, and the leftovers I might add." He shakes his head, arm-in-arm with Cor'lana. "If only there was a competition for eating, Pothy. You could take top honors, every time."

His eyes sweep the road ahead through the district, out of habit. Glinting in the dimming light, he chuckles. "Speaking of things that should be done more often, this kind of competition seems to have brought out people's festive natures even after Yule. Kind of reassuring if you ask me."

Menel, a swordsman with a shock of pure white hair with a sky blue tunic and overcoat in deference to the cold weather has a pair of swords belted at his hips. One at either side in fact. He wanders around a bit aimlessly, not really looking for anything in particular. He's not well known enough to garner attention from any of the merchants or at least not any more than any other customer wandering by might. Nor does he look like he has a lot of money to spare - which to be fair he doesn't. He eyes one of the food stalls a bit hungrily but thinks about his coin purse and sighs.

"Chicken makes good eating!" A cheerful voice interjects from behind Cor'lana, followed by a dark red head of air popping out of seemingly nowhere. Skyler's in what passes for casual clothes for him: a finely crafted leather doublet over an silky, billowing white shirt and snug boots. He doesn't *look* armed, but his utter lack of fear (or common sense depending on who you ask) certainly keeps him dangerous.

He's also nomming on a sweet bun, bright pale grey-green eyes cheerful... Even if there's a bit of a coolness directed towards Telamon. No surprise, given the rather... dramatic... circumstances of their last encounter while talking to a toymaker.

Eat. Drink. Be merry. It is The Mantra, and Bryn is nothing if not devout. A mug is in her right hand and a handful of sweet baked somethings are in the other. "Sky Guy!" she calls out after mostly swallowing the latest mouthful. Wasting food and drink is sacrilege! She makes her way about, arms lifted to try and avoid bumping into folks and spilling. Or having a random gobber snatch and grab.

The Goblin limps along, leaning on her trident for support. Her robes flutter in the chilly wind, the sea-green adding to the myriad of other colours on display. Peeking out from under her robes is her small, shark-like tail, which sways back and forth as she goes. In her free hand is a large shish kebab, numerous savory treats interspersed with roasted hot peppers. Every so often, she pulls a few pieces off the stick, simply swallowing them whole.

A few people stop to greet her, and she offers them the blessings of Rada, praying for good weather and calm seas in their future travels.

Irshya is soon at Telamon's side, the wee Current offering a little bow to the sorcerer couple. "Fair winds and seas, and may your road be sunny and straight."

Carver takes a lot of smalltime work, and sometimes, embarassing work. She's modeling a local hawker's goods. It's a large, oversized mascot suit of Aelwyn, made of artificer parts and soft velvety red pelt. The emphasis is on virility, strength of character, and the greatest set of reptile pecks that flex indepedent of their brother.

Slapped around the waist is a corded belt, with a gold dangling loincloth that reads: The Crimson Tarragon.

Hit 'em with that pose! An' that pose! Yeah, twist for the classic side chest! One pec pops. The man whose artifice is behind this suit of armor claps with most enthuiasm. The small crowd watching it more... bemused, than anything.

Cor'lana giggles at Telamon's remarks, and she nods at him. "There really is an awful lot of people," she remarks. "It really is remarkable. Most people would just be cozied up in the Fernwood or some other drinking establishment this time of year. It's nice, honestly. Makes the place seem like a little bit more of a community."

She regards Skyler with a wide smile. "Hello again!" she says. "Chicken _is_ quite delicious. Unfortunately, Pothy here gets a little upset if you call him a chicken, which is rather funny, considering he just compared himself to one."

Pothy's feathers all poof up. He looks a bit like a snowball, if a snowball was crossbred with a rather agitated set of wings and blue eyes. "Not a chicken," he mumbles in protest.

"How're you faring today, Skyler? And hello, Irshya!" Cor'lana's simply just ignoring Pothy as she plays social butterfly. Which is how Pothy comes to flap off Cor'lana's shoulder and to roost on... Menel's shoulder.

"Hello. Can you feed me a sweetroll?" Pothy asks sweetly. "You don't even have to pay. I'm a famous bird. I've got _connections_. Just get me to a vendor and they'll give us the goods. Quick! Before Cor'lana notices that I'm gone!" As though he and Cor'lana don't have a telepathic link and that Cor'lana's keenly aware of his location.

As if -Telamon- doesn't keep an eye on Pothy's shenanigans as well. It's not like he's unfamiliar with the familiar's ways. But he offers a wave to Skyler, and offers the man his hand. "I'm sorry about the other day, I didn't mean to give you that glare. I was... not at my best. There was some history there, and the attitude native Stormgarders have towards magicians didn't help."

Once that's done, he gives Irshya a broad smile. "Good tidings to you, Irshya! The kebabs and skewers around here are quite good, aren't they? I admit I've gotten good responses when I make them, but my audience may be a trifle biased."

When Pothy vaults off to harass Menel, Telamon just rolls his eyes. "Told you that you shouldn't have given him speech when we left the house," he teases Cor'lana. "Now he's not limited to just repeating things or mimicry."

Skyler doesn't immediately answer the questions and comments directed at him. Instead, he's staring at the mascot!Aelwyn. "How do you think they get the pectorals to bounce separate from each other? Like the left one goes up while the right one goes down." He squints, staring hard, "The nipples look like someone blowing a raspberry, too. Huh. Hey, Bryn!" He starts swaying left to right, "Is it just me or does Aelwyn's nipples follow you when you move? Like eyes. Are nipples the windows to the breasts or something?"

He shakes his head, and turns his back to the sight. And frowns at Telamon. "I know I'm an idiot, man, but I figured you were smart enough to see what I was doing." He grimaces, "But we can talk about that later. Hello, ma'am. Pothy's safe enough. He's what we call a 'stew bird', and I'm more in the mood for roast."

If there's one thing that Menel doesn't expect it's a magical - read enchanted - talking bird to land on his shoulder. He's fairly certain that he's seen or at least heard of a talking bird before, but he can't remember where from. A white one. Like the one on his shoulder. His blue eyes narrow at the blue eyes on his shoulder. A fiend perhaps? A devil-bird that lures unsuspecting fools into dark alleyways? Or worse. *Fae*.

Cor'lana certainly sounds like a fae name after all.

"Certainly, there's a shop right over here." He moves over toward the sweetroll shop, getting in line quickly. Menel tries not to draw too much attention to himself but the bird is pretty eye-catching. "Do you often ask random strangers to do you favors?" He inquires curiously.

Irshya is fascinated by Pothy, and cackles as the albino Raven attempts to bargain with Menel. She grins toothily at Ravenstongue, a hole in her upper toothline visible in the corner of her grin. "Your bird is certainly a trickster. Tarien must have a giggle every time you let Apotheosis free."

Reminded of her savory-spicy treat by Telamon, the remaining portion is quickly swallowed, perhaps forestalling any hopes of Pothy getting a piece. "You make spicy lamb kebabs?", the Goblin wonders, her stomach gurgling noisily... perhaps in anticipation of more delicious meat-on-a-stick treats.

Then she spots Carwyn. Her eyes widen. She blinks. And begins to guffaw loudly, wrapping her arms around herself as she bends in half, her little tail thrashing about to keep her from teetering to one side, as her trident clangs to the ground.

Carver, or Carwyn, was a bit blind in the suit. This expresses mostly in very cautious wobbly steps that do little to speak of the legend of a heroic dragoon, and the merchant must realize that. How to help... His inspiration comes with a clap, and he speaks, "Of course, he's also known for his great flaming glaive! Which I happen to have right here as a companion piece!" Now there is some scattered applause as an obvious theatre-approved weapon is handed off to the clumsy Red Knight, glowing from within.

Carwyn, officially so, raises the weapon overhead for all to see.

Spins it! It clatters to the floor. The next ten seconds is spent very awkwardly trying to retrieve the weapon before the merchant irritably thrusts it back into their hands.

Cor'lana smiles a little sadly at Skyler. "I won't make excuses for my husband," she says, "but... What moved him was a past tragedy. A friend of ours, now gone into the Gray Halls as a result of great pain and anguish, once called the deplorable man you were both speaking with his father. Indeed, we can talk about it later." Her smile brightens a little. "These are times for joy and celebration instead. Or, more aptly, trying to make sure my familiar's not turned into the stew bird."

At Skyler's talk of moving nipples, however, Cor'lana blinks and observes the Aelwyn-doppelganger, even the part when 'Aelwyn' drops the glaive. "Huh," she says. "So they do. I wonder how they do that?" And then she grins at the swashbuckler. "'Nipples are the windows to the breasts.' You should write a Crimson Pen book with that as the opening line."

Pothy peers long into Menel's eyes. Really, in a way, they are kin. Menel's got white hair. Pothy's got white feathers. Menel's got blue eyes. Pothy's got blue eyes. Menel's got no coin and no food. Pothy's got no coin and no food.

"No. You just look nice and friendly. And also hungry." Pothy taps his little talons on Menel's shoulder. "We can split half of it. I can share. I'm a nice boy. Lana tells me I'm very nice and very sweet." He sounds _immensely_ proud of himself.

Bryn blinks at Skyler. She's been asked a few odd questions at gatherings, but that's a new one. "Uh... dunno. Never stared at 'em that much." She doesn't really now, since the weapn twirling is WAY cooler. At least until the clattering. She studies the Ael-twin. "Think they didn't get 'em quiet right. Looks a li'l tall." Could be just her viewpoint, though. She takes a hefty draught from her mug. Because that's a good way to change a point of view.

"My wife speaks truth," Telamon says, his own expression somber for a moment. "And I will tell you the tale in full, at some later date." A faint glint of mischievousness appears in his eyes. "I'll even spring for dinner, if you're willing to dine with an archmage in his abode. I can warn you about the Crimson Pen, too."

His eyes follow Lana's, and Tel's eyebrow rises as he watches the Aelwyn impersonator. "It's a clever costume. There are limits to what you can do with mundane tools and materials, but it's not bad." He rubs his cheek thoughtfully. Then his mind catches up with the whole nipples remark and he stifles a snicker.

"I make many foods, though Auranar is much better at baking than I am." Tel grins at Irshya. "She makes wonderful peach tarts, for example."

Now Menel isn't sure what to think. Is the bird consorting with fae or not? He'll have to decide before they share food. Sharing food with fae is one sure-fire way to end up on the wrong side of a deal gone wrong. "I'll get you the sweet roll, but I want to meet this Cor'lana before I eat anything." He murmurs. He reaches the front of the line then and waits for the owner of the cart to notice him and hopes that this little white raven is as famous as he thinks he is because Menel would rather not have to pay for a sweet roll for them to split... Even if his stomach would disagree with him on the matter.

The fumbling of the faux-glaive and the awkward attempt at trying to retrieve it has the Goblin in stitches, rolling about on the ground in the snow. Though her antics come to a halt.

"Peach tarts?" Another rumble is heard from her belly, sounding like a stomach that would rival Bryn's in size. Irshya is about to say something of import, but then she sees Carwyn trying to retrieve the safety-glaive, and the artificial pecs moving up and down in unison, and the laughter begins anew, and louder still.

"I can't bloody see," Carwyn complains, that voice coming from that maw a strange combination. "Why'd you make the eyes like bitty drops, is this what wearin' a helmet is like? Who would do this to themselves." The glaive is planted on the ground, stick first, glowing balefully.

"I paid you to stand there and show off my artifice, not.. not.... be a criticalist! What do you know about proper engineering, hmmm?"

"I know I'm about to beat you with your own stupid--" The merchant shushes the irritated Red Knight with one last glare, pointing out nearby kids. "Hey there! Yes, it IS the Red Knight! The suit was made by..." He begans to drone on about assorted artificer hot points, celebrating their renowned mad sciencesty.

Carver has one final muttered complaint as she goes back to 'modeling'. "I don't even know why it has nipples. Aelwyn doesn't even have nipples." About here is when she spots Irysha, giving a nod of recognition before she can catch herself.

The person selling sweetrolls at the end does brisk business. The line churns almost as fast as the people line up. Which means that the man working it is about to open his mouth and recite his script before his eyes bug a little at the white raven on Menel's shoulder. "Are _you_ Pothy?"

"Yes I am!" Pothy says happily, his tail wagging up and down in a sheer corvid-expression of joy. "Can you get me and my friend here a sweetroll?"

The food vendor looks a little awestruck. "Oh, sure! Sure!" he says, retrieving a sweetroll. "You poor thing. You must be so tired of all of those men your mistress seduces."

Cor'lana nearly chokes, biting her lip. Pothy stares at the man for a moment before he says, "What men? You know it's like, almost all corset, right? Listen, buddy, I had to deal with Cor'lana wondering if she was _dying_ because she didn't know that she was head over heels for Telamon. The woman wouldn't know what to do with multiple men even if she had all of them in hand--"

"Okay, that's enough," Cor'lana murmurs, before she looks at Skyler, Irshya, and Telamon in a very apologetic manner. "One moment! I'll be back." Then she comes over to Menel and Pothy. "Hi, hello, I'm so sorry, just here to retrieve my _very noisy_, very silly little bird."

A smallish owl comes flying over a rooftop and lands right on Skyler's shoulder, staring at him with large round eyes. Only made slightly more disconcerting with the fact that Greywing caught dinner on his way over, a mouse dangling from his beak as he stares unblinkingly at the sky pirate.

Then the owl breaks eye contact just long enough to get the mouse inside their mouth and then its back to owlish, unblinking staring. The presence of Grey wing means Jarik is likely not too far behind, probably having asked the owl to find Skyler for him. Sure enough, the half-oruch is strolling down the street at quite a leisurely pace, taking in the sights like the country bumpkin he won't admit he is. The city is still a bit of a shock to his system.

Telamon actually twitches visibly about the same time Cor'lana makes that expression. Clearly they both are picking up on what's going on. "By the gods, Lana, buy him something so that he's too busy stuffing his face to talk." He reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Ni'essa, light my way..." he sighs.

He gives Skyler a wry look. "My life is full of incident, it seems. No regrets though." Tel glances over to where Lana is going over to collect Pothy. He takes note of Menel, his brow furrowing ever so slightly, studying the man. He glances back just in time to see the owl land on Skyler's shoulder, and he blinks. "Friend of yours?"

"No, Greywing, I don't want your mouse." Skyler says apologetically to the owl on his shoulder, assuming the familiar is trying to share. Because sharing is *caring*. His grin goes a bit goofy, though, a mix of good humor that banishes the doldrums brought on by the conversation with Telamon. He reaches up to scritch the owling.

To the others, he blinks, and says, "Um. Dinner? Sure. Can Jarik come?" He is, after all, Skyler's emotional support half-oruch. He jerks his thumb towards the approaching witch-man. "This little cutie's his snitch." He explains, "Like Pothy but without the unlicensed murderous merchandise and back-talk. Ho, Jar! Welcome to the festivities. I tell you I'm going to be wrestling a guy while we're both on fire? Should be hot." He squints towards the fake Aelwyn, "Him. But the real one."

Menel blinks as a small woman with dark curly hair and - lavender - eyes comes barreling out of nowhere to claim the bird on his shoulder. Though the bird is still nominally on his shoulder for the moment. "Oh. Hello." Menel offers. "I take it that you are Cor'lana?" He tries to assess her carefully, but it's hard to do with her looking so harried.

"Your friend here was asking a favor, does he do that often?" Menel doesn't bother to hide the suspicion in his voice, he's not terribly good at hiding his emotions in any case. "He said that I looked friendly and that he wanted to share a snack, but your name has a rather... fae sound to it."

The Goblin has stopped laughing, the noise dying down to a chortle, and then a pained sigh as she picks herself up and dusts herself off, and retrieving her trident along the way. She stares at Carwyn once more, the giggles threating to get out, and she waves at Carver before looking away.

"I can't even..." Then her eyes widen at what Pothy says. Irshya looks at Cor'lana... then Telamon. She snorts loudly, really trying not to laugh.

"I uh have a shrine that needs tending, and some offerings to be collected." She offers the sorcerous couple another bow, before running off, giving a hasty blessing of Rada to the assembled crowd. At some point in the distance, her cackles are heard once more, fading away...

Cor'lana rather pointedly pays the man for his sweetrolls, and she picks up Pothy like he's a hamburger on Menel's shoulder, scooping him up and then putting him on her own before she takes the sweet treats. "As a matter of fact, I am descended from former fae nobility," she says with a smile at Menel, "but Pothy here is just magic. No fae. Nothing but a bottomless pit and half-remembered wisps of knowledge that relate to food."

"Hey," Pothy protests. "You forgot that I am completely and utterly adorable. May I please have my sweetroll?"

"Yes, you may," Cor'lana says with a sigh, holding one up to Pothy for him to much on as she offers the other to Menel. "You do not owe me nor Pothy anything. Pothy just asks everyone for food. He's a little rogue like that."

Catching the conversation back over by her husband, Cor'lana calls over, "We have plenty of room, and we like making new friends!" to Skyler, Telamon, and Jarik. Pothy, meanwhile, is feasting on his successfully-obtained second treat.

It isn't much longer before Carwyn's gig is up, and she disappears behind the booth to remove the suit. When she returns, it's to collect her payment from the merchant. Who has a few complaints about her lack of professy-nal behavior. The dispute between the two is animated with plenty of handtalking, but they eventually split with both side utterly hating their former business partner.

Ah, such genius partnership often ends like this.

Greywing gives a soft, pleased hoot as he is lavished with the praise and attnetion deserved of one of his stature. Headscritches. Jarik approaches closer, zeroing in on the owl and giving him a wry grin and a shake of the head. "Hmm.. dinner?" He asks in the way of someone who suddenly realizes they might actually be hungry. He looks over to the half-sil in conversation with Skyler and nods. "Ah, you are the magic vintner. Nice to see you again." He says with a bit of recollection from their brief interaction and a bottle of moonlight. Bryn is given a much more familiar nod.

Jarik looks at Greywing on Syler's shoulder. "What have I told you about eating city mice? They're probably not good for you. I can get you snacks." Greywing in response just gives a small defiant hoot.

Menel has a naturally tanned complexion, but it manages to turn quite white at the words that Cor'lana utters about her being related to 'former fae nobility'. His blue eyes go wide and his left hand drops self-consciously to the hilt of his sword but doesn't draw it. Instead he looks at the sweet roll that Cor'lana is offering him and takes a small step back away from it like it might be poisoned or something. Absolutely terrified. "N-n I-I'm... I ate earlier! Your bird can have it. I'm sure he'd enjoy it. Please." He sketches an awkward bow without actually lowering his head at all.

"Not tonight. 'Tis too merry a night to hide indoors. But soon enough." Telamon's eyes twinkle. "I'm sure you two have a tale to tell of your own friendship, and what brought you here to Alexandria."

He offers Jarik a bow and a grin. "Aye, a vintner. Among other things. Though I prefer such amusing work to the usual life of adventuring -- fighting, sleeping on hard ground, and dealing with customs." He laughs softly. "I suppose I am unenthused with 'roughing it'."

His brow furrows as he glances over at where Menel is backing away from Lana. "What on Ea is going on there?" He focuses a bit, staring at Lana and Pothy.

"Free food, Jarik. We'll have to take you shopping for proper clothes, though." Skyler says, eyes bright with excitement, "And maybe a top-hat for Greywing." He glances at Jarik, brow furrowing, "Or a dress? I mean, however they want to express themselves."

It sounds like mindless prattle, but there's a pointedness to the swashbuckler's tone that suggests to Jarik at least that it's also offering an excuse for him to bow out if he doesn't want to come.

Cor'lana stares for a long moment at Menel, worry flickering in her violet eyes. "Ahh," she manages after a moment. "I, err... Sorry?" None of her social graces are present in this moment. A hand goes to fidget nervously in her wavy hair. "I really didn't mean to frighten you."

Her eyes dart back in the direction of her husband, as though she's mentally compelling him to come over and smooth over the situation. Pothy, however, just looks up from his sweetroll (finally) and eyes Menel. "It's okay," he says. "I think I have an idea as to why he's scared. But will you get a good meal at some point today?" Pothy's voice is genuinely concerned for Menel's wellbeing, it seems.