Spirits and Wine

Log Info

• Title: Spirits and Wine
• Emitter: Slixvah
• Characters: Slixvah, Aelwyn
• Place: The TarRaCe
• Time: August 14th, 2022
• Summary: It's dinner night for Slixvah and Aelwyn finally. And instead of it being a fun time to start, it gets heated, back and forth jabs at character and motives, venting frustrations from before. Though, their card game of knives gets put away, eventually petering out to actually enjoy themselves. Slix ends the dinner with a song.

The TarRaCe, Evening

Finally. The job had been done. Which means that a dinner could be had that two folks have been dancing around about. However, the pouring rain outside the establishment might have been a mood setter, as things of late has been rather up in the air.

Upon the top floor that oversees the main establishment is the private seating for reservations. A winged egalrin, covered in a rainbow of ribbons and a singular purple silk robe tied closed, carefully makes her way up the stairs, a bottle of wine under an arm as she looks about for the Dragoon.

It was not that difficult to find a glaive wielding, red ribboned and quite ruddy-scaled sith-makar in the more quiet part of the TarRaCe. The polished sharp blade of the glaive by itself was a strong sign - here be Dragoons; or a sith-makar claiming to be one, regardless. Leaning against the wall behind a table set for two, he did carry that uncomfortable, out of place look on him - but when the egalrin, all of that slides away from him.

"Ribbon," Aelwyn smoothly rumbles as he slides onto a stand and with practised ease, bowing his head. Stepping forward, he slides out the chair for her. "Her spot." His tail thumps the seat; the waitering gig was still a work in progress.

Slixvah perks up, her striding forward as her namesake trails behind her. Her visage softens, "Ah, heya Cutie," she intones. Before taking the chair, she rests a hand on his arm for a moment, then takes her seat. "Thanks, hon."

She holds up a corked bottle, swishes it a bit then places it on the table. "I uh, brought some wine. Nothin' fancy, red."

A beat passes, and she cuts through the air. "Sorry about bein' a right dick the other day," she apologizes. "'twas a bit frustrating and I shouldn've lost m'cool."

Aelwyn holds the chair out for her, before he looks towards the bottle. Neatly sliding it away, he gives it a glance over. "Hmmh." He says, thoughtfully. Standing there right next to her, she can see the strap of a dark cloth wrapped around his bicep. Yes, that was once a suit tie. Probably. Letting her apology hang in the air, he leans past her to slide over a glass. With his thumb claw easily moving up to neatly unseat the cork, he quite skilfully pours her a glass.

"Yes, it's red." Aelwyn finally adds with a flash of teeth. Done with a flick of his wrist, the draconian steps over his seat and begins pouring a glass for himself. "This one supposes it was a frustrating night for everyone." He answers her, moving to take a seat by his chair. "Though Ribbon surprised him."

Slixvah can't help but quietly giggle at the sight of the once-tie. She folds her hands in her lap, waiting for the glass before taking it in her hand and giving him a thankful nod along with a raise of the cup. A sip.

"Yeah?" she hums, raising a feathered brow as she crosses a leg over the other. "How so?" she inquires, curious.

Aelwyn takes the wine glass in his hand and raises it - and then promptly remembers his lips didn't quite work around a wine glass. Rumbling, he instead slides his tongue around the rim of the glass and lets bit of the wine seep out onto it, teeth gnawing the smooth surface. "Hmmh." It tasted like wine to him. He fears one of these days he will have to know the difference. Taking a more blunt approach, he knocks back quite a mouthful of it, reaching up with his hand to wipe off the splatters.

"She usually does not let her feathers down like that." The Dragoon says, leaning back on his chair. "Almost as if she was ready to devour me." His tail flicks behind him, while stares at her evenly with his orange slit pupils."

Again, a little amusment of the softskin apparatuses being used for those that it doesn't really work with. Slix was tipping her drink in through the corner of her beak slowly, and much more couthly that her scaled friend.

"I had a lot on my mind, hon," she hums, meeting his gaze almost challengingly. "Like, 'did Aelwyn scout this place out beforehand?' as well as incorrectly assuming I wasn't getting paid despite me doin' it by the book."

It was her turn to pound the wine back, her making a shuddering sound as it hits her stomach all at once before she leans forward, refilling both their glasses. "I ain't always sunshine and rainbows, sugar."

Aelwyn's quills bristle visibly at her veiled accusations - the draconian soon rolling his shoulders in response. His fingers slide the glass closer towards the bottle with the refills - but then he gently grasps the bottom of the bottle she was holding. "This one did not come for her sugar and rainbows, Ribbon, and why would I, when there's more to her than a quirk of the skies?" The Dragoon rumbles, lowly. Yet he keeps his gaze upon her; and it wasn't nearly as friendly as the wine that was ready to heat up their respective bellies.

Claws slowly move towards to grasp her wrist. Tightly. "But this one thinks she considers him low enough to leave her without pay." And that stare of his was just cold.

Where quills bristle, feathers smooth down and press flat. There's that gaze again, calculating. Warm. Yet... appraising. Her hand and wrist being taken stymies her thoughts, her glancing down all but briefly before returning the gesture and gripping his own wrist.

It's a few beats of the heart of the accusation before she opens her beak. "That is a false assumption, sugar," she tuts, squeezing his wrist. "You don't play around with pay. Hence why the first thing out of my beak was an apology after my frustrations simmered down."

Her head turns slightly, a single sky blue eye affixed on him. "Your words are honied and sweet. Yet your actions, however, I've noticed, are anything but," she elaborates dryly. "Calm your fire, Cutie. Else reality is gonna fan it out."

The sith-makar doesn't react when his wrist gets grabbed - his eyes still carried a coldness that didn't quite match his fiery visage. It is her other words, that slowly make a little bit of that fire return to them. "Hmmh." He responds, slowly sliding his hand down along her wrist. "Reality may try, but only fire shall respond."

A slowly spreading, toothy grin splits his cheeks apart, and he tilts his head. With his hand sliding around, he lightly raises her fingers between them. "Hot scales and honey do not mix well, this one has noticed. Should I leave the wine and speak in that spirit they serve in the Ox?" He rumbles, tail swaying slowly behind him, coiling around the back of his chair. "It has a far more," He clicks his teeth and flicks his tongue out, "Direct and bodily taste."

Slix lays her arm there, letting the actions unfold on their own accord as his hand slides about. She's still appraising. Still... watching. Waiting. For... something.

She makes a clicking sound in her throat, picking up her glass after making sure hers and his were topped off as she takes another sip. "Spirit served in the Ox is brash, foul, and leaves a bad taste in one's mouth."

She lulls her head over towards him finally, directly. "How about I be blunt like a dry red wine, yeah?" she starts. "You're fun. You clearly have fun. But I cannot help but notice, Aelwyn."

She leans forward, propping her head up on the back of her hand as her half drunk glass swirls around lazily. "... you're incredibly selfish," she bluntly states, gauging his reaction.

The ever so proud Dragoon had been so lost in his own dance; that he had forgotten to watch for the skies. Looking at her after she speaks those words, he rumbles out. "Hmmh, this one sometimes feels the same about the wine they call expensive." He lowers her hand back down, easing it back down before retreating his touch. "A troupe of a one man, Ribbon. What else would she have me be?" He asks from her, claws tapping away at the table's surface. "What I ask, is what I give, and what I am given, I will return."

Having lost the taste for the wine, he moves his glass out of the way; onto the nearby table. "A fair barter. Yet this one suspects she made the observation for a reason."

Her hand is gently released, and it retreats to cup around her glass with both now. Slix has drifted to the side; her other elbow propping her up. Watching his glass move to a different table, then up to his ribbons, down back to him. "A troupe of one man should harbor many talents, yet all you do is dance."

The egalrin slams back her wine once more, thuds it against the table, and shoves it out of the way. "I'll be straight with'cha," she finally says, getting tired of dancing around. "Watchin' ya practice writing told me a lot about'cha. I don't care that ya ain't good at it. But the lack of ownin' up to ya faults rubbed me the wrong way."

Two fingers tap on the table. "Secondly, just a bit ago, you actin' like that when ya slighted? Your fire get ya hot headed too? That's a red flag tellin' me you need ta clean up your act, mister one man troupe, 'cause whatever you dancin' ain't workin'."

It's all said with the cadence and factualness of one having all the cards in their hand. Calm. Collected. Lack of venom. Perhaps a bit of a wariness.

There's a quiet, slow inhale of breath as the egalrin prepares herself - and then launches herself onto him, card by card. His orange eyes keep returning their gaze on her - but unlike before, there was very little of that sudden coldness in his face; or even of that fire she was speaking of She may have been laying down all the cards, but instead of looking down at them, he leans forward and looks at her. "Yes, all I do is dance." He tells her with a low and rumbling, but equally collected voice. "Not read or write like Spellreader, not skulk and hide like the Shade, or hold the blade like Silver," He rumbles.

His two claws tap straight next to Slixvah's hand. "This one could have told Spellreader no. This one could have let Ribbon slip in blind. This one could hide behind when others do the fighting, because all this one is, is a dancer."

There's a pause, and then he tilts his head, and he slowly exhales, sliding his hand over his snout. "Face is all this one has." He rumbles he slides his claws across the scales, dragging the sharp fingertips across every crevice. "Face and a dance."

Slix put a few of her cards down. Not all of them, of course, she's a smart bird. Whatever edge those cards held were deliberate and careful. Surgical. And she reserves them so she didn't completely eviscerate him.

She listens. Though, the last bit of words makes a feathered brow quirk upwards. Surprise. "Huh. Color me impressed. You have the stones to admit it, and sure as heck makes ya far less shallow. Is that why you're so wrapped up with gold? Is that proof of your worth?"

She folds her hands over one another on the table. "Don't take this the wrong way, Flutter. This is good. I'm glad ya said this. 'cause it tells me ya got empathy. And I was 'fraid ya weren't gonna have any," she intones, expression softening.

"Gold?" Aelwyn asks, and then lets out an impatient 'hmmh'. "It is unfortunate Ribbon thinks so lowly of me." He throws back at her, rumbling as he leans back on his chair. His fingers tap away at the wooden surface once, and twice, and then finally they snap shut. "The way I see the world is different, Ribbon. Not hidden under games."

Someone appears from the stairs towarsd their table. Detects the mood of the discussion, and quietly backs away. Maybe in a bit, if there are any survivors, the waiter decides.

"Her words may sound gentle, Ribbon, but they feel like blades, trying to gauge my price." The sith-makar lets out another hmmh, rolling his shoulders, quills alike. "So here is the offer. She stays; and the wine shall be the arbiter of worth. Or," He gestures at the rest of the TarRaCae, "She can make a posting at the Adventurer's."

A little breath falls out of her. "Aelwyn, honey," she shakes her head. "I'm throwing things out to see what rings true. If I thought lowly of you, I would not be sitting here, havin' this discussion."

She glances back to see who was coming up, but she returns to the makari's sharp observation and offer. Her brows raise slowly. "I never intended for my words to be gentle. I merely say what you need ta hear."

She raises her beak, squinting at the offer. "... quit this dancing. Your theatrics. Your ultimatum. You speak with me like I'm a client or a side piece. You speak of not hiding under games, yet here you are bargaining like it is one."

Slixvah Unmesi leans forward, challenging, half out of her chair but a ribbon-like feather shoves it further under the table. She's here for this, and she is not backing down. "I wanted dinner with you because I want to know what drives you, Aelwyn," she elucidates, firm, thudding a digit against the table with each beat. Striding forward, unwavering like a paladin with a cause. "If I didn't give a damn, I would have shagged you sooner, and dropped you aside like a wet piece of paper. But I'm not. I'm gonna sit here, and have a hard fuckin' discussion with you. Because you need it bad before someone breaks your oh so precious Face. Because I give a shit about the people I run across."

Her eyes squint, appraising once more. "How do you see the world, Dragoon Aelwyn," she requests. Listening carefully to every syllable, mannerism, and aura that the dancer would exude.

What web did the Dragoon fall into?

A little breath falls out of her. "Aelwyn, honey," she shakes her head. "I'm throwing things out to see what rings true. If I thought lowly of you, I would not be sitting here, havin' this discussion." She glances back to see who was coming up, but she returns to the makari's sharp observation and offer. Her brows raise slowly. "I never intended for my words to be gentle. I merely say what you need ta hear."

She raises her beak, squinting at the offer. "... quit this dancing. Your theatrics. Your ultimatum. You speak with me like I'm a client or a side piece. You don't hide under games, yet here you are bargaining like it is one."

Slixvah Unmesi leans forward, challenging, half out of her chair but a ribbon-like feather shoves it further under the table. She's here for this, and she is not backing down. "I wanted dinner with you because I want to know what drives you, Aelwyn," she elucidates, firm, thudding a digit against the table with each beat. Striding forward, unwavering like a paladin with a cause. "If I didn't give a damn, I would have shagged you sooner, and dropped you aside like a wet piece of paper. But I'm not. I'm gonna sit here, and have a hard fuckin' discussion with you. You need it bad before someone breaks your oh so precious Face. Because I give a shit about the people I run across."

Her eyes squint, appraising once more. "How /do/ you see the world, Dragoon Aelwyn," she requests. Listening carefully to every syllable, mannerism, and aura that the dancer would exude.

What web did the Dragoon fall into?

"Yet she treats this one as if they were a broken toy. " The Dragoon rumbles right back at her, leaning forward onto the table. Yes, he was not afraid of her, and he had no fear of looking her eye in the eye. "What gives you the right to try and fix me, /Slixvah/? " He growls from under his sibilant breath, putting plenty of weight on her name. "What do /you/ know about what I need to hear?"

Letting an audible 'tch' - almost as if he were spitting the clicking sound. "How do I see the world? Hmmh, what gives her the right to know?" He gestures at the rest of the tavern. "This one is not afraid of discussing this." His tail slams down onto the floor, slipping off his chair. His lips shy away from his teeth. "But if she walks up with her demands and give nothing in return - there will be nothing that she will be given."

His flattened snout hovers few inches away from her beak.

"Fix you?" Slix echoes, blinking before shaking her head. "No. My goal isn't to fix. There's nothin' /to/ fix. Ya ain't broke. My goal is ta understand. You are not a toy. Or a plaything. No one is," she intones, remaining leaned forward.

The unorthodox mage watches. Listens. Taking in the agitation. Her crown feathers slowly pop up, which she reaches up to smooth them back. "I have no right to know," she admits openly. "Is this how you see it? An exchange? Fine. I'll bite."

The egalrin doesn't pull back. Instead, she places a card down. "I'm worried about you."

Her pressure on the core of his being relents. Her visage softens. "You live each day as its your last, I feel. And it worries me. You want something in return? I offer this: a friend to help stay your course."

"And now who is dancing?" The Dragoon rumbles right back at her. "First this one was selfish; prideful and unable to reason. Then as if he were in need of talking down, something to correct. Now she is afraid this one attempts to live the life he chose?" Nope, not at all impressed by the suit of her card. "Her dance has odd steps."

His shoulders roll and his mane of quills settle back down. "If she were worried, she could have said so. Not challenge the color of this one's scales. She thinks she is the one first one to threaten with a peeling of scales?" He roughly grunts. "Ribbon, we've not even drunk a bottle of wine together yet; this one has no misgivings about the risks they take, or the heights they chase."

There's a pause, and then glances towards her wings. "Not all of us were born to fly, but damned if that will stop them."

Slix's brow quirks. "I... really don't know how you managed to be so totally right yet wrong at the same time," she mentions, leaning to the side to prop her head up on a hand. "You are selfish. I never walked that dance back. But you're placing a lot of weight onto my observations."

More watching. Then, a chuff, she leans back into her chair. Losing the card game. "I admit, I should have lead with that," she flare a hand out, grabbing her empty glass of wine. "Th' thing is, I didn' know if anyone ever sat your rear down for a reality check."

She follow his gaze to her wings, and they flutter a bit behind her. "I mean not to keep you grounded. I'm just making sure your head isn't up in the clouds so much you don't see a mountain ahead to crash into is all."

Whatever cards she had left are shuffled back into her sleeve. "Sorry, sugar," she murmurs, eyes downcast. Conceded the match.

Or a tactical retreat. Who knows how that mind works?

"Fine." Aelwyn concedes with narrowed slit pupils, "This one is selfish." Then he gestures with his hand at her. "And she is condescending." He too leans back on his chair, collapsing at the back of it with a heavy grunt. "Or she likes to play with people. Who is this one to know?" Stretched out on his chair with one hand grasping the back of it, the other stretched out across the table, he clicks his claws across the wooden surface in a quiet cadence. "Hmmh. She can be blunt, but perhaps she should be careful about what she knows."

There's a moment of pause, and then his tight expression laxes into a tired look, as he glances over her shoulder. "Fiery start for a dinner, hmh." He lets out from between his teeth.

"I'm aware I'm being condescending. Happens when being brutally honest," Slixvah sighs, rubbing her beak. "No, I don't /play/ with people. I want to /understand/ people."

A glance to Aelwyn. Some of the feathers on her wings animate on their own accord, and a they give a wave before reaching over to pick up the wine and refill both other glasses. "I know many things I shouldn't," she admits. "Such is my life."

As his expression drops to fatigue, hers matches his for a beat before picking up in slight amusement. "Fiery start. But you're used to being on fire," she jokes.

Since the tension has abated, finally, a server swings by to grab their order, the egalrin getting a simple potato stew.

Aelwyn waves his hand away at the waiter - perhaps having lost a good chunk of his appetite, but he does order another bottle. Or two. "Honest perhaps, but she thinks to know me. Hmmh." The Dragoon grunts and then rolls his shoulders. "As this one said, she is not first one to try and set this one on fire." The ruddy sith-makar takes his wine glass and knocks it back in one go - easier for his sharp teeth.

Finally, he tilts his head and looks towards the egalrin, his eyes tracking her movements. "Did she then find out what she came looking for?"

Slixvah face feathers are growing a little fluffier, the wine in hand reminding her that she was a lightweight. The server leaves, and the egalrin sways lightly in her seat. "I did not," she answers, looking into her glass. Watching the red liquid shift. "As for I still do not know you beyond what we have danced about."

Inhibitions seemed to be lowered as she's clearly mulling something over. "You can leave if you want, I'd understand," she says quietly. "But if you stay, I'll tell you more about me. Stuff I won't openly admit. With no demand for exchange, hon."

Aelwyn stares at her, letting the heat of the wine burn him from within. At her offer, he waves his hand dismissively. "After all this, she desires to share?" He rumbles, a quiet amused sound, even if the amusement didn't quite carry over to his eyes. There's a moment another, as he keeps eyeing her. Finally, his tail slips off his chair and thumps on the floor, while he himself leans in closer.

The bottom of his wine glass is tipped at her fingers. "Only If those words will lighten the air, Ribbon." Then a bit of his grin returns on his face. "Or spread a different kind of heat - this one can share."

Slixvah gives a slow nod, feeling his gaze trained on her as she ponders the depths of her wine. "Yeah. I do," intones in the moment after his dismissal.

The sound of a tail thudding against the ground breaks her out of her reverie, sky blues drifting over the man. Then she can't help but chuckle. "After all this, he still desires?" she throws back at him, amused. "We'll see."

A breath cycled. "Well. It wasn't light. But I got light stuff. Like me. I'm a lightweight." A little laugh. "I suppose I can start with this: I have thirteen brotha's and sista's. Biiiig family. Momma taught me how ta fix hurt, Papa taught me how ta travel the land."

"As long as she stops trying to be this one's mother. The troupe was enough for this one." The Dragoon responds to her with a lazy grin on his face, swirling his empty cup as if it still contained something. The bottles he ordered are settled nearby on the table, the waiter quietly bowing before heading out. Her stew was still stewing a little bit longer.

One of the wine bottles is corked open while she speaks; and then the other. He obviously had abandoned the glass aproach, and instead starts drinking straight from the bottle. What a little flame-scaled gentleman. "Hmmh. And how many of their faces does she carry now?" The sith-makar asks.

Slix snorts. "I am known ta be a bit motherly, yes," she chuckles, watching as more wine lines their table.

She tilts her head to the side, still swaying. "None? My fam and I are on good terms. My Aerie and I... eeeeeh." She wobbles a hand. "Or do you mean swap around with faces like I tend to do? No to that too."

"Hmmh, so she is flying lone in the sky, is she?" Aelwyn asks, and then leans forward with his bottle. He keeps looking at her swaying eyes with his own. Maybe it could have been dizzying, considering the reptilian blinked so very rarely. "Strange for her to be so afraid of this one getting lost on the lonesome." He takes a sip from his wine bottle, sliding his forked tongue out to lick off the remnants.

"Fine. This one grew on the troupe. Perhaps there were nest before, but the troupe was the family." Another hefty sip. His tail sways behind him. "This one hopes she is not planning to talk about family all night long - that one shall serve us only a meal." He rumbles challengingly at her, tail moving to slide around his shoulder.

Meanwhile, the potato stew is brought. "One stew," The waiter announces and picks off the empty glass(es).

The choice of words seems to hit a chord with the egalrin. "... yes, I am lone. But the people I come across make it not so," she hums before fixating on his gaze tracking her. Slix stops. Resumes. Stops. And resumes swaying once more, amusing herself.

She bobs her head. "I see," Slix says, filing away a few mental notes (that hopefully weren't smeared by wine). She looks up to the server, giving them a happy smile as she gets her stew. "Thank you!"

She take a spoonful readily, empty stomach not enjoying having only wine to fill it. A brow is raised at the challenge. "Then what would you rather we speak of instead of spreading heat?" she tosses back. "Goals? Dreams? Aspirations? I can provide, you need only ask."

Aelwyn's eyes were a like the little guiding lights in the storm - ever vigilant and barely moving. That is to say, he was really good at staring. Up until he takes another swig from his bottle of wine, mouth opening as he cleanses off his teeth once more with a low rumble.

"Hmmh," The Dragoon begins, swirling the bottle in his grasp. "Perhaps a little too early for dreams, when we haven't even made it to bed yet." Toothy grin. "Tell more of herself." He finally asks. "Surely there is more to her than changing faces and need to peck at everyone's little secrets." He moves to pour more wine for her in her glass. "That or chirp the little something she was holding back before."

Slixvah laughs quietly, shaking her head. "Alright, alright," she says. "Dreams are held until then."

She ponders the question, tapping a spoon against her beak. "Well. I like reading and arcane magic. I was a diplomat for my Aerie for a while, so I know a lot about dwarven customs."

She gives a thankful nod for the refill, her lifting the cup up and sipping on it. "Hmm? What was I gonna chirp?"

"Hmmh, another Spellreader, is she?" The Dragoon teases with a slow grin on his face. "Diplomat, is she? This one remembers few. Always saying words besides their words." He clicks his tongue and then leans back. "Even when those words are whispered by their fingers and clever mouths."

The draconiana takes another sip from his bottle and he rumbles, lazily slapping at his chest with his tail. "Something she wanted to share." Aelwyn finally reminds her, "But this one will also take her favorite bawdy song." A toothy grin. "Or a Presslee one."

Slix snickers. "Yeah. I am. That's what diplomacy is all about, gettin' what ya want without makin' a mess of yourself and tha people you represent. Though, nowadays, I just represent me." Some more stew. "But here and now I ain't try and double speak."

She quirks a brow, then rubs her neck. "... ya sure? Ya said ya didn't want somethin' that'd heavy the air."

A blink as she's drinking her wine, then she coughs on it in laughter. "O-Oh... oh gods, heavens above. I sure as hell tried ta put on a good enough show that Tarien would like. Goodness me. But! I can give ya a bawdy song!" she raises a finger. "Do ya know Khazdul, sweetie? Otherwise I gotta translate it."

Aelwyn tilts his head with a little click of his tongue. Then a slow wriggle of his tongue and he reaches out to lightly push at her spoon holding hand with the tip of his finger claw. "Then put it this way - if she shares; then she'll have to lighten the mood." He rumbles with a toothier grin, teasing at her hand. "This one rather not wait for the morning regrets to have a bit of good time."

At his mention of Khazdul, he shakes his head and leans back, stretching out his body on his chair. "The short fellas always did know how to keep a tavern entertaining, is as much as this one knows."

Slixvah, at this point, is fairly drunk, and the spoon hand is easily pushed away as she snickers. "Fine... fine," she shakes her head. "I was just gonna mention some stuff 'bout what I do and how it affects people. But... I'll save it for another day. When the world ain't swimmin'."

The latter she met with a wide grin, and she picks up a whole bottle of wine while standing in one brisk motion. "They absolutely do! And so do I!" She deeply inhales, rising to a stand as she holds the bottle up.

Oh no. She's certainly drunk.

And she chants in a hearty, happy, upbeat cadence:

"Theeeeere once was a driven baudy lass.

Who delved down deep and nothing but crass.

One day came and down she went.

Never to return, thought she was spent.

Driven! Driven! Down forlorn!

Miss Travesty wont be scorned!

Up! Up! She rose!

Through the depths of hell she breakith the mold!

She came back furious, raging like tha sun.

Fast and bleak, all thought they were shun!

Others she grabbed, back down into the gab!

For her crusade never raised a tab!

Driven! Driven! Down forlorn!

Miss Travesty wont be scorned!

Up! Up! She rose!

Through the depths of hell she breakith the mold!

Up! Up! She rose!

Breaking through the mountains with naught but nose!

Driven! Driven! Up the on high!

Though to the heights of shining sky!"

The patrons look about to her, some annoyed at the drunk bird woman singing tavern songs in the reservation area, but there's some clapping from below. She thuds back into her chair, slamming her wine back uncouthly, and sprawls out in her seat as she pants. "How's... how's that?"

Aelwyn twists his lip at her, knocking his head aside. "Tch, the night is too short to wallow anyway." The Dragoon responds to her, before he leans back to watch the show. Soon, he is clapping along to her song, feet thumping on the floor. "Eyy, spin it, Ribbon!" He encourages - probably much to the chagrin of all the other diners.

When she finishes her song, he is still clapping with a toothy grin on his face. "This one thinks she outdid herself." HGe's rumbling in amusement. "But how does one break through the mountains with naught but nose?" The sith-makar asks with curiosity. Meanwhile, he was eyeing the rest of the reserved area. "... hmmh, is she still able to stand? This one thinks downstairs has a better atmosphere."

Slixvah laughs. "Beats me! That's just tha song!" she chirps. "I bet whatever Sunblade that song was about snapped their nose on somethin' or anotha and it made it in there."

With a few last spoonfuls, she pushes her stew aside, drops a few coins on the table, and picks her bottle back up while swaying to her feet. "I can stand! Can!" she points out. Slix is watching Aelwyn for a moment overlong, gaze hazy, but still that calculating gaze is there. Then, finally. "You know what? Fuck it."

She holds jabs a thumb over her shoulder. "Just this once. Let's get out of here."

Aelwyn grins with her, "Strong nose. Sounds very appropriate." He rumbles, and begins to stand up himself - his movements were slowed as well, but there was that dancer's practise that gave him an obvious advantage. Moving to step in close to Slixvah with his glaive at the ready - another method of cheating - he stays close to make sure she doesn't _actgually_ fall over.

"Hmmh?" The sith-makar lets out, surprised. Then a low rumble leaves his chest. "Get out of here? She thinks she has that much in her - to survive the cobblestone of Alexandria?" He challenges - and thwaps her calves with his tail. "Lead the way, Ribbon."

Slixvah makes an 'ack' as the tail smacks her, him getting a thud on the leg with an animated feather from a wing. "I can walk!" she fusses, taking a step and stumbling only a little bit. This is assuaged by the selfsame feather reaching down to prop herself up. She pokes a finger at his chest. "I can survive. You better as well," she teases before using the handrail to guide herself, and him, out of there.

Aelwyn rumbles, "This one wonders." The draconian grins, before he moves to steady her along the stairs. "Aim for the door, Ribbon. It is turbulent down there." He adds, as he follows on after her and ultimately out of the tavern.

-End Scene-