Difference between revisions of "Silver King"

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(Created page with ":: ''The TarRaCe - Early Evening'' The lunch rush at the TarRaCe has left an empty sort of mess about the place. Serving staff doing what they can to take care of remaining patrons and clear up the main room before the dinner. Even the bartender, a red haired woman in a vest is pulling out all kind of tricks to get the bar running and get some things cleaned. In this madness, a towering, shiny silverscaled makari has left the bathhouse. However, instead of his usual ge...")
 
 
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[[Catgeory:Logs]]
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[[Category:Logs]]

Latest revision as of 21:00, 12 April 2023

The TarRaCe - Early Evening

The lunch rush at the TarRaCe has left an empty sort of mess about the place. Serving staff doing what they can to take care of remaining patrons and clear up the main room before the dinner. Even the bartender, a red haired woman in a vest is pulling out all kind of tricks to get the bar running and get some things cleaned.

In this madness, a towering, shiny silverscaled makari has left the bathhouse. However, instead of his usual getup, he has several robes on, drenched, and stuck to him. "... erm... thiss one.... needsss a hand?" he asks aloud, looking for any of the staff that wasn't busy.

A pair of toeclicks approach the large makari. "Silver," A familiar voice calls out, finger tapping at arm. "What have they told one of using the robes and spilling the water everywhere?" The red ribboned horns tilt upwards as Aelwyn steps into view. "Though this one cannot blame the style." His sneaky tail taps at the other makari's ankles.

For his part, his white shirt was hanging loose and open and humidity clung onto his autumn scales - doing double duty behind the kitchen and the bathhouse. Which is how he found the unfortunate Skielstregar. "Now, what kind of hand is Silver in need of?" A row of sharp teeth.

Skiel pivots, large tail with a rag stuck to it smacking into a chair beside him. "A-Ah, sssorry," he murmurs to the chair before turning to face the man poking him. "Aelwyn, thisss one isss sssorry. Thisss one ussually getsss their clothesss afterwardsss, but, erm. They cannot find them? Thisss one had to borrow the clothesss the TarRaCe givesss, but they are... sssmall."

Explains why he's wearing several mishmash of towels and robes. Those of which have stuck to him from his perpetual freeze. "Do you know where they went?"

Aelwym tilts his head as chair gets smacked, arms still crossed. Taking a careful step forward, he reaches out and tries to peel one of those stuck towels up. "Tch, is Silver carrying the whole winter with him still?" He rumbles in amusement. "That will be interesting to wash."

Leaning away, he looks back up at Skielstregar, hand moving down onto his hip instead. "This one is sure there is an extra tablecloth somewhere for our most modest customers." Another tap of his tail. "What kind of clothes were they? This one can be certain that no armory was smuggled out of this tavern today."

A moment of pause, as he glances towards the bar. "Except perhaps Silver, if more inanimate damage occurs." The smaller draconian moves to neatly pick up the chair and table.

The towel rips away with a bit of tugging, this one haphazardly stuck on his arm. Skielstregar rumbles. "Yesss, like you ssstill carry summer. Usually it isss not thisss bad, but thisss one... erm... fell in the changing rooms and much is stuck to them."

As Aelwyn leans back, Skiel shifts to get out of the way as best he can of others, but he's still, well, large. "Jussst a tunic and pantsss. But erm, thisss one will take a tablecloth."

He rumbles a chuckle. "They apologize. Thisss one triesss to not bump into thingsss. Thisss one hass broken many thingsss in the sssoftskin city because they could not handle talon or weight."

Aelwyn clicks his teeth, "Tch, this one supposes someone," Not him, "Maybe have mistaken them for the canvas bags for the laundry." The draconian rumbles as he gives a brief bump of his hip, before he moves to one of the empty tables. Picking up the ornaments and silverware, he soon smoothly peels away the thick cloth. "Stand still, Silver." The ruddy sith-makar warns as he moves to step on a chair.

And a moment and bit of momentum later, the thick cloth is flapped open and it is flung in the air; before it settles down over the large makari's shoulders, nearly looking like a regal cloak of sorts. Nearly.

Skielstregar blinks, him barely moving from the bump. Perhaps not even registering it. "How isss thisss one'ss clothess look like cavansss bagsss? There iss even a hole for the tail, and... Giant-kin have clothesss here too? All the sssoftskin clothess would fall out!"

At the request for stillness, he complies, standing rigid, tail even holding in a half sway to the side. And then he's draped in thick cloth. Fancy! Part of it swoops, aided by his tail. "Sssa. Thiss will... mosstly work," he rumbles warmly, pulling the 'cloak' closed. "Thank you."

Aelwyn reaches up and tugs that tablecloth down and apart and just right, so that all the best parts of Skielstregar's fanciful towel mess is visible. And a bit of those shiny scales, too. Hands on his hips, he gives a toothy grin at the large makari, tail tapping at the floor. "Now Silver has to be careful, for they look ready to melt some hearts like that." A brief tilt of his head. "Or freeze."

With an amused step, the ruddy sith-makar moves to try and slowly peel away the mess of towels and robes that the icy sith had gotten stuck with. "But for those clothes - this one cannot say, perhaps someone mistook them." A tilt of his head and a slow grin on his face. "Or maybe Silver simply had a secret admirer?"

Skielstregar breathes a sigh of relief as things seem to cover him better. A chuff leaves him, a cloud of frozen air rolling forth. "Thisss one thinkss the only heart that iss melting isss you getting some amusement out of thissss."

He lets Aelwyn peel things away, but he keeps a firm grasp on some of them stuck to his chest. "Buh. No. What are they going to see by taking thisss one'sss clothesss? More sscale?"

He pauses. Looks down at the Dragoon. "Aelwyn. Did you take thisss one's attire?" he asks bluntly.

"Tch, handsome and covered in silver?" The ruddy sith-makar tilts his head upwards. "Deadly weapons are no joking manner." At the other's bout of modesty, Aelwyn gives a low rumble. The cold-chilled fingers are rubbed as he flexes them out in the air. "The towels and robes still need to be pooled and taken away, Silver. This one is merely doing one's job." He waves his hand to the side.

At the question though, Aelwyn pauses though. He takes a slow look over his shoulder towards the bar, and finally, takes a step forward towards Skielstregar. "... no." He replies quietly, "But one must admit it is a good excuse for Silver to look like a king for one day, is it not?"

Skielstregar lets Aelwyn flex his fingers, but he doesn't release those towels. "Thisss one appreciates your complimentsss, Purple, but they will return thessse when they get their clothess back. They do not like showing their chessst," he rumbles, a bit quieter on the last part.

The bartender is taking a break, her panting over a a half drank jug of water from the madness. The slow look gets her to peer over twos the two makari, and she squints at Aelwyn.

The silverscale just stares at Aelwyn before quietly laughing and shaking his head. "Thisss one would be a terrible king. Sssoftskin noblility makesss no senssse to thisss one, and would more than likely be ousssted before their tail can touch a throne."

Aelwyn crosses his arms across his chest. "Hmmh." He replies, but he picks up on the tone, with a bow of his head. "Then the towels shall be one's breastplate, o' Silver King." The Dragoon rumbles as he walks by and once again, slaps his tail against the other makari's calves. "And perhaps that one does not know, makes one a great king in the first place. Why not give it a day?" Bright teeth.

Looking back at the bar, and then back at Skielstregar, Aelwyn bows his head. "This one needs to go and..." A peer at the bathhouse. "... return to tasks. This one can find better wear if Silver needs it."

Now that gets a proper laugh out of him. A deep, vibrating thing that rattles the walls nearby. "Hah! Sssilver King. That isss amusing." He winces at the thwap against his leg, but he returns it one of his own. A careful, one. As his slap is more a nudge, as that tail at full force would toss someone afar. "Maybe another day when thisss king doesss not have their bare tail nearly on disssplay for their sssubjectsss?" he snickers."

The bartender reaches under the bar, pulling out a familiar spray bottle and shakes it at him.

Skiel is unaware of this. "Hrmm. Perhapsss thisss one will wear thiss for now until their clothesss turn up. Thank you for the help, Dragoon Aelwyn!" He grins.

-End Scene-