Scuttlebutt Says

The TarRaCe, Late Morning

The morning/brunch rush always leaves the establishment in a sort of post-exhaustive state after being slammed with business. The staff lethargically work on cleaning up, setting and preparing for the early dinner, as a section is cordoned off to accomodate those coming in for a lunch.

Behind the iron bar is that of a well dressed human woman with fiery red hair, a crimson vest and black slacks. Currently, she's surrounded by half cleaned glasses, them slowly being worked on from an ethereal, floating hand holding a rag. It's haphazard, as she currently has her face smushed against the bartop. "Aelwyn..." she calls out, muffled while stifling a yawn. "Is th' coffee done? Got an order fo' some. It's a one top, and it's me."

Having taken the opportunity to visit the baths instead of using the wash basin in his accomodations, Sloan makes his way out from the direction of the changing rooms. Tall and lean built, the young Aesir is dressed in a pair of black linen pants, and a tight undershirt. Sinew and muscle working under the skin as he rolls a pair of thin, form fitting fabric tubes up his arms. Pausing in front of a mirror, Sloan takes a moment. looking over his attire as his clothes suddenly change from casual to the black and white livery that the butler of the shining chalice is known for. Black linen pants, White, crisp linen tunic, black linen gloves and matching soft soled leather boots. Taking a moment to ensure his hair is in place, the Aesir born man finally nods, satisfied with the ensemble before he heads into the dining room proper.

Passing the exhausted masses like a display model adjacent to tragically flawed counterparts, Asphodel is clad in a black chiffon gown that is all of a piece. Neither a hair out of place nor a crime of asymmetry committed against her beauty mark, she glows, seemingly unaware of the people she passes. With one black velvet glove on the handle of a parasol, the other dreamily supporting a canvas bag, this is likely the issue people have with Llyranesi. And in comparison to Sloan, she is the yang to the yin. As she passes him standing by the mirror, one hand languidly beckons. "You look perfect. You don't need a mirror; company is enough. Won't you be mine for a little tete-a-tete this afternoon?"

Thunk. The exulting aroma of a thick, black instantly fills the near vicinity. A moment later, Aelwyn's face lowers down by the countertop and peers at the human woman around the iron pot. "Should this one sing the song of the morning bird?" The Dragoon says with a low voice; his tail swaying behind him. "Or drop a raw egg in the coffee?"

Unlike his usual wear, the draconian was wearing a white blouse with rolled up sleeves, and suspiciously opened up top buttons, and a black loincloth. The loincloth looked more a waiter's apron with notebooks and pens jutting out - but it was a loincloth, with sideflaps.

Straightening up with annoying perkiness, he grabs a coffee cup and a saucer, the porcelain clicking loudly as he pours the poor bartender a hot steaming cup. "Butler, hope the baths were to his standards? This one did make sure the towels were lined, and the soap filled." And then Asphodel strikes at him from out of the shadows. The sith-makar's lips twist and he leans against the counter. "Hnh, Gold wastes no time, does she?" The draconian quietly asks from the bar.

Totally-Not-Slixah cracks an eye open, inhaling the black scent with a barely resparked vigor. She squints at him, whistles a few notes of a birdsong, then reaches up to pat him on the head. "There, your bird song, shug," she yawns, taking the cup happily as she pulls it close to almost hug.

But, the bartender hears distant conversation that sounds unlike the jabs and jests of the TarRaCe crew, her sucking in a breath of life as she rights herself briskly. A wave of a hand and a few twisting fingers expunge the remaining ickiness before the floating hand quickly dashes things away. "'eya, welcome to th' TarR- Oooh, lookin' slick. I'm surprised ya ain't throwin' a party right present! Or ya in th' planning stages fo' another?" she coos, another wave of a hand to cool the cup off as she sips on it from the side of her mouth.

turning his attention to Asphodel, Sloan offers a polite smile and a partial, polite bow. While he is definitely of Aesir descent, the voice that comes forth is Alexandrian all the way. "Of course mistress. I am Sloan." Offering a polite arm to the Llyranesi, he continues into the dining room with her.

As Aelwyn addresses him, the butler smiles a little wider. "The baths were above standard as always Master Aelwyn. Excellent work, I am continually impressed every time I have opportunity to employ the services herein."

"Oh, always planning for another. But the best part of any party is talking about all the gossip afterwards," Asphodel purrs with her eyes half-lidded while a helpful staff member performs the female version of a coatcheck: pins are pulled from her hair, her hat and jacket are taken, and her pashmina is redraped around her shoulders. She accepts Sloan's arm with a more innocent smile, and once accepted, she turns to him as a dance partner would before stepping back into a curtsey. Rising, she follows him into the dining rooms. "Asphodel, Sloan. It is my honor to meet you."

"This one is glad, now be gentle on Gold." Aelwyn calls out to Sloan, before he turns towards Slixvah. His eyes seem to narrow a touch when his head is patted at. "Ribbon should perhaps know, that this one is adopting a policy of biting fingers that touch between this one's horns." The Dragoon rumbles. "Yet that was a pleasant tune."

The draconian walks over the end of the bar and idly picks up few of the empty plates and glasses, before walking around the counter, putting them away. In an uncharacteristically characteristic fashion though, he weaves his arm around the human bartender's shoulders. "Wish to talk to you, later." The draconian quietly rumbles. "It is important. Over a drink."

The bartender raises a brow, a lopsided grin on her face as she nurses her coffee. "Gossip, fo' sho'," she coos. "Both of 'em were quite a lotta fun. Tho', gotta say, th' last one I'm still recoverin' from. You two want anythin'?"

She sticks her tongue out at Aelwyn. "Oh hush, you finally get attention and now you wanna nibble off fingies? But thank ya." A few more dishes are put away before she's wrapped in a side hug. She quirks a brow at him, nods once. Then resumes her duties. "Good dancing th' other day, Flutter."

Aelwyn nods back and leans against the counter, returning her tongue peek with his own; wiggling the forked tips independently. "Finally? Tch. Ribbon tortures this one like the worst of the demons." Turning around, he picks up a fresh jug of water and couple of glasses. "Very - she did very well with that tail." Then he clicks his tongue. "Though perhaps we should have watched the wine."

Stepping around the counter, the Dragoon moves to serve Sloan and Asphodel with his lazy rolling gait. "Seat by the table? Or would they prefer the counter?" The ruddy sith-makar asks. "Our lovely bartender,the resident expert, can recommend excellent vintages." A macabre grin is flashed not-Slixvah's way.

Asphodel raises a brow, and is pulled towards the bar by both the magic word, "wine", and the invitation to finally get to sit down and chat. "Oh, the counter, I do love a lovely bartender," she says, raising her brows in open amusement. "And I do love wine. A long life teaches you to really appreciate liquor."

Not-Slix rolls her eyes at Aelwyn, tutting playfully. "You overstate, shug. I'm jus' glad th' spell wore off befo' too long, else I'dve been slamming into ya feet." But at that, she snort. "I know my limit with th' wine, been there, done that."

She turns her attention to Asphodel as Sloan gets situated elseplace. "And regardless of where ya sit girlie, drinks are always abound. Gots teas, threes, bees, 'skees," she chirps, pointing to a glass jar of tea leaves, a trio of 'drink of the day', a honey wine, and run of the mill ale.

She grins at Asphodel, "What'll be, hon?" she croons, tone having a familiar lilt to it, "This lovely bartender may be a bit bleh at they job, but even my bleh is still heckin' best! Also, good ta see ya once more in a less lively settin', I must say."

Aelwyn rumbles as he looks over towards definitely not Slixvah. "Then it seems as if there was not _enough_ wine." He replies in amusement. Yet he dutifully guides Asphodel by the bar and moves over towards the kitchen; leaving the red haired woman with all those ribbons to take care of Asphodel for the moment being.

He was also secretly glad he wasn't getting coins tossed at him out of the blue.

Asphodel laughs with delight at Not-Slix and she winks her thank-you to Aelwyn. "Oh. Something warm, that burns, but like a good-- whiskey and coffee," she asks, straightening up. "That sounds delightful. I'm not complicated when it comes to my drinks of choice. Or whatever you recommnd," she says, bending forward at the waist like a tulip rather than so much as bring her hands in proximity to the counter.

Not-Slixvah snorts at Aelwyn at his comment, him giving a little wave as he dips away briefly for duties. She turns to Asphodel, her bobbing her head once. "Whiskey and coffee, good choice. Hot or cold? Got coffee ice cubes," she asks, scooping up a bottle from under the counter and a mug, getting to work at mixing the drink together.

She leans against the bar, elbow resting on it with a lopsided smirk. "So. Gossip. Enough so ta hire a pretty bird?" she jokes. "You always wonderin' 'ow I'm gettin' inta places befo' ya even know I'm there."

Aelwyn returns soon after, holding up a tray of delicious smelling cookings of the day. "Careful, Lady Gold; our lovely bartender is still very loved and would be missed if she were to simply die." He flicks his tongue at not-Slix and walks away with an amused flick of his tail.

A minute later, tray under his arm, he too stops by the counter. The Dragoon bows his head deeply. "This one wishes to thank the Lady for the dances; they have been thoroughly enjoyable." A flash of his teeth. "Yet this one always regrets not being able to have a dance with the host."

Asphodel says, "Oooh, just hot. Please. The weather still has that Spring damp that clings, and makes a mockery of one's perfume. And always," She tells not-Slix, tilting her head as her smile grows wider. "You know how much I love a good party. All those musicians, actors, dancers? Just sitting around?" She shrugs. "Best put them to work as great party background. Isn't everyone looking for a good party and the wrong bed?"

The bartender hums a soft 'mmm' in acknowledgement as she gets the simple concoction together, sliding it over to Asphodel with a small saucer of cream and a few sugar cubes on a tiny plate. There's a brief snort at Aelwyn before she leans back up against the "I'll take spring dew over anything gaudy, ta be honest. Fresh air hits the best. Tho' I may be biased."

She laughs, a soft, faintly whistling sort of thing. "Most folks! I do have m'spells of 'I want peace and quiet' tho'. Be it in wrong bed or not." She drums her fingers on the bartop. "So what /is/ the scoop, Delly?" she asks, brow raised.

"Tch, are there wrong beds?" Aelwyn asks, "Even the ones one gets kicked out from, they carry their own little stories; pains and joys." He gives not-Slix a brief glance. "And very strong headaches." He moves to grab a cup of coffee for himself, pouring it with an unnecessarily showy flourish.

"Is this gossip this one should not hear, but this one will do his best to hear anyway?" The draconian asks, looking between the two women.

Not-Slix shares the side glance with Aelwyn, her picking up her coffee. "There is, sometimes," she hums, sipping loudly. "Very strong headaches indeed."

"I don't see why ya ain't gonna wanna hear it, 'cause ya stick ya horns in everythin'," she teases. "Scuttlebutt tells me tha' th' Felwood sitch is getting worked on piece by piece. It's got a connection ta th' weird magics goin' on. Still tryin' to eek out mo' info 'bout tha'. You, Flutter? Ya seem like ya been kinda busy?"

Aelwyn rolls around on his elbows. "Tch, not everything. What does Ribbon take this one as?" He asks with an amused rumble. Not to answer that question, he takes a deep sip from his cup of coffee.

The mention of Felwood makes the ruddy sith-makar slowly settle his cup down. "... yes, there is magic going on in the Felwood." He says, with a far less amusement in his voice. "None, this one has found, what one would think of as 'desirable'." He idly readjusts one of the worn ribbons at the root of his horns.

Not-Slix quirks a brow Aelwyn from behind her cup. As if to answer that question, she merely reaches under the bar, pulls out a glass bottle with a sprayer mechanism at the top, and sloshes it around. It seems to be filled with water, and 'Aelwyn' is scrawled on the side with ink in jagged, sharp runes. <Draconic> She puts it back.

She folds her hands together, humming quietly. "Yeah. Ain't none of it desirable. Especially if its th' Felwood is losin' its grasp of the curse. Means a power vacuum. Means loads goin' on. You been in on that, Aelwyn? Any biz you wanna let me in on?" she requests, topping off his coffee.

With bows given to Asphodel, she is led led back to the table.

Yet Aelwyn , for all his best qualities, can barely read draconian. Still, he manages to let out a low rumbling sound. "Ribbon just enjoys making this one wet." He points out with much accusation.

The draconian lets out a low sigh. "They spoke of curses and a temple of Elune," He raises his hands. "Less of a power vacuum, this one felt. More of a vacuum that devours itself and anything that strays near." He clicks his tongue. "Like a kingdom that has gone beyond revelry and past sheer corruption of vices."

Couple of claw clicks and he glances around the tavern, before he leans in closer, speaking very quietly. "I saw there something. That is what I want to talk about, later." He gives a more narrow look over his shoulder. Then after a moment, he takes a piece of paper and ... well, he scribbles letters onto a paper. 'Troupe'.

Slixvah can't help but laugh at that one. "In your dreams," she cackles before sighing and shaking her head. Settling down, she rests her elbows on the bar with her brows pinched. "... hrm. Eluna. Wonk magic, tha' tracks," she drums her fingers. "Considerin' it's been a corrupted space for who knows how long, that devouring is gonna be a madness fest of chaos 'til we get it sorted wit' it."

As Aelwyn leans in, she does to, her glances down at the paper before giving a sloooow nod. "... right. Wha' 'bout it, shug?" she intones quietly, looking a touch concerned for the Dragoon. "Can talk now or afta th' shift."

Aelwyn picks up the piece of paper, and just as casually, he slides over one of the lit lights and idly sets it on fire. He lets the flames caress the paper, then his finger, before he flicks it up and swallows it in his hand. "Later. This one needs to ask for advice."

The ruddy sith-makar's lips begin to spread apart from his teeth. "Besides, we've not had a drink out in a while." Tail sways behind him.

Changing the subject, the Dragoon straightens. "The place keeps shifting, but the mages and Hotstone managed to take us closer." He rumbles in a bit of an annoyance. "This one named Huian was very upset, when we defended ourselves." There's another long ruminating rumble, and now it is Aelwyn's turn to lay down on the counter; rolling over his back.

"Why there are so few things in this town that just yield to blade and common sense?"

Not-Slix's eyes widen slightly at that. "Asking /me/ for advice? Tha's new. But! I won't look it like a gift horse," she grins triumphantly, the fire display not truly phasing her. Though, she watches it with idle interest before she pulls back with a light chuckle. "No, we haven't. And we should. Buuuut without the whole... after bit," she suggests, rolling a hand.

She crosses her arms, listening, and looking amused as he gets up on the counter to bemoan. Good thing she just cleared it off. "Interestin' kind of place. Hopefully ya'll we're able ta get it mapped a bit despite how much it shifts."

But at that, she snorts, reaching out to pat Aewlyn on the shoulder. "There there. If it were that easy, we wouldn't have such a confluence of disasters and complexities to unwind. And, life would be boring, me thinks."

"No use, it shifts away, we tracked it down in a spiral, and only found an outlying building. Hotstone left something behind." Aelwyn rumbles, making vague gestures with his hand in annoyance, before he looks up at not-Slixvah as he gets patted.

Sharp white teeth are exposed and he snaps up his teeth up towards her. "Tch, confluence of disasters and complexities - all one needs can be found here, and beyond the shimmer of the last drink of the night." The ruddy sith-makar says in amusement, before slowly rolling over on his front and gets back up to a stand. "Back to work?"

Slixvah tuts. "I'm sure there's a method to th' madness," she hums, rubbing her chin. "Love ta tackle it if I had a chance ta. Ah well."

She snickers at the snipping, her leaning against the as she looks down at him. "It all is. From one too many drinks, to a rowdy crowd, to an upset nation. It's all in scope, and how ya see it."

She leans back to let him up, a sigh leaving her as she pours herself another cup of coffee. "Yeeeeeah. I'm thinkin' of bustin' out some mojo ta get thi' done reall' fast. I need a bird nap," she yawns. "Let's get this bread."

Back to the grind.

-End Scene-