Buried Hindsight

It's late in the evening, and the tables are starting to fill in TarRaCe with the crowd wanting to stretch out their legs and wet their throats way into the night. Or just listen to the musical performance on stage - this one had lively jig to it, with the fiddle and the harmonica stomping a cheery beat.

In the corner, stretching out his legs and leaning against the wall in a very dramatically tired fashion, was a ruddy scaled sith. White blouse was completely open as Aelwyn held his arm over his face, apparently completely beat. Hey, one just blazed through several shifts with the power of coffee and good food!

The red ribboned glaive was leaning against the wall behind him. A tray of chips and half eaten steak laid in front of him. "This one might never dance again," He rumbles, "For the sound of this fiddle will curse this one's feet."

Finally, off shift.

The red vested bartender tosses her rag over a shoulder towards the next keeper of the cheery night. While her appearance was flawless in terms of looking haggard, each step makes bits of the illusion fall away, magic shedding to reveal a frazzled eglarin woman, her feathers in a tussle and a tired look about her. She too was part of the multi-shift gang. And she's exhausted her magics to keep herself going.

She falls into a seat next to Aelwyn, herself having a hearty salad of greens and nuts along with a pitcher of water between the two. "I think thi' is a rare moment right here, Flutter, lookin' like he's smolderin' rather than blazing," she tiredly teases.

Aelwyn tilts his head towards the egalrin, orange eyes peering at her from under his arm. "Some like a little smoldering. A heat that brings a little flush." He rumbles and with his tail, swipes at Slixvah's leg. "Shall this one order a bottle of wine? Or three? This one feels three."

The draconian heaves a rumble as he starts to get up on a more upright. Idly, he moves to pick at one of those frazzled feathers, smoothing it down. "How is her brother? Has her family settled down nearby yet?"

Slixvah snorts, taking the swipe gracefully as she lightly kicks the tail back. "Yeah, tha' is tru'." She ponders, jabbing a fork into salad mixing it about. "Yeah, three is good. Feels like a three kind of day, crazy frickin' shift, shug."

She looks over to Aelwyn, glancing down at the preening. A sigh escapes her. "It's... they're in Alexandros now. Long travel. Zazni's been going back and forth between here to talk to me, the Aerie they movin' to, and th' fam. Thanks... thankies fo' askin'."

She looks at him. "And you? How are ya?"

"Good. Tell the big green Ranger greetings from this one." Aelwyn flashes his bright teeth; before pats Slixvah on the shoulder. "Would be a shame if he forgot about this one."

THe takes in a deep breath and rolls his shoulders, giving his teeth a click. "Aflame. A flame doused with water." He flags down one of the waiters nearby, flicking up three fingers - not a word was said before their coworker disappears over the bar, already fetching out the bottles.

Three coins and a fourth shinier one was conjured from his pocket, and he flicks them between his knuckles. Orange eyes stared down for a time. "She hide away from her family long?"

Slixvah groans, putting a hand on her face and letting it slide down her beak. "/Please/ don't try and hook up with my brother," she groans, shaking her head as she works on her nut filled salad. There's probably a bird joke here somewhere.

"Hmmm..." she muses. "Doused in water? I only sprayed ya a few times today. Didn't even get ta dunk th' bottle on ya." Her eyes soften. "Unless this is related ta tha' thing ya told me 'bout."

The egalrin takes a small breath. "Well... sort... of." She idly stirs her salad. "About five years, yeah. I left 'em so I wouldn't give 'em mo' bad pressure from the Aerie since I do weird magics. My kin is great, but man they rumor monger /hard/. So I'm jus' a lil' worried about how they'll be received at th' Aerie here."

"Tch, this one is slipping. Should this pop open few more buttons by accident next shift?" Aelwyn asks with a wide toothy grin. "This one's always felt as if the shirt is the one keeping this one back. Besides, her brother's been blessed, what can mere mortals do?"

On the stage, the harmonica steps up to have a long, extended solo. Cheers and groans alike fill the room.

The mention of the 'thing' has the ruddy sith-makar's facial expression fade away again. He picks up the knife and idly prods at the steak. "Yes. It does." He clicks his tongue. "Should this one be now worried that Ribbon will go rumor mongering?" The Dragoon asks then, flashing his tongue as he bumps his elbow against the egalrin. "This one is half the mind to keep it to himself." Another poke at the steak. "Because some hidden truths are always dangerous."

Slixvah rolls her eyes. "You know what? Fine. Go ahead. But good luck, his skull is as thick as the walls of Alexandria," she throws her hands up, shaking her head.

The harmonica solo gets her to quietly whistle along, being a bird has its perks, being able to copy such noises. But her attention is solely on Aelwyn. It felt off that the usually fiery Dragoon was so muted. Slix quietly laughs at the elbow. "I love me some good gossip. But I know half a mind ta keep my beak shut 'bout some things."

The bottles are brought over. "This one's gratitude," The Dragoon then says, sliding the coins he was holding over. One tips like one wants to be tipped. With pure gold. Taking the bottle and the glasses, he pops the cork open and pours her the two glasses. He himself sticks to the rest of the bottle - much easier with the teeth. "Tch, this one always enjoyed the challenge. Who knows, where love can blossom? Maybe at the very end, when the silken drapes are unfurled." He rumbles in amusement.

Looking at Slixvah at last, Aelwyn looks like he was composing himself for something. Finally, he leans in closer and wraps his arm around her. The sith-makar stows away his usual accent and speaks very plainly. "Back in the Felwood, I saw a nightmare. The thorns dug into my scales, a hallucination." He quietly says - the solo had been replaced with a fiddle taking the stage. Long sweeps and bows, going violent to smooth and silent. "Jacob was there, frozen. Surrounded by figures in red." There's a long moment, and then the ruddy sith-makar exhales. "They were flaying his skin, while he was alive."

The red and purple hued snout leans tight against Slixvah's ear. "The Crimson Troupe, that is."

Slixvah offers a thanks and raises her glass as she's given her glass, though she almost gags at that. "Please, keep that mental image outta my head," she bemoans, shaking her head and shoving her beak into the glass. A few gulps down and its drained. Tough shift.

She wipes her beak off with a cloth, watching Aelwyn pull himself together. Unlike their usual banter, this felt different, so a large wing unfurls and loops around the Dragoon as his voice dips to share. Feathered brows furrow. Then shoot up. "... yeesh. I... expect somethin' li' tha'- hallucinations from the Felwoods curse, b-"

She freezes. "... oh, honey, Aelwyn," she intones, the wing hugging him tighter. "It was jus' a hallucination, ri'? Jacob all good? Still, doesn't discount the trauma at all..."

Aelwyn retreats a touch and takes a long sip from his bottle. He too, seems to be able to drain it very effectively. A power of his, one could argue. Well honed. "Try not to speak of the name." The draconian says and lets out a long exhausted rumble. "He is fine. This one thinks they saw something else. The rest of the group knocked it out of us." He lets out a strong 'tch'. "This one desires to return to the Felwood, just to see it burn."

A strong breath is drawn and then he looks down at the bottle, before he raises it up. And pours Slixvah more. "It..." He flickers his tongue out, in a bit of an annoyance - then he knocks more of the wine into his mouth. Finally, he manages to breathe out. "... but maybe it could have been something that happened." A rumbling sound, then he looks up at Slixvah. "A brilliant way to ruin a great party here in Alexandria, don't she think?" A tired flash of his teeth.

Slixvah shakes her head. "I won't. Promise." She shifts over to her next glass, leaving the other one to get refilled. "I'm glad ya'll are alright. But seriously, can't discount somethin' like that. I... gonna be real, couldn't sleep that well after fightin' wit' some wights. Was downright terrifying. I usually see some pretty weird stuff, but hallucinating somethin' like that..."

She shakes her head, getting out of that. "Thanks," she hums as her glasses are topped off. Though, the witch quietly listens, reading between the lines. Drumming her fingers. "... you think they's did stuff like that?" she asks, a tinge disturbed. "Hon, the party is always ruined here, we just get louder to drown out the stuff that ruins it," she attempts to joke back, a few feathers on the wing around him patting him on the shoulder.

Aelwyn takes another swig from his bottle - but then it is empty, and a second one is promptly opened. Maybe it was three bottles per face. "Ask when this one arrived, definitely not." He then looks towards the stage. "Yet after being here a while with one's own feet," He rolls his shoulders. "Perhaps some things are more clear. Hateful whispers once scorned, seen in new light."

"Just like the lacking beat on that fiddle!" Aelwyn suddenly calls out - then falls back down as the music momentarily gets interrupted, with a rough rumble. And then the music continues.

The Dragoon then looks towards the ribboned egalrin. "Do you think it was merely the Felwood playing tricks, Slix?" The ruddy sith-makar looks towards her; and it very much looked like he was not really interested in hearing her honest opinion.

Slixvah leans back into the chair, a singular sky blue eye resting on the Dragoon as he shares. She can't help but laughs at the callout to the fiddler, her playfully smacking his arm to get him to calm down. "Loo', sugar. Sometimes when we get betta and get some more life experience, our hindsight becomes clearer."

She drinks, keeping an eye on the Dragoon. He's got some shaken foundations, no doubt. Slix doesn't answer right away. Her finishing the glass and wiping her beak off once more. "Here's the thing 'bout curses," Slixvah starts, getting herself seated properly. "You know what I do. I practice some occultism things. Hexes and curses. Curses need a root. They need somethin' ta latch on to. Fo' me, I usually just use bad luck."

She looks at him head on, seeing his dour mood. She puts a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, and no, ta answer your question. It was probably playing tricks, but using what you know of ya past ta twist it into somethin' else. If you think your... group did even just made threats of it, tha' woods prolly exacerbated tha' insecurity ta make it /seem/ real."

Aelwyn pours her more wine. Because what is the use of having bottles of wine, if they cannot be finished? A low rumble leaves his mouth. "Hmmh. Hindsight is only good sigh if one keeps one's eyes on the quarters," The draconian replies and gives his bottle a swirl. "What is the use of ruminating in what has and what could have?"

Then after a moment, the Dragoon rolls his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. "Tch. Except this one cannot now get it out of this one's mind." A long breath follows. He leans his head on his fist and looks towards Slixvah for a while.

"This one remembers when she spoke of herself and luck. Yet here this one is." His tail moves to tap at the egalrin woman's calves. "Never seem to get lucky." A white set of teeth appears.

Slixvah, always the lightweight drinker, can't help but guffaw at that. "Then keep your chin up when ya talk ta me!" she snickers, lightly slugging him in the arm. She shakes her head. "'cause ruminating provides insight on the future. Learn from th' past, live in the now, prepare fo' th' future."

She gives a wan shrug at him. "Seems like it'll be ya brain worm fo' a lil' while."

She sloshes her wine, idly taking glances at the man as he watches her. "Luck is when preparation meets opportunity," she opines, raising a finger off her glass as her calf pushes at the tail as she chuckles. "Last opportunity had poor preparation. Th' luck stuff is still a thing. Happens in small ways still."

Her eyes crinkle at him in a smile. But it slowly slides away to a soft sigh. "What makes ya think ya ain't gettin' lucky? And no, I ain't talkin' 'bout bedfellows. Th' way I see it, you've been given loads of chances ta improve, and ya been takin' it, don't think I don't see it."

Aelwyn rumbles as he picks up his bottle. Nevermind, he bothers to pour it in glass this time around. "Tch, ruminating only dredges up the ones one buried in the sand." He reaches out forward with his arm. "Let the breeze cover what one left, and the skies slowly forget what laid underneath."

"Tch, this one felt pretty ambused when Ribbon and Bard both took this one in their eyes." He flicks his tongue out at the egalrin. "This one supposes when one stands still long enough, one will eventually get bitten." He rolls the glass of wine and then knocks back a mouth. Or tries to. Bunch of it has to be wiped and licked off afterwards.

At her compliment, Aelwyn then turns to look towards her. "Ribbon does have a tongue that lilts nothing but pleasant compliments." Sliding the last bottle towards the two of them. "How's she in mind of having a dance, and then seeing how many ribbons we get mixed up on each other?" A flash of teeth.

Slixvah shrugs, chuckling to herself. "Or lays to rest what needs be buried," she counters coyly before knocking back the last of her wine.

She flicks a glance to him, herself amused. "And I think we both learned too much of you gets us burned," she jokes, sticking her tongue.

"What can I say? I try ta be a nice gal," she coos, smiling warmly before the bottle is slid between them. She takes it, filling up one more cup as she works on it. Her last one, it seems, as she's at her limit, were her sloshing in her seat any evidence enough. "Shit, I think you have to /be/ half drunk ta dance tha' off beat fiddle. Sure, let's cap off a crap set of shifts."

She rises, wobbles a bit, and knocks back the last of her wine before holding a hand out to Aelwyn. "C'mon. But watch your hands, I ain't condoning hindsight being felt," she half jokes, half chastises.

The ruddy sith-makar looks as if he were shot; or at least wounded, before he flicks his tongue right back at Slixvah. "When one dances with fire, ribbonwing, sometimes the fire will reach out and dance back." He leans with his tail and gives her a bit of a tap, before she gets up.

"Tch, yet some of the best dances have a firm grasp." The Dragoon replies as he takes last gulps of his own, starting to get up. "How will this ever hold her up?" He was not unsteady - but he had that loose goofy look about him. When one is a professional.

His scaled hand reaches out and holds her, and Aelwyn slides around behind her, holding her arm up. "This one is grateful for her listening. And later whence our bodies catch up to us." He rumbles - and as that fiddle slowly devolves into very experimental sounds, the Dragoon starts to move to the music.

Slixvah snorts. "And I am well aware of that now, Flutter," she snickers, taking his hand and leaning into him to help keep herself up. As well as a few feathers acting as anchors. "Ya can watch ya firm grip easily enough," she tuts, wobbling a bit in the hold. "And I'll watch mine."

But. She relaxes some in the hold. Voice going into a slurred softness, "'course. Lemme know if ya eva wanna talk 'bout anythin' else, shug. Hangover's gonna be killer tho'..."

The egalrin lets the Dragoon take the lead. For there was no way she was going to get anything done. Save for that birdsong matching in tune with the fiddle.

-End Scene-