by Ruzekiel Soren on October 8th, 2012, 2:55 am
"Shnuh leahp shalur."
“Beg pardon?” OK so she hadn’t needed it that much. But at least she didn’t look insanely murderous anymore. Just a bit green.
A few people were starting to look but Zeke stared them down (or attempted to anyway.) He hated people looking at him when he was knackered, not like he remembered people looking. He nodded and smiled, catching her politely by the shoulders and pushing her gently back into place when she began to tilt precariously towards him.
"Blizah, meuh,” the woman garbled. He assumed it was her name, and he reached out to take the offered hand but she pulled it away to steady herself on the stool. She pushed the whiskey away and set her head on her forearms and Zeke patted her shoulder awkwardly as she let out a hacking few coughs.
“And you? Name? Racis?” Zeke stared at her for a moment and then realized what she was trying to say.
“Oh, uh, yes, I’m Ruzekiel, and I’m a human vantha, and I live here, in Alvadas,” he nodded his head slowly as he said this. He knew she wasn’t stupid, but he also knew that she was probably in a horrible haze right now and he wanted her to know that he was a friend. Well, sort of, even if she had been threatening him only an hour ago. Blizah gave the whiskey bottle another longing look but then made a disgusted sound and pushed it away further. So far in fact that it fell to the floor and shattered. The bartender squealed as glass went everywhere. Zeke sighed. “Sorry about that,” he said blithely, and he slipped his tab plus a few silvers across the counter to the girl, who blinked at him and then quickly pocketed the extra cash. Blizah giggled drunkenly. "Ne- harnh, no foul eh?" Now people were really starting to notice what a bad shape the Kelvic was in, and Zeke felt partly responsible. Some unsavory folk were leering at the woman and he felt his stupid mother-hen thing kicking in again. Damn medicine wolf instincts.
Thus, before Blizah could stumble into trouble or yarf on someone’s boots, Zeke slipped his generous frame under the drunken woman’s arm. “You need some fresh air. Come on then,” he said matter-of-factly, sliding off his stool and leading her slowly towards the door of the packed tavern. He pushed his way through the crowd, keeping an eye on her face and making sure she didn’t topple over, her arm securely wrapped around his shoulders. When they got outside it was to a cool night with a nice breeze and a nearly cloudless sky, perfect weather for sobering up. He led the poor drunken thing to a nearby bench and dropped her onto it in a pale, greenish heap, then sat on the other side, keeping his new shoes as far away from her face as possible.
“You allright, Blizah?” he asked gently. She was going to have a wicked hangover in the morning, that was for sure.