56th of Fall
20th Bell
513 AV
"Tch, girl, that's too much!" Jill Brae cried as the barmaid set yet another mug of ale before the blonde. Hadyn and Jill's daughter, Alma, exchanged glances, smiles plastered on their lips as the older woman took a slurping sip from the overfilled mug. They'd spent most of the evening seated at the table exchanging stories, their laughter rising over the general din. Resting a hand on her belly the weaponsmith looked on as Alma sipped delicately from her own drink, icy blue eyes watching her mother.
"I'll have t'carry ye home a'this rate," Alma mused with a smirk as she set the mug down. Folding her hands in her lap the thin young woman couldn't hide the smile that flashed her white slightly uneven teeth. She was a pretty thing, sharing the slender build of her mother with a sharp gaze and fine bone structure. Both women resembled birds, though Jill was decidedly more predatory in her fierce angles and hollowed cheeks, whereas Alma appeared more like a fragile bluebird. Her blush colored gown, homespun as it was, accentuated her aerial figure, fastened with a beige ribbon at her waist. It seemed the young woman preferred more feminine attire than was permitted while on the road. She'd certainly indulged in a few choice items while in the city, wearing them at every opportunity. Her hair was equally lovely this night, plaited and coiled about her head in a fashionable manner. But she wasn't just satisfied trussing herself up - not by far.
"Would you stop picking at that?" her timorous voice was surprisingly sharp as she swatted Hadyn's hand from where it attempted to loosen the satiny ribbon tied about her elbow.
"I don't know why y'bother having fasteners on the sleeves. It's not like the material's goin' anywhere," Hadyn grumbled as she relented with a frown. Alma had dressed her this evening in a grey gown complete with a dipping neckline and voluminous skirt. Compared the attire sported by most Sylirian women it was modest but for Hadyn it was both lavish and a damn nuisance with ribbons lacing through the hem of the sleeves, neckline and waist, accentuating her pregnancy. Despite feeling like a stuffed turkey she had to admit it was a beautiful gown, the material much softer than anything she owned.
"It's for 'sthetic value," Alma informed her crisply as she readjusted the slate colored ribbon where it threaded through the sleeve's material. She reached forward again to quickly grasp her cousin's hand as it sought to adjust the dark waves of hair that had been dutifully brushed and styled. "It took me half a bell t'get the knots outta your hair, Hadyn. Don't go messin' with it now!"
"I look like a petchin' doll, Alma."
"Oh come on, lass. Ye look fair 'nough t'be a doll. Though... don't 'magine I've seen a pregnant doll afore," Jill remarked with a smirk before chuckling to herself. The woman was rather inebriated, already on her fourth mug of ale. While the other two had previously enjoyed the blonde's drunk antics Hadyn suddenly felt uncomfortable with the comment and amused gazes the statement afforded her. This was not going to die a quiet death.
"A doll in t'likeness of Haddie! Wouldn't that be a lark," Alma replied with an airy giggle as she rearranged a dark curl over Hadyn's shoulder. Ignoring their kinswoman's uneasy expression the Brae woman snickered again as she took another sip. "Though they wouldn't sell without one o' her trademark scowls."
"Aye! An' her foul language. Petch this, petch that. I need a petchin' drink, I do. Bring me a lad to petch!"
"Yes! An' she'd have to have her wee hammer an' a pair o' ugly trousers too! Could you imagine?" the younger woman crowed as her mother slumped back into her chair in a fit of laughter. Hadyn knew she was doing nothing to improve her image by sitting there silently, a glower on her full lips as she rolled her eyes. This was digressing quickly.
"No decent mother'd buy that doll for her lil' girl. It'd be too crass, 'specially with the baby bump."
"An ye'd have to buy the fadder separately!"
"Mercy, I cannay breathe!"
"Are you finished yet?"
"Oh Haddie, love, it's just," Jill wheezed in a breath as she struggled to push the sentence out. "We're just havin' a bit o' fun. Won't you laugh 'bout it?"
"You're both assholes."
As much as she wanted to reproach them for their teasing the thought of a doll in her likeness managed to pull a smile from the weaponsmith. It was, after all, a ridiculous image. After a moment of struggling to maintain an annoyed visage the woman relented, chuckling as well, shaking her head with defeat. It felt strange to laugh and enjoy herself - something she hadn't done in quite some time. As obnoxious as they were her cousins were doing a wonderful job of entertaining her, even if was at her own expense.
"Well I hope you're enjoyin' yourself. 'Specially considerin' you're the one who gussied me up like a petchin' debutante. Suppose this was your intention all along."
"That an' t'make you presentable t'the bachelors of Syliras - if there be any left," Alma replied coolly as she hid a catty smile over the rim of her glass.
"Aye, between the two of us I think we've petched 'em all," Hadyn replied with a smirk. Alma grinned before glancing at her mother who was resting her chin in the palm of one hand. Her blonde hair hung across her face as she smiled into the empty space. Casting a look to Hadyn the younger woman raised her thin brows.
"I think the ol' lady's due for a mattress soon."