Open In It To Win It

[Eliro Darkcrest]

52nd OF SUMMER, 515AV
20th BELL, NIGHT
THE KELP BAR

The day was long, and Eliro's job sucked. Perhaps if the Svefra was willing to spend more time with the land-dwellers she could secure a better occupation for herself, but as it was the seawoman rarely ventured onto land, and usually only for booze. Which was precisely why she was there tonight.

Knowledgeable of the fact that land-dwellers preferred more cover, even in the heat of the summer, Eliro had slid into a flowing shirt, but kept her shorts instead of trousers. Of course she would go nowhere without a weapon, and while she left her daggers on her Casinor, she had her emerald atani that hung loosely around her neck. Any who didn't know better would dismiss the Svefran weapon as a simply scarf, of course she could fold out the blades for use in a heartbeat. Still, she earned a few objectifying looks from the humans around her that night. It didn't matter, she was there for a drink.

It would be kind to say the Kelp Bar was a little shabby. The dilapidated building seemed as thin as paper and ready to blow over. Eliro grimaced at the rusty metal sign, before yanking the door open. A drink was a drink, and according to the dock workers, it was the best place to get a good mug of Kelp Beer. At first, eyes were on her. She was the stranger, and so obviously Svefra by her piercing blue eyes and inked body. It wasn't until she caught sight of a particular Sloop Sailor that helped her get her first job. He merely nodded to her and the Svefra nodded back, which seemed enough for the bar patrons to gladly ignore her, as it appeared she wasn't such a stranger after all.

Eliro only wasted a second to let her eyes wander the dim room, before landing on the only sign in there. KELP BEER, 1 HALF-NILO

Eliro headed straight for the bar. Anything from the sea, must taste good. Last time she had visited Zeltiva with her Pod, her father told her the drink was too strong, and gave her a more expensive, and supposedly better-tasting, barley ale from the market instead. This time she would try the notorious Kelp Beer for herself. Pulling a half a Nilo from her pocket, she laid it on the counter. The older human behind the counter caught the scrap of metal before it could bounce once. Eliro took one of the rickety wooden chairs at the bar for herself, sliding onto the unstable wood. It wasn't long before the putrid green liquid was presented to her.

She looked up questioningly at the woman, but she had already turned away from the Svefra. Was this shyke really the Kelp Beer? It was flat! Eliro picked up the handle of the clay mug, swishing the liquid slightly. It wafted a dead fish smell up to her nose, but the Svefra was disgusted by that. The liquid left a clear green sludge on the sides of the mug where it had sloshed. The Svefra watched for a horrified moment as the thick liquid seeped back down into itself off the side of the cup. Petch it. Eliro tossed her head back and chugged half the mug before she was forced to stop because of the smell. It was warm going down, just as an alcohol should be, but it also immediately squished Eliro's face and made her stick out her tongue.

"What the Hai is this shyke made of?" Eliro mumbled to herself in Fratava before testing another big gulp. It was not a pleasure drink, but so long as it worked well and worked quickly, the Svefra would keep drinking it.

[Quinlan Corodin]

Lately, Quinlan made something of a regular tour of the pubs and gathering places of Zeltiva. He insisted to himself that it was business. There was gossip to listen for, important strangers to bump into, or maybe even a clever idea waiting at the bottom of a mug. That was a more pleasant line of thinking than the thought of avoiding his drab home and another evening of obsessing over finding the next rung on the ladder to somewhere. The excuse was a little more flimsy on East Street, such as it was. It was harder to imagine finding anything here beyond trouble. But the idea of mustering the primp and polish for a higher brow locale made Quinlan weary this night. Cheap drinks, maybe a cheap laugh or some free advice from an old salt; that would do for a change. Barely two steps inside The Kelp Bar and his expectations, low though they were, were already exceeded. The young woman at the bar with "Svefra" practically written all over her was hard to miss. Her people were a common enough sight in the great port city, but from what Quinlan recalled, they didn't often advertise themselves and there were places they didn't seem to go. Something about this one alone on land after dark tugged at his curiosity. Quinlan took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair to dispel any hat-head. He sidled straightaway into a stool on her left, and his knee bumped the bar as he tried to find room for his legs. He raised his eyebrows and gave the Svefra an easy smile as he laid his hat on the bar. "Kelp beer," he ordered, and soon had his own mug of green slurry. He took a swig. It was as disagreeable as ever. "That wouldn't be your first taste would it?" Quinlan asked, trying to decide the answer from her expressions. "You don't notice the texture as much after the first cup. And you almost have to admire the taste. Any other drink, the alcohol is the bitter part." He drank a little more and grimaced. "Kelp beer puts on airs for no one."

[Eliro Darkcrest]

Eliro didn't look up when the flow of common reached her ears. The Svefra sometimes found the flowing language uncomfortably soft, but had understood the foreign tongue well enough to know they were directed at her. So she looked that new presence, debating whether to engage. Only a tick passed before she turned back to her ale to slosh it around the tin mug once more before replying to his last sentence.

"Seems so." She tested the common on her tongue, a thick Fratavan accent interfering with the words. Placing her half empty mug on the counter, she dared twist in the fragile stool that she sat on to look at the land-dweller beside her. "But strong, yes? Why else drink it?" She hooked a finger on the warped mug handle, bringing the ale back to her lips. She took a few ticks to glance at the man, seeing that he was not like the human sailors she primarily saw. He was a little less rough, more rounded. It was something that the Svefra had very little contact with, the civility of land-dwellers, and so the human grabbed her interest easily. She could hardly help the faint twitch of her lips as she tried not to react to the putrid taste.

"Not sure about land-folks." A mischievous glint edged into her aqua blue eyes. "But, Svefra can handle any ale." She challenged, downing the last of her first mug. Perhaps the taste was gag-worthy, but she was willing to put the rumor of her people to the test, and perhaps get something worthwhile out of the green monster in her cup. Slipping another hard earned scrap of metal from her pocket, she placed it on the counter, glancing to see where the bartender was at. Just as the first time, the coin quickly disappeared, and her mug was filled with the notorious Kelp Beer once more. Swinging one leg down in front of her, the Svefra turned back to the man to see if he had picked up on her challenge or not.

[Quinlan Corodin]

Quinlan gave the Svefra a bemused sideways smirk. Somewhere near the back of his mind, he noted that this situation bore certain similarities to the odd tale some pub-crawler might tell which ended with him waking up in an alley with a headache and his pockets turned out. But with scant else in his pockets besides a bit of drinking money, why not? After the bartender clomped down the woman's second drink, Quinlan motioned for another of his own and dug for another coin. "Sure, but this isn't just any ale. For a Zeltivan, this is mother's milk." He turned up his first mug and gulped. The remaining fluid squeezed down his throat, and a picture came unbidden to his imagination of the stuff being hauled off a boat in bilge buckets and sloshed in the general direction of a mucky keg. He swallowed the last mouthfuls hard, increasingly anxious to end this first cup of punishment. Quinlan set the cup on the bar and pushed it away, and pressed the back of his other hand to his lips to rub away any green residue. "Sour mother's milk," he jibed with a grimace, and stifled a cough. "But I guess the rewards of the drink aren't in the flavor." His curiosity began to nag for a name, or some chatter about something besides the character of kelp beer. But his ego insisted that would be a weak move this early in the spontaneous game they were possibly playing. Instead he curled his fingers ominously around his second mug, and glibly observed his implied opponent.

[Eliro Darkcrest]

"Mother's Milk Eh?" Eliro teased in reply to his cough. Braving her own glass she threw her head back, chugging the mug as best she could, without allowing her tastebuds to dwell on the liquid too much. Try as she might to keep her face straight once she was done, Eliro couldn't help the repulsed twitch of her lip. But that didn't matter because she could feel the alcohol warming her chest, lightening it. If she drank this stuff fast enough she might be lucky enough to forget the night. Tossing down the last dregs of the slush, Eliro pulled yet another coin out to receive another Ale.

"Ay, not in the flaver. Suppose ya don't get down here enough." Blue eyes glanced at the neat clothing. Living and working at the docks exposed the Svefra to her fair amount of wear and tear, as much was obvious on the outfit of any sailor. But the man before her was clean, and neat. Not something she expected in the heart of East Street. Her race's reputation gave her the image of rough, but the human's had no solid reputation, it was something she would have to discover herself. "West street man?" The Svefra guessed, reaching up with her free hand to pop her own shirt collar to motion what she meant. The loose fabric was not stiff enough to hold and returned to hanging on her inked collarbone easily enough.

"No. I'm guess..." The Svefra squinted her eyes at him, pulling her fresh mug of ale closer for the pause. "Not rich, but..." Eliro paused again. This man wasn't rich, else he wouldn't be down there. But he was clearly enjoying the spoils of land-dwelling. "You have been to University?" She questioned, trying to seek out any information on the human before her, even with her broken common.

[Quinlan Corodin]

Feeling under the magnifying glass, as it were, Quinlan shifted in his seat as the sailing woman appraised him. As she made her guesses, which were something of an affirmation for him, he didn't try hiding another grin, genuine and sheepish. "I'm glad that you would think so," he admitted. He began speaking a little more slowly out of reflex as he listened to her Common."I was supposed to be, eh, all of those things. But it didn't quite work out that way." He looked down into his mug, seeing images of his adolescent expectations and his parents' hopes on the surface of the green swill. "Not yet," he continued, looking back up. "But it will." He smirked. The recollection had a bitter taste of its own; he swallowed it and put it behind him, too. "I think if you want to be something, you should start acting like it." Quinlan leaned back and lifted his mug, searching for simpler words. "If you want to be a fish, start swimming," he said over the rim of his mug, then drank. "And you," he began, a bit of inquiry in his tone. "The day's trading would be done by now. I'd guess a seafaring girl to be on her (ship), maybe with her (pod)." Quinlan nonchalantly dropped a couple Fratava words. "Not looking for East Street trouble, I hope."

OOCSorry for the wait, was moving house. Hoping to speed up writing now.