PM to join [Rearing Stallion] The Female of the Species [Asen]

[Logan Storm]

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will often wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
~Rudyard Kipling.

64th Day of Summer

A cup slammed firmly on Logan's table and he nearly jumped in confusion. It was a man who had been sitting next to him that made the action. The man's face was red, and he looked to be swaying within his seat. Already, from the sight of him, Logan could tell that this man was fully intoxicated.

He sighed. "You're a troublesome client, you know that?" Logan said to the man who now looked like he was ready to pass out. The man looked at Logan with drowsy disdain, then spoke with the slur only someone truly inebriated would have.

"Sh-h-h-h-hurt up! Ah-h-h ain't drunk!" The man said to him. Logan replied- "I didn't call you drunk, dumb arse! I called you troublesome!"

His client sobbed- "Logun wh-h-hy did sheee leeeave meee!" Logan looked at the man confusedly. "Pardon?" He asked his client to repeat again. In that instant his client jumped within his chair and yelled to the top of his lung, "MAH WOMAN LOGUN! My womeeen."

Logan was still confused. "What about your woma-eeeeen?"

"Deey leeft meeeh. Deey got mah moneeey, deeen deey leeft! Leeft mee wid nut'in but mah job. Dey so evil, Logun-"

"The name is Lo-gan," he corrected.

"Listeen to meee Logun, ah-h-h knnnow yeer name."

"Alright buddy, it's time for you to take a nap," Logan said then stood up promptly to punch his client in the face. The man's head slammed on the table where he would more-than-likely lie for the remainder of the night. Logan huffed a big breath of air as he sat down, a little woozy himself from the amount of drinks he just had.

One, two, three, he counted as he looked at the amount of empty cups that were on his table. There were a lot, more than six between him and his client. He cursed himself for getting very drunk on the job but then remembered where he was. "Syliras! Where people shit in their pants in fear for the Syliran knights because they crushed a rose in a shitty garden!"

It sickened Logan to think of the word Syliran knight. So much so that he spat to the floor whenever the word Syliran and Knight came up in his head. The very idea of the knights made him want to throw up; however, Logan could never do such or think of such a thing in front of them. "That's because they suck so much of their superiors cock that they have to kill guys like me to make themselves feel better..." Logan said to himself.

Before his thoughts could be further indulged by himself, a waitress of the stallion had brought him over two more drinks, which Logan realized must have been his clients doing. Logan took one of the small cup of wine and gulped it down as he watched the waitresses protuberant buttocks sway up and down and away from him. When he realized that he was staring, he came to a conclusion on what he would do while his client slept. "I'm gonna enjoy some fine arse," he said, still watching the waitresses beautiful rear end.

Logan dug inside his clients pocket to pull out a large amount of change and place it on the table. "Drinks are on you," he said to his client who was now snoring. Logan then proceeded to dig into his clients pocket again to fetch out a good amount of gold Miza's for himself. "And these are gonna be for my fine arse."

Logan stood up once more. However, finding that this time he was a little too drunk to rise as quickly as he did before, he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, making a large "oof" sound as he fell.

[Asen]

Asen, being her 'determined' self, had spent the whole day training -- if you could even call it that. It mostly consisted of her either staring at the target dummy, hacking away at it with a halfspear, or watching the other squires and their knights with the spearhead clasped in her hand while it slowly cut into her skin.

Tiny, accidental lacerations had made their home in the creases in her left fingers, spreading up towards her wrist and forearm where the expanded into deliberate slices covered by the sleeve of her jacket. Barely visible was the cluster of bold red feathers bursting from her wrist, a physical token of the memory of the Chaktawe she'd encountered mid-spring. What was his name? Oh, yeah. Rhov.

Coincidentally enough the same place she'd met him was where she sat now, nursing a half-empty mug of some drink she'd ordered and subsequently forgotten the name of. Was it ale or beer? Did it matter? Of course not. It was her first drink of the night and she was sore. Sore enough to snap at anyone who talked to her aside from the barmaids.

The half-Dhani heard the thump of a body, followed shortly by an 'oof' that failed to interest her very much, though she still turned her head to look out of habit. On the ground lay a young man, probably in his twenties from what little she could see of his face. Not a Syliran, she could tell by the way he felt. He didn't blend in with the crowd very well, not in the way someone who'd live in the city a while did.

Black hair, tanned and well-built. A foreigner, unless he resided near the Mithryn Outpost -- but what would someone from there be doing in Syliras getting drunk? His appearance and her conclusion piqued her interest. She nudged him with a foot, seeing if he would roll over. If he caused any trouble then he'd be escorted out by the resident retired knight and that would be the end of it.

"'Ey, you alright? Y'seem a little tipsy," she muttered. The blonde prodded him further with her foot, weighing the pros and cons of outright kicking him in the stomach. It would probably end badly for her and she was too tired to go through the trouble of doing anything other than poke him.

"Get up, pretty boy," hissed the squire, now poking and prodding him with both feet. A tiny giggled slipped out of her, the painful stretch of a smile reminding her of just how long it'd been since she'd last laughed. Too long, too long indeed.

[Logan Storm]

Where was Logan now? He had lost his disposition and was now regaining it; though, with a few troublesome details being lost. Logan saw a bar and people, and instantly thought that he was back at the drunken fish. Even though it looked different, smelled different, and even had different sorts of people, Logan threw away the theory of being anywhere else with a laugh.

Of course I'm in the drunken fish, he thought. Where in the blue hell else would I be?

Logan was about to get up when he realized that a boy in a woman's jacket was kicking him and laughing. Is he teasing me? Logan wondered, thinking about how he would be able to handle this new disrespectful problem.

There was something funny about alcohol and what it did to the human minds. It allowed Logan to relax a little and not fully think on the actions he wanted to take. So, when the boy giggled like a little girl, Logan acted on only his whim.

He hopped up to his feet, staggering a little as he did so. When he gathered himself and made sure he could stand straight, his eyes turned to the boy with light brown fury. Instantly, Logan lunged at the boy with full intent on knocking him down to the floor. If his first attack worked, Logan would straddle the boys body and place his forearm into the boy's neck roughly. Logan had no intentions on harming the little boy fully, but he was definitely going to cause some bruises.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Logan demanded to know when he would find the boy fully submissive to his strength.

[Asen]

Asen hadn't expected the stranger to attack her. Like any drunk person he was wobbly on his feet. Like any drunk person, he looked at the person who was poking him. Unlike any drunk person, however, there was a rage in his eyes that she didn't see until it was too late.

Her back hit the floor and she let out a grunt of pain. She grasped at the stranger's clothes to try and pull herself up, but an arm to her throat pushed her down. Her fingers locked around the man's wrist and she bared her teeth at him with a growl.

"D'you wanna get kicked outta here, dumbass?" she snapped, completely disregarding his question. "'Cause if you do, then keep goin'. Otherwise you'd better keep your hands offa me."

Naturally she wasn't a very intimidating person, being rather scrawny and whatnot, but she knew her way around a barfight and there were already several things within reach that could be used as an impromptu weapon.

The blonde could hear nervous customers watching and waiting for them to take this fight further, wondering if they should call Kevith to break it up before it worsened. The tension was almost palpable, now that she wasn't backing down, and it was affecting the other people in the tavern.

Asen mentally gathered up every scrap of serpentine inheritance she had and threw it at the man holding her down. She narrowed her eyes and hardened her gaze, digging her nails into his skin. "Get. Off me. Now."

[Logan Storm]

"D'you wanna get kicked outta here, dumbass?" The boy hissed. Logan shook his head in confusion and tried to understand what this boy went on about. The drunken fish hardly ever kicked people out of their bar. The owners were smart and knew that disrupting a fight would mean their death. Yet, even though this was all true, the boy continued with his girly threat. "Cause if you do, then keep goin'. Otherwise you'd better keep your hands offa me."

Logan laughed at the boy, then began to look around the bar at the onlookers. It was deathly quiet for some reason. Normally in the drunken fish there would be at least a few people happy to see some action. Some would yell for Logan to teach this boy a lesson, or place bets on which person would win this small brawl. Instead of excited faces, Logan saw shocked expressions. They did not place bets, they worried for their safety. They judged him and hated him for disturbing their peaceful day, and some were even afraid of him.

It was then that Logan realized that these were not Logan's people, and he was not in Sunberth. He sighed at his own forgetfulness and quickly corrected himself before some unwanted attention was brought to him.

Logan stood up quickly and dusted himself off before offering his hand to the thinner lad to help him off the ground. "I'm sorry, guy," Logan apologized. "I didn't mean to lash out at you, there. How about I buy you a drink?"

[Asen]

The man was obviously drunk, and he was probably confused. He seemed to not understand Asen's caution, instead taking it as a challenge. She stared him down until he realized what was going on. He could get kicked out of the bar whenever he wanted, but there was no petching way she was going with him.

When the stranger finally came to his senses and stood, she sat up and rubbed her throat gently. He was awfully rough for a foreigner, and far too confident. She ignored the hand extended to her and got to her feet, fingers seeking out the oak tree pendant that hung around her neck. She tucked it into her shirt and rolled up her sleeves, taking a seat at her table again.

"Yeah, whatever. Maybe you ought to not drink so much next time an' be a bit nicer to folks when you en't from 'round here," she snapped, turning her back to the stranger. She was grasping for her mug when she noticed it was gone -- or more specifically, knocked over to the side of the table opposite her.

"I had a goddamn drink 'til you showed up an' decided to try an' pick a fight. Show a bit o' respect. Oh, an' I en't a guy."

The half-Dhani's brief rush of adrenaline had worn off and the soreness in her limbs was returning. Her muscles gave a groan as she motioned for a barmaid. "I'll have two dark beers, an' it's on him," she said, nodding at the man. If he was going to buy her a drink, he was going to buy her two. One for trying to pick a fight and one for knocking over her mug.

Talk about rude.

[Logan Storm]

The boy did not accept Logan's hand when he offered it. Instead the boy stood up on his own, obviously in a little pain from what Logan had done. He could tell in the way the boy simply carried himself that he was bruised all over. Logan almost had the notion to ask the boy if he was alright, but he feared he may slap the boy for any rude remark. He needn't get thrown out of a bar for just teaching a child some manners.

"Yeah, whatever," The boy said as he sat down in his original seat. "Maybe you ought to not drink so much next time an' be a bit nicer to folks when you en't from 'round here."

This is a sassy boy, Logan thought, staring at him with a look that said he wanted to slap away the rudeness. His hands were on his hips, which was where it could only be until he at least left this city. Then his hands would be able to slap, punch, and ball punch any man near him.

The young one reached for the air, noticed that nothing was there, then turned to Logan with anger that seemed to match his own. "I had a goddamn drink 'til you showed up an' decided to try an' pick a fight. Show a bit o' respect," he spat. "Oh, an' I en't a guy."

Suddenly, Logan's face turned from angered to devious. As he stared at the boy, he seemed to notice how more feminine the kid appeared. So he was a she, only with no breasts and a little of an arse. Logan seemed to find delight in that; in fact, he was beginning to grin from ear to ear like a little wet nursed boy.

As the girl ordered two beers, Logan pulled up a seat next to her and said to the bar maiden, "She only needs one beer, and me a cup of water." Logan's eyes turned back to the girl, "I am not made of money, and do not wished to be treated as I am."

He leaned close to her. "Besides, is it my fault that you are so weak? Look at you with stubby arms and a tiny boyish figure. You are either a man, or you are a woman. Have fire like a man all you want to, but you will always be built like a woman."

He leaned away, still with that boyish grin of his, only turning devious once this woman showed her anger. "If you think I am wrong then prove it to me. I am always up for a challenge, be it boy or girl."

[Asen]

The close proximity of the stranger set Asen's teeth on edge, and his degrading words and tone even more so. However, it also made her heart heavy. Was she really that weak? Despite knowing that she was long-limbed and tall, the man really got under her skin.

Speaking of skin, she noticed that the self-inflicted injuries on her left arm were clearly visible. She tugged only that sleeve down to cover them. "You need to watch your words, stranger. There're plenty who disagree. I might look a bit scrawny, but I'll bet I could beat you in a fight -- an' as much as I'd like to beat the shyke outta your sorry carcass I en't about to be kicked outta here for startin' nothin'."

She took the mug of beer from the barmaid with a smile, but it was one that soured the moment the woman left and she was left alone with the stranger again. The half-Dhani whipped her head around to fix the man with a glare. "You're tellin' me to be a woman when you're hardly a man. Once you've lived as long as I have, you can start talkin' shyke and flap your gums all you like. 'Til then, keep your trap shut."

There was so much more she wanted to say. Men weren't the only ones who could have fire, and she was determined to prove him wrong; however, that had to wait until they were out of the Stallion and somewhere they wouldn't be seen. As much as she liked to fight, she was learning when not to. This was one of those times.

More than anything, though, she wanted this man gone. She wanted him to leave, or at least try to start a brawl with someone else. The blonde almost brought her limbs in closer, trying to shy away from him, but instead she draped them across the chair and put one foot up on the table. She hoped it would deter him from making further conversation, but she doubted it.

[Logan Storm]

"You need to watch your words, stranger," the woman shot back.
"There're plenty who disagree. I might look a bit scrawny, but I'll bet I could beat you in a fight -- an' as much as I'd like to beat the shyke outta your sorry carcass I en't about to be kicked outta here for startin' nothin'."

The maid came and placed the mug near the woman and the glass of water near Logan. He listened to this woman attentively, but all he could hear was her being cowardice. He refused to believe that anyone who wanted to punch Logan's teeth out would make getting kicked out of this bar an excuse. Logan would at least take the fight outside and settle things there. Of course, there was the risk of having the Syliran knights get into the mix of their dual. maybe the woman didn't really want trouble, maybe she was afraid to fight him, or maybe she was just too tired to make effort to fight him.

"You're tellin' me to be a woman when you're hardly a man. Once you've lived as long as I have, you can start talkin' shyke and flap your gums all you like. 'Til then, keep your trap shut," the woman continued.

She was a spit fire, that was for sure. If she was a real gentlemen, Logan would have taken her outside and dealt with her a chime ago. But she was a woman, a gender that Logan swore to love and treat rightly, so all he could do was sit there and contemplate if it would be a sin to try to hurt her.

He laughed. "You're like a hen, you know," he said to her. "Do refrain from screaming out the ears of a coyote. They tend to bite." He gave a cheeky smile. He then took the glass of water and sipped it, slowly turning back to his sober state. Drinking in Syliras was a bad idea, but it wasn't as bad as getting drunk in Sunberth. The latter was actually a death sentence. "What's your name anyway? And what the heck do you mean by 'lived as long as me'?"

[Asen]

It was all she could do to not smash her mug over the man's head and start beating him into the ground. For a moment Asen though she cracked a tooth, she was gritting her teeth so hard. Her fingernails dug into her palm, the pain bringing clarity.

Don't yell. It's what he wants. Don't give 'im the pleasure of pissin' you off. Keep your damn head, woman.

As much as she wanted to wring his sorry neck, she held her tongue. Mostly. Her jaw unclenched and her fingers opened. She could taste blood; she'd bitten her cheek on accident. "You wanna know my name after you've insulted me twice? Three times? Talk about bein' an asshole."

The half-Dhani took a very slow, very calculated sip of her drink. Should she be an asshole back? Well, that was kind of a rhetorical question. His attitude towards her certainly warranted it. "Sessaschenaasen. That's my name. An' what the petch do you think I mean by 'lived as long as me'? I mean exactly that."

Snippy? Yes. To be expected? Of course. A little vague? Well, yeah. She wanted to make him feel stupid -- stupider, that is, if it was even possible. He was already a sack of barely-sentient meat, and he only just managed to waggle his pathetic limbs to survive. How much worse could he get?

She set down her beer and allowed her eyebrows to shoot up in feigned realization. "Ohh! You mean to ask me just how old I am! Well, en't it obvious? Fifty-seven years old."

It was then her hand lifted to gently touch the crow's feet beside her left eye. She wondered if anyone noticed them and thought they were odd, or if they thought they were simply smile lines. She might look young, but she was an old lady. Her joints sometimes stiffened and creaked -- especially in the mornings -- despite her athleticism and training and she occasionally found a few silvery hairs hidden in the gold. Props to her father for picking a human to bear his halfbreed child instead of a longer-lived race.