Dinner for one, always room for two (open)

[Aurelia Whitethorn]

Day 56, Spring of 511 A.V. at The Rearing Stallion Tavern

Perched atop a wooden stool at the bar with brown-booted feet dangling several inches from the floor, the young woman absentmindedly twirled a lock of golden hair around her left index finger – a habit that her genteel mother had frequently scolded her for. Her ocean blue eyes followed the shiny tendril’s journey around her slender digit, which had begun at the middle and made its rounds towards the end of her dirt-crusted nail. Blood, the squire indifferently noted amidst the heterogeneous speckles. There was a time when such a sight would have incited her mother’s trepidation, but those days had vanished when she had followed in her father’s footsteps and embarked on her journey to become a Syliran Knight. When she was a child, her mother had persistently and overtly steered her towards ladyship time and time again, but Aurelia Whitethorn had always known that her life had not been destined for flowery dresses and unblemished limbs. Her mother had realized that as well after the hundredth time that Aurelia had returned home with scraped and bloodied knees.

Reaching backward, the young woman tossed her blonde curls over her shoulders and stared at the reflective glass of wine set before her. She saw her mother’s face in its nearest facet looking back at her. Arabella Whitethorn’s beauty had been legendary throughout the four corners of Syliras. Proper and well-behaved, she had been the perfect complement to a dutiful Syliran Knight, Aurelia’s father. A forlorn sigh escaped from the young squire’s lips as she remembered her parents. With her father stationed at the Evantide Tower and her mother having joined him, their parental concerns had been welcomingly less abundant, but so too had their much-desired company.

Aurelia turned her head and regarded the other patrons in the tavern, most of them in the presence of cherished friends, family, and comrades. Unlike them, she had none this night. Her only companion was the glass of wine in front of her, and even it was beginning to turn on her. A flood of warmth slowly infiltrated her forehead and fair cheeks, coloring them faint red. It was not a sensation that Aurelia was wholly unaccustomed to, but it was nevertheless one that she had battled against frequently whenever she drank, which was more often than not consequent of the tavern’s inconvenient lack of non-alcoholic beverages.

Thrusting her left elbow onto the bar counter, the girl braced her warm cheek against the inside of her upraised palm and continued to stare into the crowd, her golden tresses occasionally tumbling across her envious gaze. She admired their smiling faces, faces that testified to happiness and a sense of belonging, two things that the girl intensely longed for. Drawing the wineglass to her lips and sipping away a miniscule portion of its grape-colored contents, Aurelia sat like she did every night after training with her mentor, and she watched as usual, always dreaming of her family and her home.

ooc: Please let me know if I did something wrong or if you have any advice for me. This is my first time creating an “Open” thread. I hope you enjoy!

[Taryn]

Taryn had lately made a habit of frequenting taverns and other such places where humans lingered. One of these particular haunts was the Rearing Stallion Tavern. There tended to be many different kinds of people present, for many different places, in the tavern-- lots of humans liked to drink, for reasons unbenounced to Taryn. As a clay-eater, he knew nothing of getting drunk, but it was always interesting to spectate, and it was always educational.

He often came on his own, mostly because the Pycons he was associated with were unaccustomed to coming to taverns, were put-off by the presence of drunken humans. When inebriated, they were less likely to watch their steps, and thereby more likely to step on Pycons that happened to be under-foot. It was a risk that Taryn was willing to take.

The young Pycon entered through the door, keeping to the side as two, rather drunken young men stumbled out, leaving a perfume of alcohol behind them. Taryn smirked-- let the games begin. He darted for the bar, weaving around the feet of patrons and legs of chairs. He stopped, to take in his surroundings. For him, the bar was no-man's land. The most drunken customers lingered there, which meant that the most dangerous customers also lingered there. Taryn looked at the patrons, sizing up the most drunk, and the most dangerous.

His sculpted eyes spied a lone, beautiful young woman lingering by the bar. She teased a glass of wine, watching other patrons, yet didn't engage anyone. Taryn couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong with her. Heartbreak? Or some other reason for pensive? Whatever the reason, he was going to be there.

Heart full of chivalrous concern, he crossed the floor and ran to the far end of the bar, towards an unoccupied stool. It was an old stool, with plenty of wear and tear, providing for Taryn plenty of handholds and footholds. Taryn clambered up the leg of the chair, scurrying up it in a squirrel-like fashion. When he reached the seat, he stood. He moved closer to the bar, and when he was in proximity of the table, he leapt for the bar, grasping it with his tiny hands. In a much practiced way, he swung himself onto the bar, and righted himself.

Taryn cautiously approached the woman, whose eyes seemed focused on nothing in particular. Taryn took the opportunity to adjust his scarf, which still trailed on the floor behind him, and run a hand through his ceramic hair.

"Miss?" Taryn inquired in a crisp, loud voice, "Miss, is anything the matter?"

[Aurelia Whitethorn]

Her gaze was seemingly lost in the wineglass’s crystalline contours, the curving rim’s edge gleaming in the tavern’s dim candlelight. It was not the cup, however, that was the target of her concentration, but rather, the diminishing dark liquid that swirled within it. She mentally estimated the number of sips that it would take for her to drain the potent wine, a feat that she was growing surprisingly adept at after frequenting the tavern several times a week. Her present evaluation indicated that she was almost done, a welcomed revelation in light of her throbbing temples and flushed cheeks.

Massaging the wineglass’s narrow spine with her index finger and thumb, she prepared to lift it for another sip when her ice-hued orbs swam towards an unexpected movement on the counter. At first glance, she attributed the oddity to her woozy head and blurred vision. Tiny, gray-skinned men simply did not clamber up empty stools and frolic across bar counters – at least, not when her mind was free from the shackles of alcoholic influence. She giggled to herself and touched the glass’s rim to her mouth, tilting it upward to dispense a small portion of wine past her lips. Squeezing her eyes tightly together as the liquor flowed down her throat and elicited another prolonged shiver, she quickly opened them to find…

…a tiny man standing right in front of her on the bar top.

Her eyelids fluttered wide in astonishment at the unexpected sight. She could feel the remnants of wine in her mouth climbing back out as she coughed in surprise, but even though she was partially inebriated, Aurelia had enough presence of mind to thrust her forearm in front of her and contain what could have been an unfortunate blast of spittle and wine at the diminutive creature’s face. All of a sudden, she could feel her senses return consequent of the unanticipated adrenaline rush. It was not exactly how she imagined her liquor-induced nausea would be remedied, but she was grateful for the makeshift cure nevertheless.

“I-” She lowered her arm slowly and leaned forward, her widened gaze conveying her lingering intrigue. After batting away several blonde locks that had tumbled over her eyes to clear her line of sight, she smiled when she spotted the adorable little scarf tied around the small man’s neck. He looked like something fashioned from the earth, and it was only after Aurelia reflected on her initial observation and upbringing that she recalled what it was that amiably greeted her, although she had never personally met one before.

“I’m really sorry,” she apologized for her startled reaction, planting a small hand against her warm cheek and frowning when she realized that her face was probably redder than an Inarta’s hair. She stole a guilty glance towards the nearly empty wineglass before looking back to the kindly Pycon. “You caught me by surprise. I was-” Admiring what I don’t have, she glumly thought to herself. “-I think I drank a little too much.” She laughed embarrassedly.

She wore her smile long after the partially untrue explanation, her mood suddenly brightening in the miniature creature’s company. His visitation had been far from expected, but it was more than welcomed on her lonely night. “How rude of me. My name is Aurelia, Aurelia Whitethorn,” she introduced herself, extending her right hand politely to the adolescent-looking creature. While she tried not to stare, it was difficult as she was absolutely fascinated with his endearing features. “May I have your name as well?”

[Taryn]

The lady giggled at the sight of him and took another sip of wine, probably fancying Taryn to be some drunken hallucination. When she looked back down and saw that he was still standing there, she coughed in surprise, nearly showering Taryn with wine. Taryn flinched precautionarily, covering his head to protect against both the spray of wine and the womans swinging arm. Well, that was by far the most dramatic reaction he'd recieved thus for. She calmed herself, and Taryn hesitantly gradually rose out of the protective stance, his brows arched in alarm and eyes as wide as saucers. The woman looked just as alarmed, her eyes also quite wide, and she hesitantly attempted speech.

"I-" she began. She began to fix her hair, before fixing Taryn with a stare. He knew that look all too well. It was the "what am I seeing, and is it really there?" look.

"I'm not a hallucination, miss," he clarified quickly.

“I’m really sorry. You caught me by surprise. I was-- I think I drank too much." And then she laughed. She had the reddened face and the goofy laugh, so it'd be safe to say that, yeah, she might have had too much to drink. Taryn quirked a little smile at her apology, watching as she touched her cheek in embarrassment and stared pointedly at the glass.

"It's quite alright," he replied chipperly, rocking on the balls of his feet, "I just found it uncommon for a woman such as yourself to be unaccompanied in a tavern. Even if you came alone, you-- well, it's uncommon for a woman such as yourself to be alone, Miss. So, I came over."

He was obviously stumbling over his words. She was, after all, very pretty. The lady proffered a hand, introducing herself with a, "How rude of me. My name is Aurelia, Aurelia Whitethorn. May I have your name as well?"

Taryn felt as if he was glowing, for he already liked this woman very well. Being as small as he was, he could not comfortably take her entire hand, but a few of her fingers. He graciously took her index and middle finger with a faint, "My lady," and kissed them once. Yes, Taryn was positively taken by this women.

"My name is Taryn, Miss," he replied, releasing her hand and dipping his head low in a bow, "Just Taryn. Lovely to make your acquaintance." He may have been tiny, but he knew how to speak to a lady. Even a particularly inebriated one.

[Aurelia Whitethorn]

She felt the warmth rush to her already-flushed cheeks again, only it was because of her embarrassment this time and not the wine. Although the polite little man innocuously corrected her earlier misperception, Aurelia feared that she had inadvertently offended the chivalrous Pycon. “I know you’re not,” the young woman honestly replied, her lips curling in an appreciative smile at the diminutive fellow’s gentleness. She was grateful that he had not decided to make a fool of her in her half-inebriated state. Gods, her head continued to spin in the aftermath of that last treacherous sip.

Her concerns were addressed a moment later when the adorable Pycon shot her a magnanimous smile, one that informed her that any offense that her dramatic reaction might have caused was no longer being held against her, if it ever had been at all. “A woman such as myself?” Aurelia’s ocean-colored eyes widened slightly at the remark, not entirely sure how to interpret the phraseology. She was able to deduce from his kindly tone that whatever he meant was not intended to offend, but his thoughtfulness in visiting her did not escape her attention.

Her expression softened. “You’re quite the gentleman. Thank you,” She warmly said, a flash of white showing where her lips fanned into a wide smile. The young woman secretly watched the Pycon rock forward and backward on the balls of his feet, an adorable mannerism that made her want to pluck the tiny man from the table and store him in her pocket to bring home. Having never met a Pycon before, Aurelia had not known what to expect from him, but she supposed that if all Pycons were as polite and well-mannered as the one in front of her, then she absolutely had to find some more of them.

She could barely contain her composure as the diminutive man caught her fingers with his hands and planted a smooth kiss atop them. Her fair-hued countenance was rose-red by the time he withdrew his clay lips from her soft skin. “Y-you sure know how to make a woman feel special, Taryn,” she stammered with a soft laugh, obviously caught off guard by the gesture but flattered all the same.

“Wow,” she sighed in disbelief, propping her elbow onto the table and leaning the side of her head against her upraised hand. Her eyes settled fondly upon the tiny man still standing in front of her. “You made my day, you know that?” She seriously said. “Are you always this thoughtful?” Smiling sincerely, Aurelia’s free hand nudged the wine glass to the side to indicate that she was done drinking. It seemed that she had no longer had any reason to bury her nostalgia in wine this night.

[Taryn]

Fortunately for Aurelia, Taryn was simply a good deal more patient with women, than he was with men. Generally. Usually because the ladies were apologetic when such reactions had occurred, and men tended to think that accidentally showering a Pycon with wine was pretty damn funny. That was usually how it happened, so Taryn was usually less patient with men. Unless, that is, they proved otherwise.

He had meant to say that a pretty women should never, nor would ever, be left at a bar by herself. A sober man such as Taryn, nay, even a man that was plastered beyond repair, would have noticed her and come over to talk with her, yet she had been on her own.

She called him a gentleman, told him that he knew how to make a woman feel special. Yup, Taryn knew he was glowing now. It was so nice to have someone treating him at the same level as a normal human being, and it was so nice to be getting this sort of attention. Attention that didn't revolve around the fact that he was five-and-a-half inches tall, or made out of clay. He was just a charming little guy who could treat a lady right.

"Thank you, Miss Aurelia," he replied simply, toying with his scarf. The lady went on, though, telling him how he'd made her day, and asking him if he was always this thoughtful.

"I'm honored, Miss Aurelia," Taryn squeaked, his voice so tight with excitement that it almost dipped out of the audible range, below the clamor of the tavern. He truthfully replied, "I try to be." He looked around, spied a small, long splinter of wood that was about the length of his arm, peeling off the table. He retrieved it, and held it like a sword, as he continued, "You see, one day, I'm going to be a knight errant. And a knight should try to be thoughtful."

At this, he puffed his chest out, and began to swing the splinter around as if to sword fight. This, of course, looked nothing like actually wielding a sword, but it was worth the effort. He added on, "And a whole bunch of other things, too, but thoughtful's one of them, Miss Aurelia. Even if a man isn't a knight, he should still try and be thoughtful." He paused in his fake sword-fighting, turning his unblinking gaze to her, "Don't you agree?"