Ale Ran Like Ink

[Nixie]

Timestamp: __ Fall, 512 AV. Some time late evening.

Little more than a few days had passed since Nixies arrival in Ravok. The cities streets were still fresh and confusing to the outsider and even the people that filled them had a mysterious air she couldn't quite place. Perhaps it was something beyond the people themselves, something more... ominous? Could it have been the adoration, hate, or fear that they held for the one called Rysol? For now she wouldn't concern herself with the cities religious figures though; first she needed a place to stay and maybe some food. If she were so inclined to, she could have followed her traveling companions, but after spending so much time on the road together she figured they might have wanted some time apart, even if it was only a temporary parting. So down unknown roads Nixie wandered in search of lodging and food. There were a few taverns that had drawn her attention so far, but really only one seemed promising. This one was rather lively at the late hour, which left her wondering how busy it was in early evening. Maybe it was good food that brought the people here? Hopefully.

Warily, Nixie climbed up to the front door with loud steps, their noise resounded through the porches planks in passing. When she stilled at the door for an instant the floor creaked in the lean of a bowed shoulder against one of the doors while entering. Taking a moment to examine that evenings patrons before venturing further. As she could have assumed from the voices she heard before ever opening the door, it was lively inside. She couldn't have expect much less though, given the sun had sunk below the horizon and its light had been replaced by the moons glow. But to her delight only a small number of the guests spared her glances before returning to their own conversations and business, the rest payed her no mind at all. Once curious eyes quit their spying, Nixie weaved her way through groups of chairs and tables and people with uncharacteristically careful steps to a table that sat vacant and away from the bulk of the evenings crowds. It wasn't perfect by her standards, but it was satisfactory.

Pulling out a chair, Nixie allowed the legs to scrap across the wooden floor and announce her presence only to those in close vicinity. The harsh noise forcing her to wince at her lack of grace when a head turned to glance back at her. The eyes only lingered a moment before turning back to their own conversation though. And when they did she released a held breathe and plopped down into the chair. But before her arse was seated for more than a few ticks she drew out a pipe and tin to start packing a fresh bowl. It was something of an instinct of hers when it came to situations like this. Where there were many people to be found, if Nixie was there it was with a pipe at her lips. But if she hadn't been so fixated on that apparatus, she might have noticed the mop of platinum moving about the tavern. But then she might have also noticed the odd glances a few patrons threw at her from over hunched shoulders between banter.

oocSo... This is my first post in a while so I'm probably a bit rusty (forgive me? >.>)... I figured starting something fresh would be a good way to try and get back into the swing of things... My replies will be very slow sadly... But hopefully I'll still get them done in a timely manor. I know some of you have been waiting for a very long time for replies from me, or even to finish up threads from seasons past. x.x... Sorry! >_<

[Amatus]

The night was ripe. Amatus had found sleep best found during the sunrise hours before the drink was flowing at a steady pace, keeping the bartender's hands busy, and his mouth at work. The humid room was affected by the swing of the unfastening door as customers would come or go. A biting draft would drift in until it was only but a trickle as it swept across his face. He had made a routine to look up every so often, to draw his attention away from his entertaining act toward the prospect of what may be promenading through the door subsequently. The groan of the unoiled hinges would reach him first, then the insignificant puff of clear air. He glanced up, but only caught a mess of long black strands bobbing above the narrow shoulders of the girl entering the bar.

He drew his silvery sights away. "Another?" he asked, plucking a glass with still a quarter of its innards sloshing about to be discarded and replaced.

Glassy wrinkling eyes smiled back at him through a forestry of tangled soaking facial hair. "Sssssuure. Whhhhy not?" his slur was noticeable if the other signs had not been a well enough detector of the man's degree of intoxication, but Amatus was hardly one to cut someone off when their pockets were still podgy.

"And for the lady?" he coaxed bowing his head to a female a few tables down. Her hair was a fleece of rosy ringlets tossed back in a cackle. Her legs propped up over on her stool so the thin fabric of her teal dress sunk between her knees and dipped about her loins.

"What lil' lady?!" the man roared over the sound of his uncooperative tongue, his confusion palpable on his reddening face.

Amatus nodded toward the girl, his hand, wrist deep in a glass with a white cloth, so it could be reused. He leaned closer to the older man, the tips of his mane brushed over the other's sleeve. "She's been eyeing at you all evening."

As if on prompt, the redhead glanced toward the motley pair. Her lips divided with a beam as she found Amatus refunding her gaze. "She appears rather thirsty." he persuaded and pulled away to drag the freshly filled mug into the drunk’s clutches.

The man snorted as if unsurprised by the evidence being brought to his attention and took a hefty swig of his drink. "Ain't no reason not to, I guuuess."

"Great." the expense was taken note of and his hands went to work in conjuring a fresh drink for the lady, which he gladly took himself to her rather occupied table of giggling maids and drunken men.

Bending at the waist from behind her shoulder he offered her the drink upon a clutter of mugs strewn across the table. "Compliments of an admirer."

She flustered, her lids fanning the air with quickened flutters. It took a moment for her to compose herself and reign in the trembling corners of her mouth. "Well I offer my appreciations to the thoughtful man." Her fingers found the tips of his flattened across the table and flicked at them before he drew away abruptly.

"Certainly. Let me know if there is anything I can get you." he hummed against the heated bend of her earlobe.

"Amatus! The bar is slowing, but there are people still waiting on some sort of service." it was a barking order from behind the bar that evoked a vexed growl in his throat.

A laugh rasped free from his taut vocal cords and he left the fidgeting girl alone. He visited several tables, refilling orders and offering idle dialogue and receiving any tips he could thrust into his pockets.

At last he was caught up, barmaids shuffled about the room catching up with what progress he had left in his wake. The creak of the door caught his attention and tauntingly lapped at his chest. He glanced up, the figure obscured behind a few chatting heads as it floated on by and toward a table alone. All he caught was the back of the small boy's waves of chestnut hair slumped in the chair, a smoke stack winding above his head.

He worked his way down toward the table, stealing from a barmaid's tray a filled glass of the silvery ale that the tavern boasted in its name.

"Welcome to the Silver Sliver." he offered glancing over the strangers face with a renewed sense of interest. The features were soft, softer than what he would have expected even with a long pipe balancing between tight pressed lips. He paused for a moment before setting the glass down before the new center of his piqued interest. "The first drink is commendations of the bartender to new customers."

[Nixie]

Puffs of dark smoke escaped through silent lips and the end of her pipe, rising toward the ceiling in thin tendrils. Pushing against the floorboards Nixie sent the chair to balance on it's hind legs, it only marginally teetering when she shifted in the seat. She was comfortable, even delighted, with the isolation the vacant table had provided her. It was something familiar that she sought for in places of unfamiliar things and people. But right now she was hungry. With arms loosely crossed she let her eyes wander a little, trying to find those that she might have been able to order some food from. Preferably somebody who was busy, so that they wouldn't spend too much time trying to impress her with their catering in hopes of a generous tip. Over the tops of heads she saw a few bosomy barmaids hurrying from table to table, keeping the drinks and food flowing. They were exactly what she was hoping for, but it seemed she would be hard pressed to earn their attention with how many customers they already had.

Whilst Nixie searched the throngs of ambiguous bodies, she failed to notice another pair of eyes looking back at her. That was, until the person stood before her with a tankard in hand. Her attention drawn only when words he spoke. She was ready to send him away, believing the stranger to be just another patron of that evening. Plucking the pipe from its perch she cradled it in the upturned palm of a hand.
"This tables taken, go find another," she stated emphatically before turning to glance at the obtruder. Smokey orbs took in the unexpected facade of pale hair and ivory skin against the taverns dull light. Maybe it was the setting or maybe it was the tobacco, but for a moment she thought that she was fine with him being there. Interested even. But with the clank of the glass against the table she was reminded of the situation. A complete stranger had approached her with an apparent offering of some drink. Nixie had a hard time believing that the drink was really for her though. "You must have the wrong table." She always had trouble accepting thing freely given. "Besides, I would much rather have something to eat," and as if on cue, a loud gurgle sounded. Arms crossed again, they had become ridged and clung tightly to herself as if the few words exchanged was enough to become guarded or the pangs of hunger were getting to be too much. "Do you work here? I'm hungry."