Open [The Kelp Bar] Picking fights

[Philomena]

Some of the companions of th drunken brawler shuffled forward to draw him off into a corner. The cord begins to losen. The long odds betters grin, the others grumble. The spectators check their pockets, their purses, etc.

Minnie relaxes, closing hr eyes a moment, then does the same. She pats her bag, then feels at the neckline of her dress, then feels at her hips. Her eyes go lightly wider. Her eyes continue to explore the contours o f her dress. No... Nothing. Her eyes been scanning the floor, and she starts squeezing back toward her abandoned table.

[Daishira]

"Wow," a murmur emerged from Daishira's lips. This was a recurring word in the presence of Weylin.

She had exhausted herself in the bar fight, the brawl, the demonstration of monstrosity. It was not a long fight, it was rather quick and disallowed any time for the Kelvic to respond and assist his Drykas friend. Weylin amazed Daishira here. She had used all her energy, manifesting it in the form of brute force, despite the petite build she retained. A headbutt? Charging the big guy? And then the tankard? She must be more than determined, too determined - Crazy!

He would have helped, but firstly, Weylin had tried telling him before the fight had started again he should flee, like he had last time at the fountain. But this time, it was certain she was a lot worse for wear and Daishira should have been the one protecting her, if not assisting her directly in the fight. Secondly, the fight was all too quick and stunned Daishira. He could not react in time.

To prove that Weylin was crazy, she announced, rather weakly too, "Anyone else? Or are we done now?"

Here, Daishira immediately stepped in, shielding Weylin with his taller frame from the majority of the crowd's eyes, and answered her question but addressed the crowd, "We're done."

Then, he let the rabble discuss their bettings, their sadistic gambling on others' misfortunes, and turned to look down on the even bloodier mess that was Weylin, holding her supportively. It was his turn to be Weylin's guardian angel.

With a subtle shake of the head, Daishira said, "Weylin? We're alright now. You took quite a beating. I'll get you healed up nice and quick, yes?"

His voice was so soothing, as if it held the powers of reverberating throughout her bruised body and healing the wounds itself. Of course, Daishira felt it had to be. His friend here was battered like a hooker who had to face her pimp with no money after not looking slutty enough. So naturally, he assumed the role of carer and if need be, protector. Though he doubted it. Her display of courage left the crowd pretty much speechless but she was still utterly weak. If anyone attempted a pot shot, he would annihilate them. No mercy.

"Weylin?"

[Weylin Quickshot]

It was perhaps for an instant that Weylin heard nothing, the crowd had faded into white, whilst she balanced upon her two feet. Floating in nothing, a void that cast away the senses. She felt tired, weak, her body dully aching, a reminder that the fight was indeed real. A shadow moved before her eyes, a calm, soothing voice, ringing out, before supporting her.
"Weylin? We're alright now-"
Weylin felt her self slump forward, her head spinning as the reality returned to her in a blaze of colour and sound, a roaring of noise into her ears. Her head rested against him, her breathing heavy, as her mind tightened around her senses. The pain was intense, too intense, it numbed the senses, and broke through the normal thinking process. She felt her legs shaking, a sign they were about to give way.
"-You took quiet a beating. I'll get you heal-"
She lost hold of his voice, her mind sinking rapidly. Her fingers gripped onto Daishira, her arms shaking as they lost feeling in them. She needed to sit down, but the effort to drag her trembling form to the chairs was immense.
"-ed up nice and quick, yes?"
Weylin could barely nod, let alone speak any more. She wanted no more pain, she wanted to rest, to gather her thoughts, to be healed.
"Weylin?"

She lurched away from Daishira, the thought breaking through that she had to move, that she had to sit down preferably before she hit the floor. Her hands stretched out before her, touching and feeling the tables, her hands brushing past the patrons, her mind searching for a target. She collapsed into a chair, her body still shaking as the last of the adrenal escaped. Her head rolled back, her eyes turning to narrow slits as she tried to think through the pain. She could still feel her blood, but it did not matter. A rest would sort it all out. She watched the patrons move about, checking coins, exchanging money, a wave of greed covering them all. But Weylin did not care, even with her beaten body, she still did not care. She had no lust for fighting, not like this.

The bar dipped into nothing, the same feeling that held onto her before, a white noise, an empty void. Her eyes slid shut, her brow frowning slightly as she let her mind slip away. It was time to rest, to relax, to simply let the world around her go. The pain lifted, enough to let her sink deeper until there was indeed nothing. And so the Drykas sat in her chair, beaten, but undefeated, with no more knowledge of the outside world reaching her.

[Philomena]

Damn her eyes, why was there no God of Lost Things? She pushed her spectacles high up the bridge of her nose and scanned the ground, half bent over, clutching close her bag. Where was it, where was it?

The crowd was drifting off now, to their tables, more than one table now animated with '..and she took up the mug and BAM!' with appreciative chuckles or whistles. The bartender looked over to the two figures, and looked behind her bar. She whistled to one of the under-boys, and muttered to him. He left, returning a minute later with a bucket of at least not the DIRTIEST slush and snow in the city. The bartender poured a glass of fortified wine - nothing expensive but good and strong. And sent the boy over with it. The boy set it on the table by the Drykas woman, with a vulgar canting accent, "Mistress says wot you'll be wanting to be tending to them mashes. Compliments of the 'ouse, then." Then pulling out a chair for the woman, he scuttles back to the bar. Generosity, after all, only goes so far in a rough tavern.

The woman in the spectacles, in the meantime, now drifts toward her old table, just next to that holding the wine and snow - and a clear barwipe atop it all. And... there it is! Underneath the Drykas table, her parcel! It is a simple, brown paper parcel, about twice the size of a hand, wrapped neatly, and tied with rough twine. She stares hard at it, then at the rough looking people sitting at the table. Oh dear... how to approach politely?

"You..." she looks at the less-battered boy, and frowns, "Do you need a midwife, for him? That about the eyes, looks... bad..."

Yes! Very clever you are, Miss Lefting. Seh sidles closer to the table, foot probing subtly beneath it... can't quite reach... damned short legs.

[Daishira]

Daishira just watched Weylin as she slowly slipped into the world of unconsciousness. There was nothing more he could right now in the middle of a bar but he didn't intend to end his services here. He was about to stand up and haul Weylin outside to his stable, where something could be used to help her, at the very least, stop her terrible bleeding. He only got as far as wrapping her with his jacket, careful not to press too hard on any open wound (which was rather difficult), for warmth during her slumber when he was interrupted. By the screeching woman.

Now Daishira could more easily concentrate on her, he noticed her details. Spectacles, a bag onto which she clutched, rather small (but then again, most women appeared small to Daishira) and a look of what seemed like a mix between nervousness and desperation. Desperation, for what? Why did she come over here? It didn't seem like she wanted to congratulate them, as the skittering boy had done with a free drink on the house. She did not seem like the type of woman who would normally be found in a bar, she looked like an academic, a student perhaps, or a professor. Another thing, she was rather straightforward and to the point, not bothering with even a hello. Even to Daishira's standards of politeness, this was poor. Usually, he would try to appear friendly and playful to a stranger and he thought that politeness is too excessive and only slowed conversation down. This woman though, was just too blunt. They did however, need some form of help, and he was willing to accept hers.

He looked back to Weylin with concern written in the wrinkles formed by his frowning eyebrows. She truly was beaten. Bruises covered her skin, he windmark was now barely recognisable and her face, usually fair in Daishira's eyes, was swollen in several places and needed tending to. Badly.

To answer her question, Daishira replied with a steely look in his eyes but otherwise neutral enough, "Midwife? Sure, what can you offer? And by the way, Weylin isn't a boy, she's a woman."

[Weylin Quickshot]

Nothing, absolutely nothing. The phrase 'out like a light' would no doubt be suitable, for Weylin was indeed gone from all forms of conciousness. She knew not of the words that were shared between the woman and Daishira, she knew not on how badly hurt she was, nor did she know of Daishira's concern for her, for she was indeed out like a light. And whilst Weylin slumbered she did not dream, her mind was too exhausted for such things. So the Drykas remained where she was, her blood trickling down her face, swollen and beaten. Any charms she did have would take a few days to seep out of the swelling, but it did not make her unrecognisable. She would indeed recover in time, and no doubt bounce right back.

For the meanwhile though, Weylin was out cold, with no immediate desire to rise out of it. In the dark of the mind, and the unconscious state there was no aches, there was no pain, and most importantly there was no brawling.


OOCBecause of the nature Weylin is currently in, i.e completely out cold, I'll be stepping out of the thread for a few turns. When I think the time is right I'll leap back in, most likely after Daishira's has posted, and the cycle will restart as it normally. For the meanwhile have fun and try not to kill each other!

[Philomena]

A maid throws a log onto the great hearth, and a burst of smoke spreads drily through the room, pulsing outward from beneath the poorly ventilated chimney. It mixes with the odor of fermented kelp, and the rich cocktail of human bodies and salt stained leather and wool.

The woman with the spectacles peers at the girl on the table. A girl! Odd that. She mused absently about why the creature word work so hard to appear otherwise, with her horseman's stride and cropped hair. She frowned, looking at the hair.

"You know the girl? She hasnt any vermin I hope? You'll have a hard time finding a good midwife if she's verminous, with all the fever that's been spreading - some of the folk say its the lice that spread it. D'you... You are not too rich? You've tended your own scratches before, I hope?"

Bluntness is... The word of first perception. But blunt implied something else, perhaps an insistence that ones own opinion is valuable. Minnie speaks with a certain absent, frowning air, the air of one who thinks out loud too often and at too great length. Peering sidelong under the table (she attempts to be subtle about it, but mostly fails), she reassures herself - its still there! Then she sits down, and takes the bar towel up, dipping it in the strong wine at a corner, "May I?"

[Daishira]

The way Philomena spoke was offensive. Though Daishira was sure she didn't mean it that way, it was direct and lacking in basic manners.

Vermin? Asking about my personal wealth?

Daishira composed himself, just barely lifted an eyebrow as a sign of discontent. Then he spoke out loud, "You should watch who you're calling vermin. Speaking to people like that will get you in more situations like this bar fight, far more often as well. And watch what you're talking about. It's not polite to ask someone such private things."

He realised during his little speech that her attention was focused elsewhere, peering down below the table. Daishira followed her gaze and looked below too, seeing a nice brown piece of paper.

Was this all she came over for? Like a moth to a flame...

Daishira bent over and picked the piece of paper up, scrunching it up a little bit at the corner as he was a little careless and treated it like any other ordinary object. He barely looked at the paper itself, but more at the woman.

"You came here for this?"

[Philomena]

She sighed. Her face had shame in it, yes, the temperamental shame of being caught. But there was something beyond this, something more akin, perhaps, to regret. She stared at the boy, her eyes not falling from his, "That is mine. You may judge me, you're not the first or last, child. But it doesn't change the fact that your friend here needs help, now, one way or another. I assure you, there is nothing in the box you'd want. I think it is clear I cannot take it from you. Perhaps at some point you will tire of lording it over me and give it back."

With this, her eyes do turn down - not to the floor, but to the face of the girl which she begins to dab at. She isn't very good at it - she is clearly no healer. She has more the clumsy hand of an inexperienced mother. But she cleans at the space around the eye, as gently as she can, srewing her mouth up. She turns for a second to gesture to the bar with a hand.

The barkeep calls back, over the din of the bar, "Middie, Doc Lefting?"

Minnie nods back to her, and calls back "Goody Hargreaves is home I think, Dilly." Her accent, as she speaks, falls into a lighter version of the low dialect the bartender and sailors, the tones of, if not a native, at least a regular to the lower sections of town. She keeps working gently at the swollen eye, then puts a bit of snow on it to bring down the swelling.

[Daishira]

Who is she calling child?

The woman, professor, teacher, whatever she called herself, certainly did not come across as the most sociable person in Mizahar. With words like lording and a tone of sarcasm apparent in her sour voice, she contradicted her foul nature by calling for a some alcohol to disinfect Weylin's open injuries. Of course, Daishira knew nothing of how to treat wounds, but she looked like she knew what she was doing. Despite the nouns she was calling him, he was not judgmental of anyone from what they did, only what they are now, in the present. And at the moment, the professor was a labyrinth. The two-faced nature of this woman was very typical in females found in the pure human species.

Bitchy.

That much was true.

Daishira therefore was not sure how to approach her. Was he to be kind, give her the thing she wants and let her attend his friend? Or was he to trust only himself and anyone Weylin would trust and barricade the professor from her? He sat in indecisive silence as she decorated Weylin with some... snow? Confusion was the next expression over the Kelvic's face.

Snow does not have any... medicinal value... does it?

He watched, not moving and making any motion to suggest he was either keeping or giving the item the woman wanted.

"First, what's your name? So you don't have to call me child. Secondly, what on Mizahar are you doing to Weylin? I won't ask what your business with this thing here is," Daishira waved the woman's box, "as I respect other people and their privacy. Respect is something that is lacking in society, don't you think?"

Daishira was not going to let this woman go without telling her something about decent manners. Not a lecture, just something to think about and hopefully change her attitude, so she doesn't end up like his battered friend next to him, with snow around her bleeding eyes.