Open Celebrate, Come On!

[Sosicly Magnolia]

21st of Autumn, 513AV (Early Evening)

When Sosicly had woke that morning she felt no different. Even after a nice morning soak in the Grotto, she just felt lazy. Throughout the rest of the day she had visited her Mother, and allowed her to be pampered in a way that happened only on this day. In fact, it was far more interesting when she woke of age to be done with school, and she couldn't dredge up the same amount of excitement. But it made no difference, she had the distinct pleasure of being given a 'get out of jail free' pass from her mother on this day.

Smiling to herself, Sosicly slipped on her dress and drifted over to her bed to slip out, shoving her Miza, book, quill and ink into her knapsack. She had invitied no one but that was no necessary to events like this. And, as the years Moth Queen she assumed no one would oppose having a drink and giving their congratulations.

Tying her hair in a loose knot, Sosicly slipped out of the house and swung with purpose to the Hunters Gather. Upon entering she found it was filled with its usual and a few others, mostly quite and that was something she intended to end post haste.

Smiling widely she walked to the counter, and gestured wildly to Havier who approached and made a show of looking around her. "No Zith this time?" he asked with ire, though obviously honestly curious.

Sosicly shook her head and dumped a few glittering gold miza on the counter.A total of twenty-six gold, nine silver, and two copper at which the old Sym raised an eyebrow. In response she showed the man her book.

I have turned eighteen today. I will pay for all drinks, and everyone must celebrate.

"Is that so?" she nodded quickly, 32 schnapps, 50 pitchers of mead, 20 pitchers of ale, and 25 glasses of wine.

"An announcement is in order then? Patrons!" His voice was startling loud, and clear, the quiet chatter ceased and all eyes landed on Sosicly and Havier. "Today, curtsey of Sosicly in honor of her birthday celebration, and until her pitchers run dry, your drinks are paid for!"

She swung her arms wide in encouragement, grabbing a pitcher for herself, and plopping herself nearest gambling game.

--

Two bells later, and things were in full swing. Chairs cluttered around tables that had been pushed away to make room for a few other musicians who had come, and for the slightly drunk dancers to twirl about the room. Another space was occupied by people tossing around heated rocks in some painful sounding game of catch.

Others were running from one end of the bar to the other with spoonfuls of Bruka that dripped over the edges. Game of dice, and cards took over the tables along with glasses of schnapps that were key points in some sort of drinking game.

The only people who still seemed completely in control of their facilities where the Ochya who watched with amusement the growing crowd.

LedgerI believe I totaled that out right, let me know if I missed something.

32 Schnapps	1GM.9SM.2CM
50 Pitchers of Mead	10GM
20 Pitchers of Ale	10GM
25 Glasses of Wine	5GM
Total =	26GM.9SM.2CM

[Llyvi]

Llyvi shifted his rear on the intricate silken road, not impressive in its flourishing colours or gargantuan size, but its brilliant complexity. The Symenestra boy ran a finger along the delicate wefts and warps, so fine that he continued to sweep his hand back and forth along the hanging road as his feet dangled over the edge, drunk with hopeless abandon. He was never really afraid of heights. Once or twice he might have entertained the idea of falling, but to worry about it was about as foolish as being afraid of blood—which was, in fact, very, very foolish. He was willing to test the idea, however, wondering if he’d be hit by that bolt of fear that seemed to knock the wind out of you. He had only been known to feel that paralyzing sensation whenever he detected a slight downward curl to his father’s lips. He knew it was a foolish thing to worry about, but he could practically summon accelerated breathing by conjuring the image in his mind. Microscopic hooks extended from his fingers, though he felt nothing, as he lowered himself off of the road and, testing his weight on the cord of silk, he let himself fall until his hands were the only obstacles left between him and a long, winded freefall to his death. It wasn’t very exhilarating. Even if he did manage to fall, he’d only reach out and grab at another road or cord. “Having fun?” asked a woman from above him. His face flushed as he scrambled back onto the road, struggling to keep an impassive expression on his face and willing his brain to come up with something witty to say. Instead, he stared at the smirking woman in open-mouthed silence. “Not . . . particularly,” he managed to breathe. The Symenestra wrinkled her nose. “Well,” she said, “if you’re looking for some fun, why don’t you check out the shebang that’s going on at the Hunters’ Gather? You need it, anyway.” Llyvi watched as the Symenestra woman hurried away, long, frizzy hair swishing behind her. His grip on the silken road tightened. --- When he arrived at the Hunters’ Gather, he was attacked by heat and a deafening cacophony of laughter and merriment. Symenestra men were gathered around tables, snorting and arguing over some gambling game that Llyvi took no interest in and the musicians in the corner of the room hammered away, heads bobbing and feet tapping. What in Mizahar was he doing here? Barely gathering the last of his calm, he decided that he’d attempt to make conversation before fleeing. His figure gingerly wove between the flow and ebb of Symenestra bodies, stepping over feet without a shred of grace. A hand shot out from one of the tables, landing square on Llyvi’s jaw and causing him to stumble to the floor—but not before bringing down somebody else with him. Judging from laughter that rose from the patrons around the table, they’d either done it on purpose or were too drunk to notice that they’d felled a boy. Llyvi winced and rubbed his jaw gingerly. It could hardly be considered a punch, but he could still feel the bruise. Curse his brittle bones. He scrambled off of the girl, his heart ravenous, threatening to break free. She was a pretty thing, with ashy black hair that cascaded over her shoulders, and unnerving red eyes. “Sorry,” he said, eyes wide. He should have left when he had the chance. OOCUm . . . cliché meeting is cliché?

[Viridae Kabre]

Viridae grunted as he wrapped the dead goat's legs tighter around his neck, adjusting his balance so as to avoid falling into the citie's depths. This day was not supposed to be long. He was supposed to bag a deer, maybe snare a rabbit, and be on his way. Instead, He had decided to check his raptor snares, which in turn led him into the mountains, which in turn led him to dahl sheep, which led to him firing a rather horrible shot into one's belly, which meant he spent three hours tracking the damn thing to the hole it had decided to crawl into in preperation of meeting its maker. But who came in Death's stead? Viridae, cranky, gripping his hunting knife. The blood stained white pelt was no good because of the shot's horrible placement. The meat would taste gamey. So instead of selling it at the market, he opted for the hunter's gather, hopping the bar keep would purchase the sad goat to make into a stew. Viridae wanted nothing to do with the beast. He planned on eating the quail stuffed into his hunting jacket.

As he approached, he could hear instantly that the tavern was alight with sound. Much like the Meadow's Feild house when traders arrived, but this surely could not be the case, for encountering anything other than a Symenestra or Zith was nearly unheard of here. With a grunt, he pushed the door open, and nearly dropped the stupid goat in suprise, although his face did not show it.

The Hunter's Gather was alight with celebration, as people danced drunkenly, joked, laughed, and all the other things that he assumed happened at parties. He had not been to many in his life. His first thought, was one of curiousity. He wondered what the occasion was. His seccond was of his sister. She was bound to be here somewhere. She loved parties.

Viridae dropped the goat and dragged it across the floor by one of its horns, trailing blood in its wake. After walking straight through a few crowds of people, he arrived at the bar, and in a moment of morbid humor, sat it at a stool before sitting next to it. Its head fell onto the bar with a thunk, bloddy toungue poking from between its lips. Havier approached him with a cross expression on his face.

"You're sick, Versdadae," He said, retreiving a cloth from beneath the bar.

"Maybe a little. Will you buy this? I'll sell it cheap. I just want it out of my sight."

"Make me an offer," Havier said, making another face at the goat.

"Well it isn't butchered, and the meat is gamey. 50 Silver."

"Are you serious?" Said Havier, raising a brow.

"Just get it out of here," Viridae said, leering at the goat.

After hauling the goat over the bar and dragging it into a back room, Havier returned, a mug of mead in his hand. He placed it on the bar before Viridae, who pushed it away. "Not unless its free."

"Oh but it is. The Moth Queen is celebrating her bithday. You haven't noticed?"

Viridae glanced around a moment before taking the mug in his hands and downing a swig. "Sosicly? She's here? Where is she?"

"Hmmm...." He squinted into the busy crowd, then pointed a long clawed finger to the two who had just toppled to the ground. "She's under Krova. Might want to check on her, I'm not sure how much she's had to drink."

Viridae nodded and approached the two Symenestra, smirking just enough to reveil the tip of one fang. "Well, I see you're enjoying yourselves," He said with a small laugh.

[Sosicly Magnolia]

Sosicly wasn’t sure what the drink was supposed to do, so far the only thing she noted was her head felt like it was soaking in water, and her stomach was almost uncomfortably warm. Rolling her eyes at the nearest jibe about her bad birthday luck she threw her dice a tad harder than necessary, the piece falling to the floor. Her own laughter bubbled up slightly but was cut short when she too ended up sprawled on the floor before coming back harder. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter while the room began to spin. She waved off the apology and looked curiously at the red stain on the floor a few feet away. It was a chime before she realized she was still on the ground and sat up quickly only to fall back in surprise. Her legs were not doing exactly what she expected, neither was her head. When she managed to focus her eyes she seen two Symenestra, one she recognized, and flashed him a wide smile the other she waved closer. Pulling on the table she got up slowly and reached around the table for her book. As she wrote she inspected the person who flattened her. Vaguely familiar which wasn’t surprising but he looked close to her age, like Viridae he had white hair but his eyes were a brilliant gold. Her gaze returned to her book, I’m Sosicly. You name is? Sosicly frowned at the words then tried again, I’m Sosicly. Your name is what? Viridae you playing dice, too? Drinks is are free. It still didn’t looking right but she shrugged and held out the book to both men. A moment later she realized she hadn’t gotten the dice but the gamblers didn’t seem to mind. Playing just as easily with one and without Sosicly so she grabbed a drink and held it out to the newcomer, leaning heavily against the table. With her free hand she got another mug of ale and took a sip, staring curiously at the bit now splash over her hand.

[Viridae Kabre]

Viridae looked to the unfamiliar boy, a little younger than himself, and frowned. They had the same hair color, almost the same style. He braided his bangs back and crossed his eyes, looking up at his forehead. Better. Then he bowed slightly to the boy. "I'm called Viridae," he said, trying his best not to stare at his head.

He then turned to Sosicly, reading the note with a slight smile. "I've never been very good at games, and I don't beleive in luck, Sibealy," He said with a smile, grasping her arm to help her up, then took a seat at the table, setting his mug down before him and folding his legs beneath him on the chair. "Happy Birthday, by the way."

[Llyvi]

The woman on the floor looked a little addled, and under the spell of heavy drink, for the time that she’d spent splayed on the floor was enough to make Llyvi uncomfortable, who eyed the people that stepped over her limp body. Another man had stepped beside the woman, his intimidating presence pricking Llyvi’s pale skin. However, as the woman pulled herself from the liquor-sodden ground and set eyes on the stranger beside Llyvi, her bright red hues flickered with recognition. Llyvi glanced at the man beside him, who stood lean and with his arms folded across his chest. The Symenestra boy shifted his weight from one leg to another, trying not to look uncomfortable. The woman had seemed to gather her bearings, and Llyvi’s curiosity perked when he noticed her scribbling across a fresh sheet of parchment, but had not missed the fact that he’d been ignored, even though he completely missed the clandestine glances the woman threw at him. Shock replaced the sparkle in his golden eyes. He hung his head, studying his black toenails poking out from his light sandals. Llyvi’s head rose when the woman continued to ignore his existence. He knew that she would be vexed, but he had expected at least a few verbal barbs thrown in his direction. He hadn’t expected a hastily constructed question emblazoned onto the page of what looked to be a notebook. Llyvi opened his mouth to respond; his mind was still rearing to catch up with his senses, but the woman—Sosicly—withdrew the notebook, unsatisfied with the sloppy sentence, and wrote something else. Llyvi understood. “L-Llyvi,” he said, tripping over his tongue. He frowned at the unceremonious attempt to answer, and tried again. “Llyvi of the Phlox Web.” Now then. As he was handed a mug of what he suspected to be soporific, he launched another question. “Um. Can't you speak?” he asked, staring down into the contents of his mug with a clear air of uncertainty. He didn’t think it was wise to say he didn’t drink.

[Sosicly Magnolia]

Sosicly nodded her thanks, pulled out her own chair and an extra for Llyvi and patted it for him to sit. When she sat the room stopped wobbling which she was happy about and continued her drink. Surprise was clear on her face at Llyvi’s question and she looked at him wondering if he really could not know or if he was trying to be cute. Her eyes searched his face looking for the lie but all she could see was a nervous looking boy that was actually very familiar but she couldn’t really place him at the moment. Finally she nodded and scribbled out a few more words. You should play try try play. Or dance. Dance soon! She found the harder she tried to write the worse it was, she took another sip of her drink and held out the book floppily. Content Sosicly slapped the book on the table, finished her drink, grabbed a smaller one, a schnapp? A stood grabbing both Viridae’s and Llyvi’s arm in an attempt to drag them over to where people milled about dancing and falling with laughter. Halfway there she saw the game of darts and changed trajectory and headed towards the game. Releasing her two captives she was handed the darts and threw one watching in confusion as it bounced off the wall. A moment later she turned to Viridae and Llyvi handing them each a dart and waving towards the board wobbly. Beside her people began to throw darts at any available spot, stray pieces narrowly missing the walls.

[Viridae Kabre]

Viridae Tilted his head as she wrote, then glanced at Llyvi, then looked back to Sosicly. This was silly. But he was not dipleased, only curious. Viridae had arrived in a sour mood, and the atmosphere in the room was begining to cheer him up, and the drink was most likely contributing as well. He finished his drink and poured ale from a nearby pitcher into his mug, swigging it and savoring its hearty flavor.

When Sosicly pulled them away from the table, he nearly spilled his drink, then stumbled to catch his balance. "Where are we go-" He began and stopped as he saw the dancefloor not far away. "Oh no no no no no no, Not for me, definately not my thing!" He stuttered quickly, then was awash with relief as they approached a game of darts. "This is much more my thing," He said with a grin, taking the dart from her hand. He held it to his face, and imagined it was on a bowstring, pulled his arm back, simulating tention in his mind. When he flung his arm foreward, he imagined a steady release, and the dart flew through the air, sinking close to the center, but not close enough for a bullseye.

"Oh, well. Guess firing a bow and throwing a dart are more diffrent than I thought," He said, swiging down the last of his mug, noting the warmth in his stomache and fuzzyness in his vision. He Grinned at Llyvi, and patted him hard on the back. "You can top that throw easy, Krova."

[Llyvi]

As Sosicly continued to scratch away in her notebook, the revelation struck home, and an odd feeling of familiarity bubbled in his chest as he realized who stood before him. Apologies tingled at the tip of his tongue, eager to explain why he hadn’t recognized the Moth Queen the moment he toppled over her. And it was her birthday. “I—I’m sorry. You are the—” he began, but his sentence was cut off when the Moth Queen slammed her notebook on the table and grabbed his arm, her fingers curling around his thin frame. A flood of self-consciousness overtook him, and he flinched away from her touch. However, he allowed himself to be led away by Sosicly. His eyes widened when he saw her destination, and he couldn’t help it when he tried to pry himself from her vice-like grip. The eyes that sought out the man’s—Viridae’s—help were frantic. “Sibea, I can’t dance!” Even though his protests were tinged with desperation, it couldn’t best the sound of vehement laughter and drunken exchanges. The amount of relief he felt was unparalleled as the pair were led away from the dance floor on the whim of Sosicly, who had taken interest in the darts. The two men were released as Sosicly received a set of darts. Llyvi watched, rubbing his arms, as she attempted to throw one, but the result was abysmal. His eyes followed the dart as it struck the wall and plummeted to the ground. A small smile flashed across his face, but it vanished almost as soon as it had appeared. He shouldn’t judge—he couldn’t do any better. Viridae tried, too, and it sunk into the dart board, not too far from the bulls-eye. He grinned and sauntered over to Llyvi, slapping his back with good cheer and a subtle challenge to best him. Llyvi was certain he couldn’t, and he tried his best to tell him so. “I’ve never thrown before.” But he was egged on by the spectators, who watched, rapt with attention. He stepped up to align himself with the dart board, his hands clammy with sweat. It only served to make the dart slippery and a little more difficult to hold, and he fumbled with it as he tried to remember how Viridae’s stance had looked when he had thrown, and attempted to emulate it. His limbs jutted out awkwardly, looking none too graceful. He shot a worried glance at the Moth Queen, braced himself with a deep breath, and threw. At the same moment, a drunken man with a build that belied the conventional flimsiness of a Symenestra staggered in the path of the dart, which was headed far from the desired target. Llyvi winced before the dart struck home. A man’s howl of pain was drowned out by the blaring wave of sound, but it didn’t stop the man from locking eyes with Llyvi. His eyes were bright from fury. Llyvi stepped backward as the man careened toward him. He looked to Sosicly and Viridae for help. “I told you I couldn’t throw,” he said, eyes pleading. The man didn’t even speak when he picked up Llyvi by the collar, stinking of alcohol. His teeth were clenched, and Llyvi could detect a trickle of blood running down the side of his neck. There was a small hole where the tip had pierced his skin. Llyvi knew what was going to happen before it happened, but he wasn’t prepared for push that sent him spiraling to the ground. To any other race, it couldn't have been a little more than just a slightly aggressive shove. But as a Symenestra, Llyvi lay on the ground, scratching the floor and gasping to collect himself, but his vision was wavering and his breath proved elusive. The dull, throbbing ache spread throughout his body until it was like he couldn't feel anything but pain. OOCI thought I'd pick up the pace with the plot a little. I'm sorry if there was a plot planned already, and will delete it if there are any problems. x|

[Viridae Kabre]

Viridae's jaw dropped as the dart sunk deep into the man's neck. His first reaction was to burst forth with laughter, and he did let a few trill hoots slip, but stopped as he saw the look in the man's face. He was a bit shorter than Viridae, who was tall for their race, but was stalky to compensate, and most likely very drunk.

The man swayed and staggared towards Llyvi, and Viridae's head snapped instantly to Sosicly, knowing she usually had a diplomatic solution, but it was all happening very fast. First he Grasped the spider, then gave him a good one to the face.

The young Versda was curled up on the floor awaiting another blow. Through the entire happening, Viridae was attempting to convince himself he did not care much what happened, but he did. Things were changing within him.

The man stepped foreward, and Viridae snapped, acting on instinct more than anything. He rushed the man from the rear, crawling hand and foot onto his back, and dug two finger from each hand into his mouth, stretching his lips back to his ears. The man pulled and reached back, but This was very close in feeling to an experience he had with a particularly angry elk, and he stayed amount, feet planted flatly beneath the man's shoulder blade.

After a while, the Alcohol was fighting along side the man, and Viridae was flung to the ground. He was not quite sure what was going on, but he had to suppress a light hearted laugh. He lay there and watched the ceiling spin for a long while before attempting to regain his bearing.

OOCNo no no, Its good, its good. You can have the man hit me if you'd like, it'll be more intresting if you retain control over him. Have you ever gotten into a fight drunk? Its happened to me twice, and both times, I lost focus and started laughing in the middle.