Closed The Soirée

[Fallon]

46th Spring 515 AV
Evening

There was a small grunt as Fallon entered through the front door, her mind set on one thing only. Her pack gave the smallest of clinks, the sloshing of some liquid residing within as she made her way through. For the most part the house was silent, absent since the morning and left only to exist. And that was how she wanted it to be - it told her that her partner was absent for the meanwhile. It was such the slither of opportunity that she grasped on for such an event. It was only to be a small affair - least that was the intention. Whether or not that occurred was yet to be revealed. Lowering the bag she continued on through, pulling at her coat and hanging it over the banister she continued to move on through, a low whistle escaping as she checked she truly was alone. Silence, there was nothing more to it. With a clunk she closed the door behind her and begun her work.

Shifting through the living space Fallon begun the process of tidying up, brushing off the stray pieces, bringing the oil lanterns into position and setting them up securely around the room. The small discarded blankets were folded up, the stray footwear tucked away neatly where they belonged. Hands brushed the crumbs off the surfaces, the steps continuing their working as she continued her way round - taking up the broom and focusing on sweeping away what she could. It was only a small operable time she could work within, and so she had to use it to her fullest advantage.

She had sent the invitations out earlier to a select few that were still residing in Zeltiva - it was to be a private gathering and whether or not they would appear was their choice. It was a short notice to them, she had to admit, but she had decided she should at least put in some effort for this day at least. Dragging the arm chair around, she placed it so it was turned towards the couch, her entire form moving once more as she put the other in a similar position, before stepping back to check the space. It was from there she darted out to the kitchen space, ringing out a cloth and wiping down the surfaces. Clean, things had to be clean at least.

Ears gave a twitch when she heard a groan, form freezing when she thought for a moment that there was someone else in the house - but the silence told her otherwise. Sighing, she continued her movement through, happy with the state she had managed to pull the downstairs. Shifting she took the contents left within her bag. It was some ten days earlier that she had placed an order down an order, and while her attention briefly flickered to the finished product in consideration, her own neck twitching with an emptiness that rested there before she turned her gaze away to what she was really there for - wine.

Taking out the two bottles she had purchased from the market she made her move with them, placing them down upon the table. Finding a variety of cups, she placed them down with it and continued her small, focused movements. Firewood and tinder was placed before the hearth, ready to be put to use when the evening chill caressed the city - if need be. Beyond that, she ignited one of the oil lanterns, placing it safely on the table and at last gave an approving nod. Done, for now. Her eyes gave a glance back through the window, lifting it up so it was open a fraction before darting back into the hallway. Bag and coat was hitched up onto her shoulders she darted up the stairs hand rummaging about for the pouch within, before she shoved it firmly into her pocket. Diving into the bedroom she put the coat away, the bag quickly following suit. The unclean layers replaced with clean ones, hair brushed through and brought back so she stood there looking respectable if not casual in dress. With a final tugging off of the gloves and the wiping of the boots she quickly worked her way back down the steps and waited for the fun to begin. Time, it would all begin soon - she just had to be patient and usher the people in as and when they arrived.

Reciept :

Wine, Fine (bottle) x2 - 20gm
Pendant, Silver - 4.5gm
Necklace, Silver - 5gm
Total = 29.5gm

[Noven]

Noven stood in his room at World's End, looking at himself for the first time in years in front of a dusty little mirror. He had gone a long way from the shambled look he'd worn that first day they'd all stumbled off of the ship. Zeltiva was not Sunberth, and it had required just as much patience as it had mizas to not look like a homeless bum in a sea of respectable individuals.

His clothes were still the same, unfortunately. There was little Nov could do about that without aid; he scarcely felt like he was allowed to exist in some of the better parts of this city, let alone waltz into a high end store and demand to be fitted. But at the very least, he had gotten his things washed thoroughly and dunked himself in a proper bath that morning. He'd even managed to borrow a pair of scissors and trim the unseemly growth on his head into something resembling a hair cut.

It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do in such short notice. Life in those last handful of days in the Berth had not been kind. To any of them.

Things were so different here. More different than even Sahova had been. At least on the island, Nov could thrive on a familiar sense of bleakness. He had a job to do as well, a contract to fulfill, and danger lurking around every corner. There wasn't time to worry about anything else. Not to mention the Citadel was as detached from the rest of the world as its troubled visitor. Twas fitting for the mood he had arrived in. That, and the presence of K--

Noven ended that thought before it even truly began. It tended to twist his heart whenever it arose, though not in the same way the rest of his past did. Ghosts still haunted him each night, less viciously than in Sunberth but often enough to keep his memory fresh, and it didn't take the man long to realize that this pain was different. Had a different weigh to it, a rather new and unfamiliar effect. It wasn't even really pain in the sense of a cut or broken bone or wounded emotions. It was more like...a stomach ache. Bearable, and maybe even forgettable now and then, but constant and unrelenting nonetheless.

Fortunately, Nov knew an immediate solution: get himself piss drunk.

Even better, he would be in good company tonight, with plenty of reason to celebrate. Plenty of reason to bury his troubles in stuff less...troubling. With that rather uplifting thought in mind, the man bent to scoop his offerings into his arms and headed out the door. It was still a bit confusing, navigating his way through a new city, but the townhouse Bitzer and Zand shared wasn't far within the Old Quarter. By the time he arrived he was twice as determined to commit himself fully to enjoying the festivities and drinking himself to oblivion. Two, brisk knocks on the door and then anxious silence. Nov shifted the bundles in his hands a bit. It wasn't much but there was a bottle of fine wine and pound of sausaged venison. He hadn't known what else to get One Eye for her special day and figured one couldn't really go wrong with more food. Idly, Nov wondered how many of the others would be making an appearance.

As soon as the door opened, he was ready with his greeting. "Evening, Wolf Girl and company. I've brought gifts. When do we start drinking?"

Receipt :

-10 gm for wine
-3 gm for sausages
= -13 gm total

[Shai]

Leather melded by sweat and long wear felt like freedom. Shai had shed her fine new clothes and her acrobat’s practice vestments. She had taken the time to waltz out of the ancient quarter her gear in her pack. She’d received a few sideways and down from upturned noses when she actually carried her own bag, but it hadn’t stopped her any. As soon as she hit the more common districts no one seemed to care. It was down an alley in the Old Quarter that she finally dawned the night leather and her long-loved black cloak. It was more difficult being suspicious in Zeltiva than in Sunberth, the guards might stop a woman all in black like her.

Still what Shai did, she did well. Slipped between the crowded shadows cast by the buildings in the evening light. Taking alleys and dodging around eyesight with a languid step to avoid attention. She made her away to her next destination, back through the weaving side streets towards the market stalls on the Sailor’s quarters. A cacophony of color and voices greeting her first steps in the impromptu marketplace. Tents, stalls, carts the market was more like a campground for traveling merchants during the day. To those who three more sales could mean the difference, no day could be spared. The Symenestra made herself relatively inconspicuous by slipping through the crowds and only glancing at each stall once. It was a thief trick to assess value at a glance. She wasn’t looking for specific wares but the overall appearance of them… were they worthy of gifting? Besides she had something very specific in mind for her old friend’s party.

Fallon had sent out the invitations and Shai had set immediately to scheming. What was the perfect present for the scheming old wench? It hadn’t been a quick answer. Finally the lithe woman saw her target. Her fingers twitched, she had to remember this was a purchase not a theft. Mostly.

She pointed imperiously at her quarry and the stall tender, a rugged old man passed his best sailing days retrieved them. “Give them a try?” He offered, the good salesman but still suspicious of the Symenestra.

Rolling them around in her palm she nodded, “They will do, but I want another set as well. Just like these except…”

He grunted a laugh and nodded, “Just likes those, except these.” He placed two more in front of her, these had come from beneath the cloth covered stall front, not from the general ware.

Delicate claws flicked the items across the table,once , twice, thrice. She laughed conspiratorily. “Precisely those.” She dropped the mizas asked for each set without quibbling. Tossing the newly found gifts into a button pocket she gave him one last look, “Thanks.” She flicked her eyelashes once in a wink and stepped back into the press of bodies that never seemed to quite touch her.

There was one more destination before the Ladies’ abode. This stall was easier by far too find, just follow the stench of dirty sailor’s. Even the shopkeeper seemed to be imbibing, the line was long but never one for the rules Shai cut right through popping up near the shoulder of the man near the front. He smelled like he was sweating ale, stale and sour. A few years ago the Symenestra might have gagged, now it just kind of smelled like home.

The man shambled forward, “One more hit ooof Sludge Jonsey, for da waves.” He tried look circumspect, Shai guessed, but he just looked like he was in intestinal distress.

“One more and you’ll be in your grave boy, get lost.” The stall keeper answered, shockingly clear. Perhaps his disheveled appearance was for effect.

Sliding up to the front of the line, Shai called out. “A bottle of Sludge.” She called out, her voice far too high and delicate for this sort of crowd.

Jonsey, if that was even his name, gave her a long hard look. “No it’d kill ya. Don’t want the Wave guard on my ass.”

There was no petulance in Shai’s face at the denial; she had expected it. Shai laughed, “If the last port could not kill me this one sure as Hai cannot manage it.” Curling one of the silver-rimmed chips over the back of her knuckles she gave him a snarl, “Last good offer, take the mizas and give me the bottle.” He wanted to treat her like a little girl, she’d give him the woman that could negotiate on Sunberther terms.

“Deddra’s tits” He drawled, “Fine woman its your death take the bottle.” He slammed it down in front of her. Shai threw down the five silvers and took her port swill.

The sun was rapidly reaching the horizon as the widow ducked back through the alley’s. Half way towards the party location, Shai stopped and tugged out the cork on the bottle she’d bought. The stench was immediate and she sneezed. A wicked grin peppered her cheeks, it was perfect. Smelled like what you could dredge out of the puddles behind the Fish, the alcohol stung her eyes. There was a time for class, but she suspected a group of ex-Sunberthian refuges would not find that bell easily. Slammed the cork back into the treacherous bottle.

Snickering to herself she placed the toe of her boot on the proper street. Measured, stalking steps brought her to the residence, quaint really. She headed for the door when she noticed the cracked window, Oh for old times

Chell grumbled back, An utterly unnecessary risk.

It is a party Chell, there will be risk and the reward is a good time. He didn’t reply to her. With a neck-snapped glance to see the street empty she promptly nudged the window open and crawled right on through. “I say we start drinking, five chimes ago.” She answered Noven and held up the suspicious bottle.

receipt :

Mystery Item Set one: 8 sm
Mystery Item Set two: 1.3 gm
Bottle of Sludge: 5 sm

Total: 2.6gm

.

[Zandelia]

She had already managed to force down a cup of Kelp Beer as she sat within the Worlds End Grotto, a corner table in the shadows cast by the flames of the hearths but still possessed of the warmth required for a relaxed stage. The taste had been as terrible as promised, worse perhaps, yet there had been enough alcohol between the salt to make it partially worth the effort of drinking it. Besides, she was not here for recreation, she was watching and listening from her prime choice of a seat. Dressed as she was, trousers and blouse, in simple clothing she was but another wayward sailor, a traveller. She had a dagger in her boot and the broadsword upon her hip but she wouldn't need it, it was just for show. She pulled her eye patch into place, fiddling with the leather idly from her rough wooden chair. Her mark was the man sat opposite her, a table away and facing to her right, enjoying the basking glow of the fire.

“I'm tellin yer, they knows too much lass. Can't be juttin' off afore schedule, have half the navy on our necks” came the terse whisper, the man was clearly stressed and towards breaking point and if the rumours she had been whispered were anywhere near true he had reason to be.

Captian Jacob Mallarky, you've been a very naughty boy. A rich boy, but naughty. Smuggling so they say, even murdering crew members who were too honest for their own good. Very bad man. Still...I have no evidence yet so...could be wrong she thought to herself as she puffed away from her pipe and took in the smoke slowly, savouring it.

“Well you can't stay here, the danny won't be ousted from the work by a cap'n as can't sail when needed. You follow?”

“You gots what yer wanted. Cannae tell me what ta do with me own ship lass. Been good business but I wants out. Too risky nowadays”

“Well...we;re sorry to hear that. Look to the health of you and yours. We will look to ours”

“Don't threaten me lass! Don't forget what we knows”

“Oh, we don't Captain. We don't. Good evening to you”

With that the girl was off, Zandelia memorising her appearance and demeanour as best she could from the short time she had managed tog et a look at her. Jacob, for his part, peered around suspiciously and finished his drink before cursing and walking out also. She fancied that there would be an altercation outside, some attempt at mending fences. In her experience it was impossible tog et out of a criminal enterprise when one was already in it – not without sacrifice. Perhaps his fate would be different but she doubted it. She had what she required at least, a name, a captain, a face and a moniker – Danny. Whoever or whatever the Danny was. With enough ferreting that would lead to more names, more direction and perhaps something worth reporting back to Anelda. She worked in the Bath House but nothing stated she couldn't work outside of it either...and it was her birthday after all.

“A fine little present indeed” she muttered before knocking out her pipe and making her way back out into the city.

It didn't take her long to find her way back to their home, the streets were gloomy but far from fullest dark. As she wandered she also wondered to herself whether there would ever be a possibility to gain access to the darker portions of Zeltiva without getting herself killed in the process. Playing the rich and influential at their games was well and good but she had the idea that to really get them under the thumb something illegal would be required. Something connecting them to things they would rather not have revealed. She knew little of the under trade of Zeltiva, just knew that it existed. Such places always did, it was basic logic coupled with human nature. Greed saw fit to make crime exist everywhere, in Zeltiva it was just better hidden. She had to get into it, somehow. If she could prove herself so useful to her employers then perhaps they would see fit to promote her, however they did that.

As she approached the door she heard raised voices, not dangerous but merry and jovial. Fallon had company. She paused and retracted her had slowly, glancing at the shutters and approaching them softly. Peering in she spied familiar faces, a gathering of sorts. Old friends. She smiled, she had hardly seen them of late and she liked the idea of a bit of catching up and merriment. She went back to the door and stepped in, closing it neatly behind her to be faced with Fallon, Shai and Noven – good scoundrels. She pulled off her cloak and threw it over a chair as she entered with a grin.

“To what do we owe this pleasure? Good scoundrels in a crime less city. Aren't we lucky? I could go for a drink, wash the damned Kelp out of my mouth” she embraced them each before sitting down in a chair and pulling up a cup.

“A lot of alcohol I see? Celebrating good times?” she asked as her gaze took in the various bottles and wondered where the rest of her rum was to add tot he collection.

[Kaie]

It had all been...an adjustment. She supposed that was the simplest and most facetious way to put it. Sunberth's barbarity had left its mark on her rather literally, and the scars to prove it served as evidence to old wounds. One in particular, hidden beneath a new cloak to replace the one lost beneath the ice, had been particularly stubborn to heal. The once vicious gash to her side was a far milder laceration now that time had passed, but the injury had inhibited the usually active Myrian in a way that utterly frustrated her. It doubled to serve as an infuriating reminder of her misfortunes shared with her fellow Scars. It was as if it was a small nudge from Dira. A physical message that said "I almost got you, you know."
Nonetheless, Zeltiva had still managed to challenge the savage woman in ways she had not foreseen. Matthew, who had a strange way of always finding his way back into her life, had naturally had a hand in all of that. She could only wonder what other civilized perils he could put her through by season's end.

Yet as she walked through the calm streets of Zeltiva toward the townhouse owned by her ex-gang leaders, it was not of the harlot's ward nor the horrors of a Zeltivan ball that rested on her mind. Like old times she had been called upon by Fallon. This time it was not one to arms or an order to smash a skull or two. It was an invitation. A party was what everyone seemed to call such things. And after making some inquiries about the norms of such an event, Kaie had hunted for the proper items one might expect. A bell ago she'd finally tracked down a merchant that sold the wine brand she'd recognized from Riverfall, of which she naturally filled a wine skin for herself before purchasing the bottle for Zandelia's party. Yet that did not explain why exactly the foreigner was late. There had been the necessity of a gift, she'd been told. And it was that she struggled over until the very last chime. There was only a dim hope that the item, wrapped in parchment paper within her pocket, would be adequate.

Not more than a chime after Zandelia had entered did the Myrian follow suit, opening the door to find the ex-Scars in her midst appeared well indeed. Fallon, Zandelia, Noven, all were there. Even spotting Shai, a Symenestra belonging to a race that once violently clashed with hers, and whom she had thus wrongly judged prior to the strange magic the woman had woven that helped save all their lives, brought a curious joy to the savage. A shameless grin crossed her face. "Well, it looks like we have enough alcohol to drown in, don't we? Hope none of you have gotten too soft with this kelp shyke they drink here." Kaie shut the door behind her and gave a mischievous lifting of her brow. The wine bottle was placed with the others before the guest of honor upon the table. "Not getting too old to drink with us now, are you Spider?"


ReceiptFine Wine: -20 Gold Mizas

[Fallon]

Noven was the first to appear, causing the bubbling anticipation to burst and force her into action. The door was swung open, a quick sweep of the gaze up and down the street for any signs of other guests, before she shifted her attention to the man. Clean, cleaner than Sunberth, she gave him a clap on the shoulder and gestured for him to settle into one of the chairs. Already she was passing one of the cups to him, voice lilting and rolling as it did, "Drinking, drinking wil-"

It was Shai's voice that caught Fallon off guard. With a flinch she barely managed to turn round to spy the Symestra finish her contortions through the gap in the window. Her jaw slackened as her eyes, settled down onto the offered bottle, brow raising to the seemingly mysterious substance that was held up to them. Her eyes gave a narrow, fingers gingerly reaching out to take the bottle from the other. For a moment, the bare hands gave it a turn, carefully inspecting as if trying to determine what it exactly was, before she placed it down among the other bottles. It was only then that her gaze turned back to Shai, "Really? Through the window?" She paused, pondered carefully moment and then spoke, "Can you do other tricks?"

It was as the lock of the door clicked open that the cause for such an event appeared. Her lips pulled back into a grin as Zandelia made her presence known, her eyes brightening as the other hand gave a point to the woman, "Well, look who we have here!" Her finger shifted to Kaie who came in behind then. With a stand she ushered the Myrian in, pressing a cup into the free hand without a second thought, "Not partial to the Kelp beer then Zandelia? Excellent." There was a devilish grin then, "And certainly enough to drown in Kaie, don't worry about that." With a wink she gave a wriggle of fingers over the bottles, her brow raising as she picked one and studied it once more, "What's people's poison tonight?" She gave a lean down to whisper into Zandelia's ear then, "Do we have rum?"

There was laughter after that, a flash of teeth as she peered down upon the partner as she collapsed into the chair. She felt the weight within her pocket as she pondered over it. Taking a stand next to it, "Oh, there is a celebration indeed. A big one. See, there's a certain wolf who knew it was a certain other's... well, special day." She gave a glance around the room, "So, they sent out the little birds with a message to a few select others to bring them along to celebrate." She offered the bottle to see if she was interested at all, before uncorking it anyway, "Anyone want to try?" Clearing her throat she begun the process of pouring it out into whoever wanted their cup filled with the liquid, "And then they came. And now we're here to wish a certain someone a good day at getting older."

She gave the smallest of pecks upon the cheek, before she filled her own cup upwards a mocking toast, "So, ladies and Noven, shall we give our wishes and have the fun begin?" She straightened, "So, to Zandelia my dear, happy birthday, have a good night, and let's get very drunk." And with that, Fallon began drinking.

[Ricky Maze]

Late but fashionably or so he would hope, it seemed that while Ricky had received an invitation to Fallon's own estate earlier today, he hadn't anticipated the fact he would find himself a little lost on its location shortly after the trip home had been made to clean himself up. Yes he did change clothes for the sake of the fact he smelled of fish and sea salt, but even with the different fabrics layered over his skin there was only so much that could be done, thus when he left the comforts of his home he dressed in only the most comfortable of clothes. Simply put a vest the color of white was all he wore to cover his torso, his tattoos and most of the scars present for display while the beige colored trousers matched the bright and modest appearance he tried to aim for. Simple yet comfortable was often his idea in dressing, unless something fancy had been required like back when there was the Winter Ball and all. Now that was a fun event!

But of course that hardly mattered anymore, what mattered most was the occasion really. Which tended to vary but believe it or not showing up definitely mattered, then again he guessed it better to show up late to such an event than to not show up at all. Just what am Oi gittin' me self into? He wondered as he continued his stroll around the streets to look for the address located in the invitation, he could've sworn as long as he'd lived in Zeltiva, one would've considered him able to find just about any place in the city by now. The bemusement found in his short predicament did a best slightly entertain him the more he thought about it, yet when he realized that he'd just about walked right past the lot that happened to be his destination, Ricky halted his prowess to turn back and reproach the missed turn that would lead him to the front door. Already the sound of others enjoying themselves filled the room beyond the wooden entrance, at it had indeed stirred a nervous knot within his underbelly.

Should he really be here? He was invited by Fallon was he not? So why shouldn't he be! She had proven to be an ally worth having, an valuable contact even considering her investigative skills she displayed that one night. But her company? Maybe he shouldn't barge in and include himself so easily, these were after all people he'd likely never met or thought to associate with. That shouldn't stop him from meeting them though, if anything he should welcome the chance to make more friends, maybe build his own sort of line of contacts. He did need others to count on after all if he were to attempt to join in the political games the city had to offer, why not jump ahead of everyone and already have a few extra close friends at hand in the event they could help further his own pursuits. Thus with a couple of knocks on the door and the turn of the knob, Ricky took a modest approach at entering the premises. "Mind if Oi crash in?" He sheepishly asked with a bit of a nervous grin, he'd already looked and found Fallon immediately upon seeing the group. To his surprise he also found Zandelia here as well, a face he knew well enough but hadn't expected to run into yet again so soon.

"Wow, didn't t'ink Oi'd see more t'an a couple o' friendly faces 'ere!" He cheered with a bit less nervous energy in him, with his eyes sharp to glance at the others he soon found there might've been more than just a couple of friendly faces, familiar ones too he'd seen before but hadn't directly come to meet with. D'is may work out better d'an Oi t'ought. He mused quietly behind the soft laugh he gave, his curiosity piqued as he joined the group in a calm fashion.

oocThis entry post was quite overdo but all the same glad to have it up.

[Noven]

The room was filling up fast, and with each new arrival another bottle of spirits was added to the table. Nov eyed them with growing greed. There was enough wine--and mystery liquid on Saris's part--to drown them all favorably into oblivion. And he could not have asked for a better crowd to do so with.

He wasn't the least bit surprised when Saris came crawling through an open window. Nor when the Myrian made an appearance as well, sporting her usual, modest piece of loincloth for the occasion. For all occasions, he silently corrected himself.

Nov grinned when Web called them scoundrels. Even more so when she made it apparent she had no idea what they were about to celebrate. So, Bitzer had managed to make this a surprise, even from her closest partner in crime. A true testament to her abilities to plot and scheme, though the terms sounded too sinister for the event itself. Quietly, the Sunberthian wondered to himself if they would be successful in lying low for the time being...or if it was only a matter of time before they dove right back into trouble again.

When Bitzer uncorked the first bottle, Nov's heart trilled with joy. He pushed his cup toward her across the table like a beggar thirsting for water.

"Oh sweet goddess," he urged as he watched Bitzer tip the bottle, dark liquid streaming from its lip and into his awaiting cup, "aye, that's the stuff. To the brim, please. No need to hold back."

By the time he'd pulled back his cup--carefully, so as not to slosh its precious contents onto the table--Nov was starting to feel parched. He managed to wait, though, for the others, watching each of their cups get filled before Bitzer tipped hers back at last. And when she did, Nov brought the edge to his own lips, taking a good, liberal swig for taste, and then a second, much bigger draught for effect.

Never in Noven's life had he felt so grateful for the mass tossing frugality to the wind. No one had been stingy with their presents; every bottle was different, and every bottle looked to be of quality. And their contents themselves...well, he thought as he took another gulp, no complaints on his end.

When a sixth member decided to join their party, however, the man almost choked on his wine. He hadn't been expecting to see any new faces, and for the briefest moments, the sanctity of their little boozehood felt like it'd been breached.

But then the stranger greeted them amiably, seeking Bitzer first before addressing the others, and Nov felt the paranoia recede. He was still very much beholden to his old ways. The ways of slums and violence and dogs against dogs. There was still a long way to go before he could say he'd begun to understand this new city in earnest, but it wouldn't be for lack of trying.

Wiping some of the wine form his mouth with the edge of a sleeve, Nov extended his free hand as the newcomer came to join them around the table. "The name's Noven," he offered, the wine already pooling with pleasant heat in his belly, "good to have you."

Keen as the man was to reach a state of blissful oblivion, however, he wasn't as eager to drink himself sick or wake up wishing he were dead. After his first cup was emptied, he extracted himself from the table and took some of the uncooked sausages with him over to the unlit hearth. Nov was about to open his request with 'Wolf Girl,' but thought better of it and changed his mind at the last tick. He really ought to work on not calling her that anymore...after that ambush at The Quay...

"Bitz, Zan. Mind if I light this fire? Going to cook some of these links, if anyone else is interested."

[Pulren Marsh]

There was a good deal of pacing going on in Pulren's cottage. He was genuinely torn about attending. Things were different now and could he really risk being seen with the new group from Sunberth? The Lieutenant at Headquarters had almost spelled it out for him when he questioned Marsh's loyalty. How would it be viewed for the Guardsman to be seen with them? He couldn't deny his friendship and ties with most of them, however. There were some closer than others but they had all shared a bond of brotherhood and that could not be ignored.

He decided two things. One, he would stay sober. That way he could keep his wits should anything bizarre or illegal occur. He had to keep his profession in mind, though he would surely give his friends the benefit of the doubt and try to give them the greatest of spaces in which to flee before being caught. But what kind of Guardsman did that make him? His life since returning to Sunberth had been mostly good, training hard and trying to get back into the swing of things. There was always a gritty undercurrent; a sewer of his deeds in Sunberth that had been plaguing his conscience. Maybe he would exorcise those demons that night.

Walking over to the larger house of Zandelia and Fallon, he couldn't remember number two. What was number two? He was dressed in his Uncle attire, consisting of his black leather pants and his black linen shirt, only heavier with his uniform chain shirt beneath. "Number two, number two." He was saying it as a mantra as he tried to dig in his mind for the forgotten second rule he had made up before leaving the house. Shrugging it off for the moment, he found himself standing at the door, the sounds of raucous laughter and general merriment echoing from within. Rubbing his chin, Uncle's grin smeared across Pulren's face as his fist balled up. Standing close to the door so as not to be directly seen from an adjacent window, he hammered his fist against the wood.

"Wave Guard! Open up! We have a complaint here!" He tried to gruff his voice up a bit, knowing they would all call him on it in his regular one. Oh yeah, number two. Have fun.

[Zandelia]

“I think we have some stashed away, let me check,” she stated, pushing herself out of her seat and setting about rifling through the cupboards, searching and finally finding with a satisfied exclamation, “ there we are!” she declared jovially as she sat back down and placed a half-full bottle upon the table with the rather impressive collection already assembled.

She had to admit that, as the reasoning for this gathering was made evident, she was surprised. She had actually forgotten the day had come around herself. She knew Fallon had a long memory but she hadn't expected her to remember the date and mark it for an occasion. She had to smile and, as the bottle was offered to her, she grasped it and took a swig from it neat, long and deep. Swallowing with effort given the amount she leant back and sighed with satisfaction. The assembled gathering grew larger by the second, Ricky turning up and asking to join. You had to love his meekness at times.

“Of course Ricky, join us! We were just celebrating my birthday it seems. I'm not the only one with...little birds these days” she grinned at Fallon and took up the bottle Shai offered, poured a cup and drank deeply. It was a few seconds before she realised it was the most disgusting thing she had ever drank.

“Akajia's arse that's...unique...and...smooth!” she rasped as she coughed a few times and decided that tonight she agreed, the drunker the better, “where the Hai did you get that?” she asked croakily.

“Don't worry....little Red. Ricky's a decent sort. Though by the end of the evening with us he might be a little less decent eh?” she chuckled as another cup was poured and she let this one last longer than the first two.

She had to admit, she found it rejuvenating that so many had decided to make an appearance at a celebration reserved for herself. She had few friends, even those were hard won and more working relationships than anything else. She hadn't expected most of them to want to engage with her on a social level, the level of friends. Perhaps saving their lives built more than bridges. She just saw it as doing what needed to be done. Others clearly saw it otherwise. She liked it, appreciated it no end. To feel wanted, a part of something more than work. She was beginning to see such things were worth more than secrets. The knock at the door distracted her, the words spoken austere but coming from a voice she knew all too well.

“Ooooooh, a complaint!” she cackled slightly, “Zeltiva clearly doesn't know how to have a good time if they're moaning already. Just wait until my drunken songs start!” she snorted.

“I think Uncle wants to come in. Shall we let him if he's on official business? Official seems a bit stuffy for him, no? Who wants to get the nice officer under the table?” she asked the assembled group.

“As for links...be the cook you always were Nov. Crispier the better. We'll need the heart for tonight” she finished her drink and poured another, not even sure which one it was, a broad grin across her lips, head turning to try and keep her singular eye upon everything happening this night.

She wanted to remember it, doubted she would though the way things were going.