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		Lower Alexandrian Gardens, Midday

Clear skies. Fluffy clouds. Biting chill. Gusty winds. Thankfully a refuge of the Lower Gardens makes a well place to abate from the weather, the verdant place always at its full hue from blessings.

Sitting in a gazebo was that of Slixvah in her tried and true self. Several of her robes are doffed, and has a wide toothed comb in hand, using it to preen individual feathers out as each one gets inspected.

Unlike usual, however, this bird woman has a bit of a problem, and its quite evident right away. Her plumage was too much. Too thick, too fluffy. And it's clear right away what she's doing, as she finds a faaar too long feather, yanks it with a wince, and puts it in a small pile in front of her. Atop her head was her familiar, Fiadh, pulling one out for her and dropping it onto the pile.

"Now that is a curious sight." A familiar voice says from behind her, and then Aelwyn's arms lean against the gazebo. He was wearing his fur-lined cloak; and his glaive had a little bit of a simmering fire going. Not that it did whole lot for his warmth; but the thought was what counted, right?

"Is Ribbon in the business of selling those glorious feathers away?" The draconian asks with a sharp toothed grin, tail swaying behind him. Curiously, he had a fancy looking breastplate over his back. Fancy, but terribly out of his size. "Or are the rest of the feathers just jealous?"

Slix's crest feathers pop up in surprise, Fiadh using one as perch tweets in annoyance as they're having to cling on to not fall over. "Hmm-- oh! Heya!" the egalrin chirps, giving Aelwyn a wave with a wing. Which then gives him a beckon. "Come, sit. Oh no no no, jus' a lil' alchemy thing gone wrong, jus' fixin' it up. You want one?" she asks, holding up a two foot long feather out towards him.

She glances to the armor. "I like ya getup. Looks coo'. Wearin' proper armor finally? Or ya jus' deliverin'?"

Aelwyn neatly slides over, taking a seat besides her. He carefully plants his glaive so it doesn't tip over - with it's flaming blade - and then accepts the feather. "Long feather. A little alchemy thing going wrong? Has one been drinking those hair concoctions?" He asks, with a tilt of his head. But hey, a feather. He accepts with a tilt of his head - and then attempts to slide it between his own mane of quills. "See? A bird of a feather." He flashes his teeth.

The breastplate is pulled out and settled down onto the ground. "Returning, actually. Or finding a different smith. How can anyone wear these?" He asks. "Just hits this one's sides when this one moves."

Slixvah looks a liiiittle weary of the flaming blade- she is combustible after all- but she quietly giggles at the words and the antics. "It's ointment," she correctly, plucking another one as she gently elbows him in the side. "And I used it after bein' fireballed like three times ta fix my patches."

She looks down at the breastplate. "I 'unno, the tradeoff of not getting shanked in th' sides is prett' good? Might get ta find a smith tha' can get a lighter metal maybe? I 'unno, I don' wear tha' stuff, too heavy, mussses up my magics."

Aelwyn spreads his hands. "Too much? Then again, this one quite likes the plumed up look." He rumbles with a wide grin on his face. He rolls his shoulders. "Hmmh, everyone makes such about that. If one were more nimble, one would not need the armor." There's a heavy sigh from him, as he leans forward and looks at the plate. "This weather must not be easy on this one's joints; wouldn't been even touched when this one danced before." Tail flick.

The draconian then turns to look towards Slixvah. "How is Ribbon doing after the phoenix? It was a difficult fight, this one thought." Even without him getting mind controlled. "Though she did well with that water." Flash of teeth.

Slixvah gives a light smile to Aelwyn, amused. "Hon, I could be plucked clean and ya'd still think I was th' hottest thing ta grace Ea," she cackles. "But no. My clothes ain't fittin' and I'm burnin' up."

She wipes down an arm with the comb, shifting to her other side. "Well I only kno' two folks slippery 'nuff fo' tha' stuff. One is Ruru, and th' other is some crazy ass mul woman in the colosseum. Maybe ya jus' gotta dance faster!"

The question gets her quiet for a beat, plucking one. Two. Three feathers. They get stuck into Aelwyn's mane before she just leans against the smaller man. "I'm aight. One part of me is uneasy tha' demons are runnin' amok, corruptin' somethin' so pure and beautiful. Another part of me is-" her expression picks up, a wicked cocky grin flashing, "-friggin stoked that we saved a /phoenix!/ Man! Tha's some stuff ya only hear about in stories! It was soooo cooool!"

"Well, maybe not the hottest." Aelwyn replies back, giving his head a slight tilt side by side with his new feathers. "But she's definitely burning up for the competition." He flicks his tongue.

The draconian lifts up his hands. "Tch, she should have seen this one before! Blades and arrow, either were just a target of mockery!" He lets out a deep breath, half-defeated. "Then again, maybe this one just hasn't had enough time to practise this one's routine."

Rumbling as she leans closer, the Dragoon's maw splits open into a macabre grin. "Damn right, Ribbon. We saved a phoenix. Ah, did she see how its wings spread as it went for the skies?" Another low rumbling sound, and he tilts his head towards her. "Those straggling demons stood no chance."

Slix chuffs. "Of course, 'cause ya'd be number one, right?" she counters, holding a hand up as Fiadh passes another feather down to her. "Fell outta practice? Or maybe everyone else caught on to ya routine, and ya need ta come up wit' some new moves?" She pats his leg in consolation.

The witch closes her eyes. Humming in thought. "Yes! It was so glorious. Th' rainbow of fire it roared out-- gods. That healin' it popped was somethin' else too. They sure as hell needed tha' birdie chained down 'cause that was a being in a completely different league!"

She cracks and eye open, looking down at him, amused. "Also- thank you fo' not stabbing me." Seems like she didn't forget.

"Why would this one be number one? That would just be unfair." Aelwyn flashes his teeth widely, before he grits his teeth. "Perhaps." What a difficult thing for him to admit. "Tch, this one will come up with something new." He then says and flashes his teeth. He stretches his arm behind his head, running fingers over a feather. "This one has the performance coming soon - surely something new is nothing but expected." Flash of teeth. 

The draconian nods his head at the memory, "This one has never felt better. This one had forgotten so much ache." The sudden statement though, makes him lower his arm and he tilts his head towards the egalrin. "... yes, this one tried. It was awful." He looks down at his hands, then towards the glaive. "Even more so, when it felt so right." Orange eyes slide over towards Slixvah, and he bows his head. "This one apologizes."

Slix rolls her eyes, snickering. At least he's honest about that. "Ain' nothin' wrong wit' needin' ta do somethin' different. Shoo'. Tha's wha' all I do is," she offers before smiling. "I plan on bein' there, prolly in th' background somewhere disguised so I don' distract ya." A wink.

She watches Aelwyn for a moment as a quiet sigh leaves her beak, the comb being set aside. "It's alright, hon, ya forgiven. I get tha' a horned Ruru /did/ look pretty cute- but those demons are reall' rough ta get outta ya skull." She reaches up to cup his face with both hands and smiles. "It's alright." Pat pat.

Aelwyn's face was hard to read - even if even for a makari he tended to be easy to read. Suddenly, his maw opens and he nips at those hands on his cheeks. "Tch. Think she would wear horns for us?" He asks, with a rumbling amusement. He then reaches out to take the comb and sways it in front of her. "This one carries still a debt for such. And this one supposes she won't take a massage as a favor." He teases with a flick of his twin forked tongue.

The ruddy sith-makar then looks at her plumage and... has no idea how to do anything with comb and feathers. Question marks all around. "Ahh, why would she disguise herself?" The draconian complains, "How could this one bring the flames to her if this one cannot even see her?"

Slix snickers at the nips, her countering with a careful peck on the forehead. The hands fall away. "Oh absolutely not," she snickers. "But I thinks I prefer th' regular Rune." Her eyes follow the wobbling comb, a feathered brow ticking up. "No, I won', 'cause I'd rather jus' buy th' massage wit' th' employee discount or sweet talkin' ya ta do it," she cheekily says.

There's a blink. Then a genuine smile as she sits more upright. "Because flames burn for all, silly. And, I get a better view when I'm taller. I /am/ short fo' egalrin," she answers before reaching out to take his hand with the comb. "Use it ta part the feathers, don' force it. Ya want 'em ta lay one over one another in li' a sheet, each one is part of a layer. If one's too long and don' match the others, give it a quick yank," she explains, turning towards him and dipping her poofy shoulder towards him.

"This one does give killer massages - whyfor this be so easily swayed by a sweet word? A crime." Aelwyn rumbles as he spreads his hands. Woe is him. "Hmmh. But this one suspects she will find a favor to ask of this one." The comb is waved a bit, before Slixvah takes hold of his hand.

"Still very cruel to hide from this one. Would she not wish to dance with the fire as well?" He flicks his tongue out. "Guess this one will just have to find someone handsome from the crowd instead." There's plenty of confidence and perhaps not much skill, as Aelwyn starts to fold the feathers as instructed; soon plucking away at feathers.

"This one hopes Ribbon will come for the last performance." Fold, fold, careful yank, fold. "This one wishes all the kin could be there."

Slix snorts at that. "'cause ya'd do it without favors anyways! But yuh, maybe I'll have favor for ya. Maybe I'll jus' let it go. The suspense..!"

Her other shoulder gives a little shrug. "I would, we can dance another time tho'. I wanna see wha' all ya'll got goin'. I have no doubt ya can find a handsome folk ta replace wit'."

There's a wince as a feather is yanked out, but there's no complaint. An idle humming song thrums in her throat. "Should be! But- All kin? I heard ya Crimson Toupe was in town. How they doin'? I kno' ya was missin' 'em," she asks softly, shifting a bit so he can get her side.

Aelwyn takes one of those feathers - and then stabs her right back with it. "This one does not mess around with favors, Ribbon." He rumbles, with threatening, but playful tone. "She will have her favor and accept it." The feather is flicked about, before he puts it onto the pile.

There's a long moment of silence when the Troupe comes up, but then there's a low hiss. "They are, yes. Hell invited this one to perform." He takes out another feather. "Yet one does not visit a Troupe if they are not performing - it would spoil to show." He flashes his teeth. "So this will be as much of a spectator as any other." A pause. "This one will just have to see what shall happen during the show."

Slix acks as a feather juts out from her awkwardly. But she ends up giggling and waving it off. "Fine fine. I'll take th' massage," she accepts, playfully threatened into accepting.

A wing idly wraps around the Dragoon in that silence. A wince. "Now tha's a name," she hums in comment, listening. "You sound conflicted, Aelwyn. Wha's stoppin' ya from saying hello? Sounds a little weird ta only show when a show is goin' on."

Aelwyn rumbles in amusement. "No messing around with favors, Ribbon. It is misfortune." There's a pause, and click of his teeth. "Though this one supposes in this case..." He doesn't finish off his sentence.

The Dragoon flashes his teeth. "Name, and she should see her flames. Just like a phoenix." He puts his hand over his snout. "Wears a mask like it too." He continues to show off his row of teeth, before returning to combing her feathers over. At her question though, he lets out a click of his teeth.

"This one wishes to. But he's not part of the Troupe anymore." The comb continues to go through her feathers, and he pulls out few of the larger ones. "The smiles feel different."

Slix grins, elbowing him lighty in the gut. "... you'll make an exception?" she finishes for him. "I /am/ one tha' deals wit' misfortune and its counterpart, you know."

She nods along, chuckling quietly. "Really? I bet ya can regale her wit' how ya saw a true phoenix!" she thrums, softly sighing as she shifts to get the hard to reach places. Another wince. "Maybe th' Troupe changed wha' th' troupe means," she thinks aloud. "Or maybe ya know wha' it's like ta be the Crimson Troupe, and they forgot."

"Ah, this one should! Make her jealous, so her fire will burn brighter." The Dragoon flashes his teeth wide. He gives her some space to shift about, before he casually flicks those feathers back and forth. "Asch, this one is certain she wouldn't thought this one would free a phoenix and be bathed in its fire." A flick of his tail.

There's another click from his mouth as he tilts his head. "This one doesn't believe they forgot anything." He states abruptly, but then falls silent. "Hmmh, there is a new master of ceremonies." He pools few of those larger feathers and nudges them one by one. "So something has changed."

Slixvah snaps a finger, grinning over her shoulder. "Yeah! Do it! Hell will certainly be jealous!" she snickers, letting her wings extend out and drape over her shoulders to get them out of the way. The feathers that get flicked end up animating, them returning the flick with a counter bop, seemingly on their own accord.

She nods once, her amusement dashed with a sprinkle of seriousness. The pooled feathers gently wrap around the fidgeting hand. "Change in management tends ta beget some stuff. Not always good stuff. I'd say-- keep ya wits 'bout ya when ya go, aight hon?"

Aelwyn picks up one of the loose feathers and lightly taps her beak with it. "Not management. Family." He chides her lightly, flicking his tongue, before he leans his head over her shoulder. "Being with the Troupe is not like any other business. When one plays a tune with death, one does with kin." He rumbles in amusement as he attempts to tickle her face with the feather, before he peels back.

"How is her family anyway? Brother still good looking?" There's a wide, very wide grin behind her.

Slixvah goes cross eyed at the beak bop, her rubbing the spot and sheepishly says, "Yes yes, my bad, hon." An eye watches him as he shows up over a shoulder. There's a lack of comprehension as he explains. "I suppose it'll make sense ta me when th' show gets goin'- pfftahahaha...!" she giggles, batting at the feather.

"Oh my family's fine-" she chokes. "Uuuugh, noooo. Please do /not/. Hit on me, or hit on my brother, but ya ain't gettin' both!" she chides, pointing a finger at the man. "Anyways, since you're here, can ya get my back? I can't reaaach!"

Aelwyn gives a wide grin. "Tch, what can this do when one plays hard to reach and one is just good looking?" The draconian points out and gives her another teasing flick of the feathers. "Tease both mercilessly?"

The comb is flipped about and he moves to lightly spread her wings away. "Of course, Ribbon. What else would this one spend his time on, than make one's plumage more glorious on a cold chilly day?" And so the comb digs in.

[[Category:Logs]]