Fire Against the Rain

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Revision as of 18:24, 12 May 2023 by Rune (talk | contribs) (Created page with "<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;"> ==Log Info== *'''Title''': Fire Against the Rain *'''Characters''': Rune, Aelwyn *'''Place''': Lower Alexandria Market District / Fernwood Pub *'''Summary''': A Rainy day finds Alwyn and Rune taking shelter in the Fernwood Pub, where they discuss their past.</div> It is late afternoon, but the darkness in the sky would make it seem well into the evening hours. Thick clouds pour down rain, causing m...")
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Log Info

  • Title: Fire Against the Rain
  • Place: Lower Alexandria Market District / Fernwood Pub
  • Summary: A Rainy day finds Alwyn and Rune taking shelter in the Fernwood Pub, where they discuss their past.

It is late afternoon, but the darkness in the sky would make it seem well into the evening hours. Thick clouds pour down rain, causing many people to have retreated indoors. A few shops which have covered canopies are still open, but there are plenty of people simply seeking shelter from the rain rather than actually shopping.

Rune is among those who seems to be doing so, although she happens to have a package with her that suggests she may have been shopping at one point before the rain. It looks to be little more than a flat piece of wood which has been stained and coated in some kind of laquer to protect it from the elements. What she might be doing with it is anyone's guess.

"Oh come on, let up already." She mutters, looking as if she might just head out into the storm out of shear impatience. The Human vendor at the stall she is standing beneath seems to be perfectly content, sipping at some warm tea and otherwise ignoring those seeking shelter at his stall.


Skulk. Sulk. Skulk. A lone figure was striding through the cascade of rain - and the little of the red scaled face looked extremely intense, orange eyes gleaming in the dark. Intense look of, please get me out of this rain. Yet the wolf fur lined leather cloak was holding to its promise of warmth and dryness.

A small leather bag was bobbing along with the steady stride, roped around its carrier's neck. One step at a time. That is what the sith-makar insisted on telling himself, as he sought a quick getaway.

A long red silken cloth was quietly unfurling from within the leather bag; trailing off his back, without its owner noticing. One step at a time, and the warmth is near; Aelwyn kept telling himself, as the street's dirt and mud continued to climb up his mostly bared calves.

At least, until the Dragoon notices a familiar face in the dark, causing him to pause. "Twin," He calls out, or tries to, over the rain.


At first, it is hard to see anything through the sheeting rain, but there is definitely /someone/ moving out there. It's eerie enough of an approach that Rune quiets in her fidgeting and shifting from foot to foot, as if she may just be worried that some real threat were approaching out of the muck and mire.

It is not a werewolf, or a demon, or any Fey creature, but Aelwyn, trudging into view. "Aelwyn." There is a sound of relief in her voice. "Come on over, get out of the rain." She invites.

This causes the Human shopkeeper to look up, squint, and then give a begrudging sigh as he goes back to his work. Apparently it is some sort of woodworker's stall, which explains the sheet of wood tucked under Rune's arm.

"What a mess." She murmurs, one hand rubbing at her bare, tattooed arm underneath her cloak. "What has you out in this horrid weather?"


"Gladly." The familiar voice responds with a careful tilt of his head - water just flowed down along his snout. And all over his scales underneath the leather cloak; the collar of which he had been trying to hold up. There's a quiet sharp hiss.

Rumbling as he carefully reaches up and swipes some of the water away, he gives a curious glance towards the shopkeeper. After a moment, he glances back towards the half-elven woman. "This one interrupted a secret rendezvous?" The draconian asks with obvious amusement. "Or the promise of warmth?"

At her question, Aelwyn tilts his head, falling silent for a moment. The ruddy sith-makar gives a shake of his shoulder and lets the moisture fall off his cloak, before he lets it open; exposing those water glistening scales. "Work, what else? People seem to desire goods of trade, especially in this weather." The cloak only did so much, as his red silks stuck onto him. Including the bundle around his back; which he subtly hid around his shape. "What of Twin?" Orange gleaming eyes look at the piece of wood. "An unfortunate time to pick up renovation, is it not?"


"Neither of the sort." Rune responds quickly, a hint of color rising on her freckled cheeks as she shakes her head. Her colorful bangs are slightly damp, sticking to her forehead. "I was just picking up an order when the rain started pouring down, so I've been lurking on this poor fellow's doorstep for a bit until it passes." The 'order' in question is the wooden sheet, which she pats with one hand.

"Trust me, this is not my idea of a rendezvous. I'd prefer a little less rain." She huffs, pulling those strands of hair away from her forehead with her free hand. "And if I wanted warmth, I think we both know who I'd turn to for that."

When Aelwyn's eyes question her strange parcel, Rune seems to hesitate, uncertain. "I... don't know if you heard, but Telamon and Cor'lana's place got trashed by one of the were-wolves." It seems to be an unusual statement, given the question, but she adds, "I was going to take a shot at replacing one of Pothy's perches. This is going to be the base, and I was going to try to go down to the shore and look for some driftwood for the perch but..."

A hand motions out towards the sheeting rain, "Not in this mess."


Amusement was evident on Aelwyn - as much as can be in a sith-makar - at the mention of certain heated stone, before shakes his head. "This one is not too familiar with the Raven." He clicks his tongue, "Not quite the gossip this one hears at the TarRaCe; the wrecking of perches by werewolves." His tail coils behind him. "It seems there is certain magnetism around the pair."

The dark sky and all its 'joys' it's bringing down on the poor residents of Alexandria makes the draconian gaze out for a moment. Claws click against the stone, as he shifted ever so slightly; body swaying as he attempted to keep warm himself. The ruddy scales seemed to be particularly vibrant under the dark sky; an irony on how much he hated the cold.

"Hmmh. This one is not certain if one can survive to their house," And then white toothy grin widens, as he begins to peel away his leather cloak. "But if she cares to, perhaps Twin would be interested in a race to the Fernwood? She can borrow this one's cloak for her prize."


"A few months ago, I might have said the same." Rune replies, pulling her hood up with her free hand to ward off some of the spray of the rain that still comes filtering in through the awning of the shop. "But you're right. There is a certain magnetism about them. Enough so that I consider them among my closest friends." She lifts the bit of wood, "So, I want to help where I can when trouble comes to call."

When Aelwyn proposes trying to get to their home, Rune shakes her head, "There's no one there other than a few Chalice guards from what I understand. It's not a safe place, for now. Besides... my gift isn't anywhere close to ready yet." It is just a block of wood at the moment, and little else.

However, the idea of getting warm at the Fernwood. That seems a far more appealing idea. "The Fernwood sounds like a far better idea than trying to wait out the storm." She offers the ruddy-scaled Makari a smile, "I've got my own cloak, so I should be fine. It's just a little rain." Said in a voice as if she were trying to convince herself of this fact.

"A race then?" Her brows lift, body shifting like a runner about to sprint.


Aelwyn bows his head, "Not the very first this one has seen fall under their charms." He rumbles in amusement. "Perhaps they are the tempters of souls, the fey." Yes, he went there.

Glancing over at her cloak, with his offer rejected, the ruddy sith-makar - barely taller than Rune - lets out a long suffering rumble. "Tch, what does one need to be of service to a handsome lady in this town?" He flicks out his forked tongue before he pulls up the cloak further around himself. He points towards the direction of the Pub. "A race. The first one at Fernwood shall buy the first round of the hot mulled wine." His lips twist away from his teeth. "No holds barred."

He reaches out and adjusts the ties around his neck; still unaware of the red silk fluttering behind him. "Let us see who is the quickest in the market, Twin, at her sign."

 GAME: Aelwyn rolls athletics: (4)+8: 12  GAME: Rune rolls athletics: (1)+8: 9 (EPIC FAIL)

"Very much so." Rune confirms with a nod of her head. Oh, she isn't particularly saying that Cor'lana or Telamon have those Fey charms to sway the mind and the soul, but... she isn't /not/ saying that, either.

"You wan to be of service... to me?" That seems to catch her off-guard. The confused look reaches her features but then the focus is on the face at hand.

"Deal." With a nod, Rune gives a whistle to announce the race, then darts into the rain.

Her feet pound against the stones, splashing up water. Squinting against the pounding rain as it threatens to blind her in the process. She wipes once at her eyes, forcing effort to try to move past the Makari, and then...

Her foot catches on the flapping bit of red silk.

It slides against the ground, causing her footing to shift, then WHOOMP. Down she goes. Rune lands with a splash on the stones just in front of the Fernwood.

Defeated, she sits there for a moment and rubs at her ankle. It's not /really/ hurt. No, that's more her pride. "You win." She admits, then pushes herself to her feet.

Rune is soaked, but she joins Aelwyn at the entrance of the Pub, "Mulled wine it is."


"Tch, is that surprising?" The Dragoon replies to her confusion and moves to give her a bump with his elbow. "Attracted a plenty, this one is certain." With a whip of his tail, he leans his glaive just so - dull end forward, slightly tilted downwards to pierce the wind, but not to slip off his wet hands.

The ruddy sith-makar had the benefit of being able to see in the dim light. He did not have the benefit, of hearing, seeing, or smelling anything through the rain. Skies, as if they were angry at those who dared to go against its might.

So with his stiff limbs, cold whipping his body, and having to weave between few surprise obstacles along the way - he was certain he was going to be dead last. No matter, there will be mull-

Whomf and he is also sent stumbling forward, though he touches the door frame. That red silk. A good chunk of it flops out - but it also brought down the small thin box that had been wrapped in it.

Quickly, Aelwyn crouches down and takes what is dry of the silk, to try and wipe the worst off her. "Tch," He clicks his teeth, joining her towards the pub. "This one apologizes. Should have secured the bag. Is she hurt?"

The box is quickly rewrapped under the wet silk, and put away under his cloak.


"Yes." Blink. "I mean... kind of?" The poor half-sil certainly looks a bit flustered at that, but there is little time to address the matter further as the race is on!

The flutter wayward silks and the the thunk of a box can be heard as Rune is getting to her feet, her eyes taking notice of it with a curious glance. Then there's water in her eyes.

"I'm fine. Really." She laughs, reaching out to touch one of his arms as she runs a hand through sodden hair and wipes the moisture out of her eyes. "Just a bit of wounded pride." Her smile is warm, despite the fact that clothes and cloak are clinging to her form from the rain.

As they step inside, Rune takes a moment to wring out some of the worst of the water from her cloak, "Go find us a table, somewhere warm enough to dry off a bit." She asks, "I'll go get the drinks."

With that, she leaves Aelwyn to the task as she goes to order some hot mulled wine. Her boots squelching and leaving wet footprints as she does.


Unfortunately for Fernwood, there was plenty of water to be brought in. "Tch, pride cannot be wounded by mere stumble, Twin, it takes far more concentrated effort than that." He rumbles as he gives her a bump with his hip and a tap from his tail around her ankles. He bows his head, "Hnnh, this one wished the Fire Lodge were nearer..." The draconian ruminates by himself as he begins to work off the wet cloak off around himself; his glistening form obviously shivering as he made his way deeper into the pub.

At the very end, Aelwyn did manage to find a relatively secluded - and more importantly warm - table by the corner. The scaled sith-makar easily honed into the nearest source of the warmth. Unfortunately, it was not a fireplace. Or fire. Just a bowl of gently flickering fire, that he had to conjure himself with creative use of oil and bit of flint.

Arms sprawled across his seat, head tilted back, and with a glorious attempt to accept the chill for what it was. "Did Twin make certain the wine is steaming?" He asks, when she returns.


When Rune returns, she is carrying two over-large tankards. They certainly aren't the sort that mulled wine normally comes in. "As steaming as the hot springs." She answers, thunking down the tankards onto the table, followed by the small sheet of wood.

Once the drinks are set down, Rune takes time to remove her own cloak, laying it out over a free chair and then she starts to unstrap the leather and padding she wears that is equally as soaked. Beneath it, there is simply a thin, sleeveless undershirt that has the silvery glint of mithral. It reveals the full length of the tattoo which extends from her cheek all the way down to her wrist, and seemingly beyond, vanishing into the side of the shirt.

"Brr..." Rune makes a soft sound and extends her arms towards the small fire that Aelwyn had created. "Too bad we couldn't have made it to the baths. That would have been a far more pleasant place to spend a cold, rainy day." She offers Aelwyn a smile before leaning back a little to wrap her hands around the tankard, letting the warmth seep through to her fingers.

"So... were the silks and box your delivery?" She gives a somewhat sheepish expression, "I'm sorry if I damaged them. It was an accident."


Aelwyn hoists his head up, as sprawled as he was. "Tch, do not tempt this one with thoughts of hot springs. Imagine the way the heat would penetrate, seep through scales, and caress one's flesh like little imps carrying the angry love." The ruddy scaled sith-makar rumbles as he gets to a more upright stance; and quite unashamedly enjoys the sight. "She carries an interesting tattoo." His tail sways behind him, as he tilts his head and flashes his teeth at her. "Undoubtedly bearing many secrets to be uncovered."

The Dragoon adopts one of the tankards for himself; and as she reaches her hand out for the fire he himself dips his fingers into the flames. Lightly, and with slow and deliberate movements, he flicks the oil just enough to make the heat rise up further.

"The delivery...? Ah, tch." The sith-makar looks away, grinding his teeth. "This one lied. This one was taking it from one of his stowaways to another." Lifting his fingers from the air, he spreads the lit tips up in the air; the flames soon dying out. "She saw nothing." He rumbles in amusement. "After the last foray into the Felwood, this one has felt the weight of shadows a little more than usual."


Just hearing Aelwyn describe the springs like that is enough to have Rune shiver slightly, drawing her hands away from the drink to rub up and down her bare arms. "The way you describe it makes me wish for it even more." She cups her hands in front of herself and blows on them before wrapping them around the mug once more, taking a slow drink of the steaming wine. "I always feel cold."

Her eyes flick to Aelwyn's hands as he reaches for the flames. She knew very well that many Makari were more resistant to such things, but it is still quite an entrancing sight. The extra wash of warmth is met with an appreciative smile.

A brow raises, obviously curious why the ruddy Sith-Makar might lie about such things. "She saw nothing." Rune agrees, inclining her head. The half-sil is loyal to a fault.

Then, she quiets a little bit, looking to him with concern on her features. "Was it the poison from the thorns?" Rune's voice is soft as she asks, "Both you and Jacob seemed to be seeing something..."


Aelwyn slowly weaves his hand back into the hot oil; letting the hot liquid slide along his fingers before quietly sizzling away. It was almost as if... he was petting the fire. Orange eyes gleam brightly. "Tch, she saw through this one's ploy to tempt her into the baths." He opens his mouth and makes a playful gesture with his tongue.

Though her second question knocks out the mirth from his face, and replaces it with one of curiosity. "Hmm, is that why she is so attracted to Hotstone?" A low rumble leaves his throat. "Beyond his other, comparatively less attractive qualities." Another amused sound leaves the runty sith-makar.

As far as her last question goes, that actually causes the draconian to falter, and all that facade of playful teasing to fade away. He takes in a deep breath, rolls his shoulder and leans towards the side, stretching out his body in a sinuous fashion. "Yes. Something I saw." He replies in a flat fashion; briefly, his flowery makari accent gone, replaced with a far blunter one. He lets out a faint hmmh, before relaxing in his poise. "This one owes quite a deal for the rest of the group for smacking some sense in us."

Ah, wine. How attractive you are. The Dragoon's hand lets out a bit of a sizzle as he touches the tankard, taking a deep sip. "Does she think there is anything worth salvaging in that spire?"


"Usually it doesn't take much to tempt me into a trip to the TarRaCe." Her lip quirks slightly, giving a playful wink to the Makari in return. "Maybe some other time when it isn't quite so miserable outside."

She has a mouthful of wine when he asks about Harkashan, and it nearly causes her to snort wine up her nose. That would not be pleasant. Instead, she coughs once, "That... is complicated." Rune catches her lower lip between her teeth as if trying to figure out how to frame the answer. "When we traveled in Am'shere, Harkashan was the one person I learned I could depend on. He was my safe place." Looking across towards the Makari, she doesn't quite know if her way of framing things makes sense.

"The cold... that came later." Rune admits, rubbing her hands together again, "After I died taking a spell that was meant for him. The cold never seems to go away, even after I came back."

Rune had taken a few bruises trying to bring both Jacob and Aelwyn back from wherever their hallucinations had taken them, enough to know that whatever they saw had been horrific.

As he looks to his drink, Rune reaches out to rest her fingers on his arm, a comforting gesture. The question on the Spire, though... "I... really don't know." Her brows furrow. "It feels like it's connected to all the dark happenings in the Felwood. As for if it's worth it... no clue." There is a soft laugh, but there is no mirth in it. "Sometimes you just play the hero and hope you're doing the right thing."


Aelwyn's arm is touched, and he reaches out with his finger to slide it under Rune's hand. It was still scorching from the fire, but not scalding hot. "Ah, if life were a simple tune, what use would be there to sing it?" He rumbles, then tilts his head as she so blatantly just states she died. "Hmmh." Then his lips twist open. "For a corpse, her visage is quite lively." Sharp teeth flash. "Now warn this one of spots this one should not touch."

There's a long ruminating sound from the Dragoon, and he attempts to balance a response to her words. "The one that protested... this one thinks she's wrong. There is nothing decent in those woods. This one..." A tough chill hiss leaves his mouth. "This one feels it all should be gone. Destroyed, before it all swallows the rest of us."

Lifting her hand, the sith-makar slowly moves it over and past the burning fire, before he lets his fingers dangle off. "Besides, it is at weather like this when the baths are important. To remember the heat of the sun, and the warm rain, all of those around us." Ah, wine. He takes another long gulp of it.


There is a very stark contrast of the feel of Rune's fingers against the warmer temperature of Aelwyn's hand. Her eyes half-lid at the sensation, likely quite enjoying any chance to ease some of the chill in her fingertips.

At his comment about her 'lively' visage, Rune smirks slightly. "Not quite like that. Though Harkashan did check to make sure I was wasn't undead when he saw me again." She seems to find some amusement in that, even if it did bother her at the time. It's easy to make that connection between his question and a certain 'not fully dead' Makari. "Definitely not like Skielstregar." She confirms without being asked.

Yet, she does give a rueful expression, "My back, right between my shoulder blades. I have a pretty bad scar there." So it isn't as if Aelwyn is completely wrong in connecting the two, it seems.

Rune blinks at the Makari's words, trying to determine which of their traveling party he might have been refering to. "Huian?" Her brows furrow. "I mean, I don't disagree with you. I'm just not certain burning the place would do any good. It feels like whatever the problem is, it may very well stem from the Spire itself."

She doesn't draw her hand back when he moves them closer to the flames. There's a distance where it is comfortable without becoming painful. So, Rune lets her hands linger over them for a moment, warming as best she can. "Between your sales pitch and Irshya's hospitality..." Rune laughs. "The TarRaCe must see quite good business."


The wine seemed to attract Aelwyn's attention for a while; his mind obviously having diverted elsewhere. Somewhere far warmer.

"Hmmh," The draconian rumbles with amusement, lifting his gaze. The orange pupils narrow and widen in sequence. "This one is not to speak, when one simply works there. Besides, there is a certain red head behind the counter that spins a far better tale." A flick of his forked of tongue; he twists the tips in opposite directions.

"This one hopes Twin's back is less sensitive than Silver's; how else will Hotstone be able to hug her?" A twist of his lips. "Or worse, how will he ever lead her to a dance?" The far more important question.

Dragging his claw around the wood of the table, he slowly begins to lean back. Water still continued to drool from around his mane of quills; but slowly and ever surely, the whipping anger of the sky started to fade from his exposed scales. "This one fears the woods carry something more than mere evil. Perhaps burying the spire, eradicating whatever it hides, would be the best option." He shrugs his shoulders then. "But this one does not listen to secrets, what can a mere dancer know?"

Clawtips rap against the table. "Simply worry that the music will wind to a close."


A subtle tilt of Rune's head suggests that she may not quite know who he is referring to in regards to the other workers in the TarRaCe. Largely, she had interacted with Irshya and few others. In fact, she didn't often see Aelwyn there, likely passing at different hours. "I don't know, I think you're far more charming than you give yourself credit for."

The comment about hugs and dances gets a soft laugh from her as she shakes her head, drawing her fingers back from their proximity to the flames and rubbing them up and down along her arms. "Carefully." Is her answer, "Though those sort of things don't happen as often as you might imagine." Her brows lift as she takes a drink of her own wine, savoring the warmth.

She seems to think about how to explain, "Have you ever stepped on a piece of glass and felt it crack under your foot? The way the pieces rub against each other? It's... like that." Rune presses her lips together. "Not painful, just... disturbing. Though, if I get struck there it's about the most painful thing you can imagine. Like being pulled appart into shattered pieces." Her brows furrow. Rune hasn't really talked about this with anyone, not even Harkashan.

She sits back a bit, watching the body language of the Makari. Rune had spent a long time among their kind, but that doesn't mean that she knows them perfectly. "You're wiser than you think." She states as if this were fact. "And no matter what, we're not facing that kind of evil alone. We've got each other, right?"


The sith-makar's pointed ears subtly shift. "Perhaps," The draconian responds, "But perhaps this one enjoys being told how charming he is." He rumbles and flicks his tongue out.

At the mention of walking on glass, the draconian listens, taking a deeper sip from his hot mulled wine. It was better to drink it while it was hot; suffusing the heat from within. "Hmm, this one is not certain." Leaning further back on his seat, he reaches down - and demonstrating uncanny agility, he slowly pulls his leg up in the air, straightening it out as he keeps his finger hooked by the big toe. His bared clawed toes flex in the air. "This one is used to walking on hot coals, after all."

One reason why the ruddy sith-makar preferred to dress so light. One of many.

"Hmm, this one was quite curious of her and Hotstone, but perhaps this has understanding now." The Dragoon tilts his head, sliding his hand down his muscular thigh, before slowly bringing his foot down. "Arriving in this down, this one was not expecting it to be so full of dead people." He tilts his wine tankard at her. "Yet this one is curious of her story. Lit, handsome, furnace of a makari from Am'shere this one can understand - but how come someone with a scar and story to tell wound up in those jungles?" A tongue flicks out. "Even this one has not found his way there yet."


The flick of the tongue from Aelwyn earns a flash of Rune's own in response. The half-sil easily falling into a friendly, teasing undertone with the Makari.

The display of just how limber Aelwyn is draws a slight widening of Rune's eyes. It is a stark contrast to many of the other Makari that she knows, who tend to favor brute strength and heavy armor to agility. "Don't worry yourself too much about it. It's hard to explain." With a shake of her head, Rune toys with the edge of the tankard, lightly rubbing her thumb across it.

"I was trying to follow a journey my mother took many years ago. It lead me to Am'shere." Rune explains, expecting that is the best place to start that story. "I signed on with a traveling party, exchanging my skills for the chance of tracking down where my mother had gone in Am'shere. Harkashan was among them, working against the Charneth. We traveled together as friends for about two years before the ambush where I was killed."

Rune doesn't delve into the details. Not long ago, she wouldn't have talked about this at all. She's made some progress in dealing with what had happened. "That was a little over a year ago. I hadn't seen Harkashan in all that time until I happened upon him on the way to Alexandros to deliver a message to Telamon." She lifts one bare shoulder in a small shrug.

Then, she seems to take curiousity of her own to his statement, "You haven't been there?" She asks. "I thought most Makari were born in the jungles."


The Dragoon settles back on his seat, his sinuous body stretching out. Almost as if knocking off the chill off his scales. He clicks his tongue, tilting his head. "She talks so casually of death." He rolls his shoulders. "Did she know that when performing on street, it is the thrill of death that arouses the crowd the most?" Then his lips curt open. "What if this Dragoon were to fall, and burst in flames?" A long sip from his tankard.

"... yet death, can be such a mundane thing." There's a low hrmh.

Hearing the familiar name makes Aelwyn tilts his head. "This one was not aware she came here because of Raven's kin. Curious," He flashes his teeth. "Then this one supposes, threads of all kinds are woven over decades."

The Dragoon shakes his head at the question about Am'shere. He spreads his arms wide and gives an amused hiss. "This one is of the road. The kin was the caravan one traveled with from birth. Most cities, this one has forgotten name of." He leans closer over the table then. "Tch, this one has imagined what it must look like. Did Twin also wear bodypaint and loincloth?" He asks, with a wriggling of his tongue.


"Not at all." Rune offers in response. "I just happen to have made the aquaintence of a good many people who won't let me shut out the past and have forced me to deal with it." Pressing herself back against the chair, she tilts her head, "I still have my moments where it haunts me. More often than I'd like." It's a slight dip in her mood, shown by the fidgety way she shifts her fingers in her lap.

Then, lifting her blue gaze back to the red-scaled Makari, she comments, "I... actually didn't know you were a performer. It... might sound silly but I don't know that I would have guessed that." A soft laugh follows, "Don't get me wrong, you're charming, athletic, and can give me a run for my money in a fight, but I guess I just never pictured that."

At the question if if she had ever dressed more typical of what one might expect of a Makari, Rune laughs outright. "Once. There was a festival, and I lost a bet with Achuak. He was the party's muscle. More brawn than brains, but a good guy." She smiles with a sort of sad fondness. "Skimpy outfit. Loincloth. Body paint. Even spiked up my hair. It was quite a sight."


Aelwyn looks at her fidgeting - and slides his tail instead to tap at her ankles. He leans his head forward on his hand, continuing to 'smile' in his own macabre way. "Tch, Twin died once. What can she be afraid of? Hangovers and broken love?" He rumbles in amusement.

At her confession though, the ruddy sith-makar's lips twist. It seemed that as if that touched a nerve. "And then what did she imagine this one as?" He leans away and gestures at himself; sliding his fingers down his horns, the red ribbons. "Not the visage of one that dances with fire?" The claw tip runs down his chest. "One that can take a stage, any stage, and leave lingering looks?" His fingers slide lower - before he snaps them back up. "This one traveled with a-" A brief pause, choked word. "A troupe. Performed across many towns. Yet it is hard to set the street on fire on one's own." He flicks his tongue out.

Continuing to 'smile', the draconian leans ever closer. "Twin should know, it usually takes at least a bottle of wine before this one gets excited." He gestures at the tankard. "She managed to do that before the first cup is done." Flick of tongue.


The tap to her ankles draws Rune's eyes over to meet Aelwyn's, that draconic smile not at all intimidating to her. She's far too used to Makari for that. "Dying again?" She proposes, lifting her brows. "It was trauamtic enough the first time, believe me."

And then it becomes obvious that she may very well have said the wrong thing. Well, it's a wrong thing that leaves her getting a certain red-scaled Makari showing himself off in a way that she can't quite draw her eyes away from. Her lips part slightly fllowing the path of his claw tip before she very pointedly has to make herself look away. That wine is /very/ interesting.

After a far too deep drink from it, she wipes her mouth off on her forearm and makes some attempt to explain herself. "I simply took you for a skilled and well adorned Makari warrior. A hero. The sort that bravely fought against foes with grace and power." Her blue eyes flick up to him every so briefly, "If I'd said your beauty alone is all that mattered, that would feel like I'm only giving acknowledgement to part of who you are."

Then, she just shrugs. And then there is a nose a bit too close to her and she pokes him right on the center of it. "Well, I'm glad that I can flicker a bit of that fire, then."


Oh no. Not the snout boop. Aelwyn's eyes go crosseyed - and he responds by lightly snapping his teeth at her finger. A low rumble leaves him. "Too sweet? Tch, at least this one did not get doused." Grinding mouth, as the too familiar water bottle comes back to mind.

Wiping at his snouth, the ruddy sith-makar leans back away. "This one wonders what compels people to do that." He takes in a deep breath and glances her way, taking his tankard and slowly swirling the rest of its contents. "This one is barely any of those things, Twin." The Dragoon finally says, before he streeetches out on his seat, laying his arm across the back. "Though this one is humbled by her attention." Yep, he was hopelessly shameless and knew no regret.

The draconian tilts his horned head; those dried up ribbons tilting towards the side. Including the newer, longer once, and the worn down, barely hanging by a thread. "A hero, bravely fighting against foes with grace and power, wielding twin blades." He raises his tankard to his lips, kicking it back. A bit of it spills around his snout, and he licks the cooled wine off. "Though, this one supposes, this one particular hero's beauty could use a little bit more color, and more smiling." She can feel another tap from the end of his tail.


Rune sticks her tongue out at the Makari when he snaps his teeth at her. She's not actually worried that he might bite her. "Because you all give such fun reactions when we do." She replies, a wicked sort of grin twitching up the corner of her mouth.

As he dismisses her appraisal of him, Rune just raises her eyebrows, "Well, think of it this way. If you weren't beautiful, you wouldn't be able to draw the eye in a performance. Or like you were just drawing mine a minute ago." She doesn't seem to have any shame in that, either. "And if you weren't strong and graceful, you wouldn't kick just as much ass as I do in a fight." She gives a little huff that sounds very Makari in nature as she folds her arms across her chest. She can be just as stubborn, too.

The appraisal that is thrown back at her is met with little more than a stare of acknowledgement. "I'll accept that, if you accept yours. You're badass. Deal with it." She points in his direction, then takes another drink of her wine.

The tap of his tail has her looking over at him, just after she swallows the drink, laughing softly. "I smile just fine. You just happen to see me most when I'm off fighting shit."


"Hmmh," Aelwyn rumbles in turn. "She drives a hard bargain. " Yet this one hopes there is little more to his performance than a hot body on fire." His hand slowly dives into the fire between them; slowly coaxing the flames to climb ever higher. "To enchant eyes, and enthrall their minds to the sense of wonder." Fingers move in the fire - and soon the fire moves back. If it weren't just a trick, it would have looked like as if the fire were touching towards his fingers in turn. "Temptation that flickers..."

Then it's all gone in a snap, as Aelwyn instead moves to touch that fingertip against her nose.

"Though this one will gladly have her eyes trailing this one's body. Beatiful eyes are always a prize on their own." A slow grin spreads on his face. "Far better than the tongue of a mimic." A tongue flicks out. "From one 'badass' to another, she did quite the number on that tongue. It was quite the sight - rare this one has seen blades dance like the ones on Twin's hands."


Just as before, Rune's blue eyes seem to follow the movement of his hand, moving to the fire, watching the way that it moves with the passage of Aelwyn's fingers. "Well, I haven't had a chance to see you actually perform." She raises an eyebrow, as if this were a bit of a challenge. "So, maybe next time you'll have to give me a taste of what your shows were like with the troupe."

Boop.

Rune twitches her nose in a fashion that is almost cute. "Fair." She deserved that.

That playful look remains on her features as she laughs, "Don't remind me. I don't ever want to have a mimic anywhere that close to me again." Her hand eraches back, rubbing over a faint white scar that still lingers on her wrist. "I'm glad you appreciate, though. I've been working on getting my blades enchanted, which will certainly help." The weapons are currently hanging over the seat along with her cloak.

"Though, I've still got a lot to learn. I got hurt a bit too much recently. Owe Alaryn a pretty expensive healing potion. It was a mess." She sighs to herself.


There's an obvious cloud that appears on Aelwyn's face when the troupe is mentioned; and his hand slides over the silk covered box. The wood was worn and completely unremarkable, even the silk was now torn and tarnished. "Tch... those shows, they should remain beyond the waters." A moment later though, all that just flat out disappears and replaced with sudden bright, wide grin that looks quite ravenous. "Yet this one has worked on his own routine." A playful flick of his tongue leaves his mouth. "So perhaps whence this one convinces Sharkie to fireproof TarRaCe."

The ruddy sith-makar touches her hand with the back of his finger. "Failure is just an investment towards mastery." The Dragoon glances over his well-crafted, but in many ways mundane glaive, with its several ribbons and gold ornamentation slapped on top. "This one should talk to the smiths. Striking mimics and vines seems illfit for this one's companion."

Those orange eyes fall back upon hers, and he slowly sips the last of his tankard. "Should we brave the weathers, Twin? Or the patience of the barkeep?" He asks, sliding his tail over the empty seat. "This one is still curious of her connections."


Unlike many, Rune has spent a great deal of time among the Sith-Makari, so she has a bit more insight into their moods and emotions. It's not quite perfect, as there are still things she might miss, but that slight shift of Aelwyn's features and his hand moving over the box has her eyes following it. Her brows furrow with concern, but that quick shift of his expression back to a grin has her sitting back slightly. "If you ever want to talk about it... " She tilts her head, but doesn't push the matter further.

Instead, she looks to the touch against her hand, eyes flicking from there up to his eyes before giving a soft nod. "Agreed." Her lips form into a smile, "If nothing else, I'm getting far more practice since returning to Alexandria than I did in the months before. It's both exhilarating and a little scary."

Shifting eyes to the red Makari's weapon, she seems to consider it, "I'd recommend Alaryn. She's a little eccentric, but she's done good work for me." Her hand motions towards her weapons again. The pair is obviously enchanted, but the decoration is subtle enough to fit in with her shadowy nature.

At the suggestion of braving the weather, Rune looks out towards the windows. "Looks like it has let up a little bit. So probably as good a time as any to head out." She grabs her weapons, slinging them across her back, but not bothering to put on the upper layers of her armor again. Instead, it is just the cloak, which is still a bit damp, that she pulls over herself. Armor and wooden board are grabbed under one arm.

"Introductions might have to wait for a nicer day. I think a lot of the smaller stalls and shops are closed due to the weather. But..." She gives another of those warm smiles to the Makari, "I certainly don't mind giving the market another visit with you on a nicer day."


A low rumble leaves the sith-makar's throat. "She in market to dance?" He replies playfully to her question; but his hand grips the box and slowly begins to fold it under the red silk. It is pushed into the small leather bag. Slow and methodical, while he continues to stare at her eyes. "This one could show her how Kin do not dance; and she could show this one how they do." He lets out another low rumble, that thrums in his chest playfully. The bag snaps shut.

Aelwyn nods his head to her, "This one will keep the name in mind. A little thrill does not extent to a blade that fails." His orange eyes though, when she begins to pack her things, fall down to her shirt, and he tilts his head. A low flicker of his tongue leaves his mouth. "Twin too, knows how to attract a gaze." The forked tongue has its tips twist this way and that; in a slow fashion.

Yet the time has come, and he slowly weaves himself up to a stand. The leather cloak is pinned back over his shoulders, the bag thrown over, and his glaive picked up. "A tempting promise." He replies to her, moving to touch her side with his hip. "Perhaps when she is done carving the perch, this one will carefully fold her towel in the hot baths of the TarRaCe." A flash of his teeth. Towel boy and proud of it.

Settling into a more relaxed poise, he looks at her. "This one would wish to talk to her and Hotstone of the spire eventually - there are many things this one does not understand about it."


"She is not very good at dancing." It's quite possible that Rune is missing some innuendo in the comment, "In all my time in Am'shere, I don't think I learned a single dance, despite attending more than my fair share of Makari social functions." A soft laugh follows as she adjuts the straps for her weapons, then looks over towards Aelwyn. "Though, I don't mind having someone try to teach me."

A flash of color shows on her cheeks as he mentions the way she has of being able to draw the eye. The girl is a bit shy in that regard, raising her shoulders in a soft shrug.

"I'm sure there will be plenty of chances for that. The baths are one of my favorite places, afterall." She offers him a wink, then, shifting as she seems to have gathered everything and is ready to head out.

"Of course. We usually get a room at the in somewhere in the city, so I'll just send word so we can have a talk." She nods her head then, offering another small smile, "Let's see if I can navigate the rains without falling on my ass this time." Smirk.

"Take care, Aelwyn."


The sneaky little tail moves to tap at her ankles, as Aelwyn starts to move ahead. "Tch, if she does - she knows where to find the soap." A flick of his tongue.

There is a bow from the horned makari; his straight horns pointing straight ahead with the ribbons falling over. "May the skies..." The Dragoon stops, looks at the weather, then back at her. He leans his weight on one hip, a distorted grin on his face. "Let the sky not make her completely wet."

The draconian rumbles, and then moves to head out himself. Cloak pulled very high, as he makes way towards the dark.