Conflict of Philosophy

Log Info

• Title: Conflict of Philosophy
• Emitter: Slixvah
• Characters: Slixvah, Aelwyn
• Place: TarRaCe BathHouse
• Time: September 14th, 2022
• Summary: After a long yet boring shift, Slix and Aelwyn resume their on-duty chat in the bathhouse. Once settled, they go back on forth on why she apologized for her words earlier, and reveals to him the nature of her magics. Essentially, trying to figure out if he's a good person at heart or not. It's not so clear. A conflict of philosophy at play. Aelwyn is one to plunge into the unknown unflinchingly, Slix prefers to have all the cards before playing with fire. He does end up telling her what makes him tick, and its both confusing and eye opening. It's something to think over, well, before they attempt to drown the other in the pool.

The TarRaCe, late night.

It's after a long, somewhat dull (save for a few minutes) shift in the establishment. Patrons are basically nonexistent, the night crew is in now, cleaning up and running barebones for any nocturnal folks having the midnight munchies.

Taking advantage of there being practically no souls around, a rust red and white egalrin steps into the bathhouse looking remarkably bland. No layers of robes, no ribbons, no baubles and dangling trinkets. Just a pair a of neon blue bathing trunks and nothing else. Without all that cloth and weight, she's thin and wiry.

She steps up to the edge of the mixed pool, sighs in anticipated relief from the warm waters in front of her as well as the lack of anyone in there, and she spreads her arms and wings out wide.

She falls forward. >Splash!< Some water burbles before she flips over. Wings out, taking up a lot of space in the water with their twelve foot span, but blissfully glad she could splay out in the warmth.

She gets to luxuriate in the pleasant warmth of the TarRaCe branded baths for her time. Warmth. Space. All that water soaking up into her feathers, hitting the very bottom and taking away all that dust and dirt that always seem to cling onto them. Just. Bliss.

"Ribbon." A ruddy colored tip of a tail touches her wing. With a tilt of his head, Aelwyn watches the egalrin float in the pool. Or has been. The crouched down sith-makar can be sneaky when he wants to - which is pretty often, and very often he is not that sneaky.

"Enjoying the bath?" The draconian continues with a tilt of his head; still dressed up in his waiter uniform - white blouse, dark loincloth with those side flaps. At least the blouse was open from the front, letting that brightening, yellow-orange chest be in view.

Bliss filled that she was, the tap on her wing is met with a lazy hand trying to shoo it away. "Five mo' min..." she murmbles, the motion sending her in a painfully slow spin.

Question asked, a sky blue eye finally cracks open to spy an open blouse. She keeps her gaze there. She made her choice. Finally, her attention flicks up. "Yush. You still workin'?" she inquires, the view of the makari upside down.

It was a nice view. All that hard chiselled body, with smooth scales riding along the body craft by years of dance and wielding of the sith's glaive - and then there was the black loincloth. Aelwyn still did not like the black loincloth that much. It wasn't red enough.

"No, this one's shift is over. Some towels need folding." The Dragoon responds, glancing towards the piles of white fluffy towels. Arms laying upon his knees, he leans over to look at the mostly exposed egalrin. "Ribbon does look different without her ribbons. Should this one call her something else now? Exposed Rust?" The draconian teases with his teeth flashing. "

That aside, there's a short pause. Then the sith-makar continues, "She has time to talk?"

Slix is looking. "Mhmm," she hums, half paying attention before shaking her head to clear it. A wing extends against the pool's edge, feathers gaining their own life as they extend slightly to pull against side and right herself into a sitting position. She herself wasn't the most physically fit. And being soaking wet didn't help at all. She's certainly a runt of a bird.

A light laugh leaves her. "I think I'd get in troubles if I go around gettin' called Exposed, yeah?" she snipes back.

A brow raises. "I got lots of time. About four hundred years," she jokes, then, more practically. "Yeah, I do. What up?"

"This one thought it would roll better than naked." Aelwyn stretches out his legs and leans back; popping open the the golden cufflinks, he rolls up his sleeves haphazardly - clothes always did feel like they were about to fall off him. Clawed toes, he looks over Slixvah. He didn't mind at all his superior vantage point, runt or not. Kinship.

Her comment about four hundred years makes him tilt his head - but the sith-makar shakes his head. "Her apology." Another pause. Those fiery orange slit pupils turn towards her. "Why?"

"It probably would roll betta tha' that, yeah," Slixvah snickers. She affords the moment of him getting more comfortable to dunk her head into the water and scrub her face before coming up all drippy.

His head tilt makes her blink. "... you do know I live as long as an elf, right?" she supplements before-

Her apology? "Wuh?" That's like asking why you'd hold the door open for someone in her mind. "Be... cause I felt guilty stabbin' you with words? Stewed on it a bit and realized I regret some of wha' I said. Can't take it back, so ratha just admit a mistake," she answers honestly before it was her turn to shoot back. "Why's ya askin' why?"

Aelwyn shakes his head, "This one does not follow years. Fall of one sun is good as any other." The ruddy scaled sith-makar explains, "But four hundred years is a long time to wait for someone." He rumbles and thwaps his tail against the edge of the pool. Nope, totally not coiling from between his legs.

That chest expands as the ruddy scaled draconian inhales deeply, and then slowly exhales. "If she did not believe in the strength of her words, then why say them?" The draconian asks, before he leans off his arms and more towards her. Watching her drip and all. "Though this one supposes he passed her test." He rumbles with a grin. "Nearly. Wings are difficult to wind one's way around, are they not?"

"It is a long time to wait," Slix agrees, then holds up a finger, "But it gives me affordable time ta play until I do." Her eyes soften some. "Ya ain't gotta worry 'bout years like me. But otha's have ta. They've ain't got much but a handful."

Despite them being soaked, her crest feathers spring up as she tilts her head to the side. "I never said that. I still think you're selfish. But I also think you're capable of learning," she bluntly says.

The mention of a test makes her frown. Less in the face and more of in the droop of her eyes. "Nearly," she echoes, though it had a tinge of distain of it being associated with some kind of test. Her beak grinds in thought, gaze going from his grin down to an aimless spot in space. Her knuckles rap against the side of the pool with a steadily increasing tempo. "Alright, Flutter, I'll spill the beans. It's what I was /trying/ to tell you during dinner."

"Hmmh." Aelwyn just lets out in response to being called selfish again. It was hard to say if he was taking it as a motion of pride now - considering his 'grin' seemed only wane so much and his chest puffed out just touch. Nope, he was just reaching out for the neatly folded pile of a towel. Towel boy.

Floofing out the white towel between his hands, he expertly unfolds it. "And what did she try to tell during the dinner?" The Dragoon asks and tilts head. The towel is held out just a touch - before he reaches out and attempts to try her feathers out with the floffy cotton. "Spilling the beans does not seem to be very effective way of communicating one's thoughts, Ribbon."

Seems like Slix wasn't one to walk back from her observations and words, but was at least willing to bear the brunt of the consequences. But what she was /not/ expecting was a towel to start drying her head.

It stymies her words, a contrast of gentleness from the usual blunt banter. "O... out. From tha' base outwards..." she quietly instructs, a hand reaching up to show how to dry it correctly.

A little sigh leaves her. "... it ain't but..." Her head shakes lightly. "There's somethin' ya should know about me. The things I do. Th' magic I gots."

A hand raises, gesticulating to assist in laying out her thoughts. "There's... an underlyin' theory of a lot of things in the world. Everything is connected. People, places, things, ideas. Call it the Tapestry. /I/ can poke the strings. Cut 'em. Fix 'em. See what's ahead a little bit. It's how I do my mojo. You've been on some jobs wit' me, you've seen it. I push luck around."

She turns to him, nestling into the towel briefly before continuing. "Luck, however, isn't random. And this Tapestry sorta has a way of mending itself the longer I stay in one place. This extends ta people. It takes days sometimes for an iota of it to pop up, but it happens, I see it. Things get way too lucky. I'm tryin' ta figure out how ta chill it out after... ten years."

A beat, then she looks right at him, sighing. "I'll cut to the chase: basically, I wanted dinner so I could gauge if you're a good person. So if my 'situation' affected you, you wouldn't take advantage of it."

Aelwyn quickly adjusts his grip to follow her instructions, but he was surprisingly efficient at it. Even if he did such a poor job on his scales at the best of times. Then again, what is better than having hot water steam off his scales?

The sith-makar lets her speak - mostly, occasionally he tweaks at her wayward feathers for seemingly no other reason than to see how she reacts. Eventually though, he lowers the towel on his lap and stares at her. "And if this one did, what would she do?" He asks, also quite bluntly. His hand raises up in the air. "Would that make this one worse person?"

Though then his lips begin to curl outwards. "Though she still seems to place suspiciously low amount of worth on me. Even the crimson troupe would not have." A pause. "And we were always hawking for a better trade." His slender reptilian tail moves to rest over her feathery one. "Besides, her luck seemed to have ran out that night." Another stupid grin of his.

The tweaks are met with various reactions. From not noticing, as she was talking, to ruffling a bit, as well as a singular instance of 'you'll mess up my pattern if you break that one'.

Slix idly kicks her feet in the water as she sits next to him, tail feathers splayed out on the ground behind her. She's not said anything in response yet, beak grinding. Her tell of 'I'm thinking'.

Though, the joke breaks her silence with a giggle. "Yeah, seems like it did durin' that." She sighs, looking up at him. "Put yourself in my shoes. Err-" she looks to both of their taloned feet. "-... robe? Feathers? Whatever. You possess tha capability of twisting fate in the slightest manner. And anyone around you gets the best possible outcome. What if ya hang out with bad folk and ya never knew? What if ya hung around corrupt nobles and ya never asked questions?"

Her wings splay out behind her as she gestures to Aelwyn. "I don't place low worth on you, honey. Ya good at what ya do, I recognize that. But I don't know /you/ well. You don't know /me/ well. Tha's what the dinner was fo'. I don't know what drives ya. Do you see my predicament now?"

Aelwyn takes in a deep breath, though this time with that slight grin on his face. Closest thing he'll ever get to smiling, probably. His shoulders roll as he stretches out; chest expanding. Quiet pops echo through his spine. "And what if this one's presence inspires one to commit larceny? His glaive put to work for good, only for the good to turn bad?" He relaxes then. "What if one of our jobs done for the poor and downtrodden were to hide a larger offense?"

The Dragoon looks at her then. "It is as if she has the hold of the wheel of fortune, and now she is trying to control the flow of life itself." His grin widens. "Isn't that very self-righteous of her?"

The ruddy sith-makar then places an arm behind her and leans in closer, flat snout besides her face. "She does not know me. I do not know her." A moment of a pause as he lets out a little thrum off his chest. "Isn't the plunge in to the unknown part of the thrill?" The thick middle of his tail slowly rolls up and falls down with a heavy thud.

Slixvah meets the grin with a slight huff. "Yes yes yes, there is many 'what-if's. I've traumatized myself with that for many years. Ya can't account for everything, but I can at least cull soem of tha issues."

Her brows pinch slightly. "Control the flow of lif- honey, self-righteous would be going far out of my way ta tip things in my favor. I'm jus' havin' basic decency trying to not fuss things up fo' people. Can't have good things without bad things. No push without pull."

Then he was closer, much closer. She doesn't lean away, but doesn't advance either. A glance to the thud before looking back to him. "... that may get your rocks off, but I don't work like that, sugar," she says quietly, a hand reaching forward, crossing the space between them to rest on the arm behind her. "If I didn't have this? This incredibly stressful thing on my mind at all times? Yeah. Sure. We can plunge into each other's unknowns-" she quietly laughs at that- "but I am not an agent of chaos. I gotta be mindful of where I make a splash. Momma always told me that a pebble can make a landslide. Granted, that was about leaving toys out, but I get what she meant."

"How this one gets rocks off? She seems confident she knows." Aelwyn rumbles in amusement, but then he raises his hand. Holding it vertical between them, claws stretches out. "Cull some, perhaps, but comes a point where she'll be burning more. Can she fight against the will of the wind? Control her wings, perhaps -" Fingers move, "Push against the wind. Eventually though, she will either fly or tire, and the wind will carry on, heedless of her wishes and attempts." He tilts his head, as if to need to think for a moment. "... that is as much as this one has been told."

Leaning away, the ruddy sith-makar takes in a deep breath and lets it out lightly. "No, this one does not understand her and her relationship with the tapestry of this lady fortune;" He freely admits, hands spreading out the towel in front of him. "Yet she is placing it between us as if it mattered more than the two of us." The towel is stretched out in the air, held out for a second.

And then the Dragoon tosses it over Slixvah's head. "If she wishes to know more of me, then she will have to take a chance. All things in life, eventually, one has to brave the fire."

Slix snorts at that, shaking her head, but listens quietly for the most part. "The wind," she starts, gaze unfocused like she was recalling a memory. "Is something you do not fight against. It has its own will. It will thrash you against the stone walls of the mountains if you do not respect it. But you can feel where it goes, where it wanes, where it swells. And with it, a slight nudge to take you where you need to go." She closes her eyes.

A small sigh before she opens them. Again, she doesn't speak just yet, listening and thinking. Finally, she-

"Ack!" she squawks, flailing slightly before catching herself. There's a quiet laugh under the towel. But sudden solitude allows for a moment of thought. The towel is pulled down to her lap, and her crest feathers press against her head. Her chipper mood dips.

"Aelwyn, dancer for the crimson troupe. Keeper of promises and services rendered for coin and wares, learning scribes, serving in restaurants, dancing with flames. Raised away from the People," she slowly lists out. "I am not you. I do not brave fires. I fix what it torches. Or stoke it to bring warmth. You ask me to close my eyes and walk forward to understand you."

"These are your terms. Have you once, ever, had care to regard my terms?" she asks, honestly.

Well, that was positing it quite brutally. Aelwyn is even slightly taken aback by the statement. He twists his lips for a moment - but then a lot of him relaxes. "No." He answers. Yet he suddenly holds up his finger and presses it against her beak. "She lists what she sees, not what this one is. For many, that is enough." He slowly grins then. "And if that is enough for her, then there is no need for another word. A barter like any other."

The mane of quills over his back flexing and then relaxing. He moves the beak-touching hand over them to smooth them out; and his tail thumps against the edge of the pool. "But regard for her terms?" He turns his head away, still continuing to grin. "If she wants to be sure, then she has to understand, does she not?" Tilting his head. "And for this one to persuade her, he has to give not fire for her luck, but something she knows will not burn."

A pause and he turns towards her, "Are these the terms she is speaking about?" And then finally, he leans in and slightly grins at her. "Or does she simply wish to know if this one is an selfish bastard that has no regard for her and her desires and just wants to get between her pretty legs?"

The answer of a 'no' make's Slix open her beak slightly in surprise. A direct answer. Right after that, a mish-mash of emotions that make various feathers floof and press. Ticks that don't cross the egalrin-makari barrier. Were she softskin, her face would bit a massive mixture. However, right after that, she's silenced with a finger.

Still, she's doesn't say a word, introspection paramount as he continues. "... mutual understanding of one's drives and morals," she amends. "You're basically right."

She's given a grin. It's returned with a soft expression. "That is something I wish to know, were it to be actually true, but I not wish for it to be true," she murmurs.

"... fine. You want to bargain? After what I've given?" she shakes her head. "Here's my end. My favor you owe me. I'm calling it in."

"Answer me this: what drives you? How do you see the world? You were evasive during dinner," she requests, hinging on him making good on his deals.

Aelwyn shakes his head at her, "She wishes to share, this one will listen. Will this share? Perhaps." A teasing grin slips on his face again. "Perhaps that is why he wanted to talk to her." He rumbles, and then he reaches out and begins to take off the white blouse. The moisture was starting to make it stick it on his glistening scales; the heated scales picking up the dewy drops.

Discarding the cloth, he tilts his head. Then he gives a throaty, a rumbling chuckle and he holds up his hand. "That is not worthy trade, and this one will reject it. She has paid enough." Steepling his fingers and then stretching them out in front of him - before he raises his arms and gives his shoulders a proper stretch.

Those hands then lower on his thighs. Looking at her with a playful stare, he then taps his thighs with his hands. "Sit between this one's legs and this one will tell her." The sharp teeth glint. Challenge cast.

"I have shared," Slix frowns, expecting him to divert and distract again. But she blinks, surprised. Not from the display- which wasn't letting sit there on by itself, eyes flitting over it-, but from him actually taking the time to relay his intentions. And, well, the fact that she got her favor back.

He's got a playful gaze, she's not picking up on it. "Er, alright. Gonna warn ya, it's gonna we awkward."

She stands, walks over, then plops down in front of him. Taloned feet siutated oddly, wings clunk clumsily with knees and legs. "Sorry," she mumbles before getting situated somewhat. Slix is facing him now. "Aight, coo', glad ta know that night wouldn't have worked like this," she lightly laughs, but she's ready to listen.

For some reason this awkwardness comes as a surprise to the shorter sith-makar. Rumbling, he spreads his legs to try and accommodate her - thankfully he was flexible enough to accomodate even larger birds.

"Hmmh, just need to try a little harder. Surely one can fit with the other." The draconian rumbles back at her. "She wishes to know what drives this one." Flicking his hands out, he spreads his arms. Straightening his back, he keeps his orange gaze on her - and then he reaches out to touch her wings. "It is very simple. Enough for this to walk away from his troupe."

Caress her feathers.

Gliding down their curve. Leaning further forward with his hands, he flicks his forked tongue at the egalrin, with those teeth shining from his split cheeks. A low rumble leaves his throat as he hover so ever near her, hands on those wings.

"This one wishes to fly."

It's mostly just a physiology issue. Thankfully she's still small compared to most. Slix rolls her eyes, leaning back on a hand. "With effort, yeah," she chuckles.

But, alas, she pays attention to him. Normal fluster is absent as the dragoon goes for her wings. They're folded tightly behind her back (to minimize clonking against knees), but the unfurl slightly at the touch. Showing off.

Slix glances to the entrance as he draws close, but her eyes half lid, flit over to the man, and she tilts her head to the side ever so faintly. "... that is a good reason," she murmurs back. "I take it that both wanting to spread your wings and literally wishing to do so?"

"Hmmh, perhaps if this one had wings. Is there a difference?" Aelwyn responds with a low amused rumble, then slowly begins to lean away with his hands flowing through her feathers. Eventually the clawed fingertips reach the root of those wings, and he gives a light rake across her back. "This one wants to feel the sky. It feels the only way to be free."

A few moments later, he tilts his head and looks at her. "Is she satisfied?" The Dragoon asks with an amused rumble - and then his hands move back over those feathery appendages; now slowly but firmly beginning to massage their joints. "Or does she need more words to sate her curiosity? Or a demonstration, perhaps?" Maybe all of this was a ploy in the end.

Slix tilts her head the other way, upwards, thoughtful. "... it is freeing, yeah. Bein' one wit' the sky. There's a certain amount of liberation ta it."

Any other idle musings are stymied by claws. And the joint pressure. Those sure are tense from all the flying around. Slix can't help but slump a bit into a semi-melt against him. "I..." words were hard. "I can help with... with that. The... flying bit..."

The hands were filled with devilry and what feels like endless knowledge of how to tweak the tense muscle just so. Aelwyn rumbles in amusement near the side of her head. "Hmmh, perhaps this one really knows how to massage wings." He points out, and then slowly moves his flattened snout against her feathers.

With a low, teasing thrum in his voice, throbbing throughout his chest, he teasingly whispers at her. "She wants me to mount her?"

Slixvah is dead. Well, not really, but the way she's limp suggests otherwise. Save for breath being drawn. "... should work the... the massage tables..." she manages to get out.

After that comment, Aelwyn can feel feathers sliding against his hands. Unraveling. A slosh of water. Then, over her shoulder, a braided cord of pool-soaked feathers bonk against his skull. She animates somewhat, laughing quietly as she attempts to right herself. "We gots a comedian here," she teases. "No, I don't have a saddle or nothin' like that. But, what I do got is some mojo that'll levitate ya. Make ya float. Can pull you high up in the sky and chuck ya far."

Aelwyn was so focused on the massage and teasing the side of her head - that the bonk gets him by surprise. "Unnghh." The ruddy sith-makar groans, rubbing at his head with his quills. He is quick to recover though, hands leaving her as he readjusts those red quills. "Hmmh, this one does not do comedy. Too serious for this one."

Tilting his head at her offer, the draconian looks at the egalrin for a moment. Then after another - his tail whips around in front of his waist. "This one saw the airships. If this one simply wanted to be in the sky; they would be enough." The Dragoon shakes his head. "This one would rather fly."

Another moment passes. Aelwyn lifts his hands and tail to give the egalrin a firm shove towards the pool.

Slixvah giggles at his reaction and recovery. "You're good at jokes, that one was pretty funny," she opines. "Sadly, I ain't a griffon, and you won't get far on my back. Take up the massage table on the other hand... well, we'll see," she winks.

Her head tilts to the side at her offer being turned down. "On ya own? I mean, I'm sure I could help ya figure out how ta sort that o- oomph!"

The egalrin tumbles ass over teakettle backwards and lands with a splash into the pool, water getting thrown into the air.

There's a beat of nothing. Some bubbles surface. Then, a familiar looking braid of feathers slinks out of the waters and sweeps wide for his leg. It wraps around the limb and attempts to drag him into the pool like some sort of shoddy horror story.

Aelwyn could do nothing but help grinning by himself - his gambit having worked so brilliantly. Perhaps getting smacked around in the Colosseum has taught him something. Slowly, the ruddy sith-makar begins to ascend back onto his feet.

Unfortunately, the egalrin's feathers had different ideas. A very sith-makar curse word was beginning at the end of his throat, before he gets sweeped into the waters as well.

Thankfully his waiter's black loincloth was very well designed against spills.

And baths. Breathing quickly in deep, the Dragoon splashes in the water - before shooting directly at Slixvah, trying to chase and glomp her down in the pool.

Slix surfaces with a deep breath, her busting out laughing as her quickly though reversal working out. "Ahahaha, gottem! Bet you didn't see tha' comi- awfiddlefuck-" Aaand he's coming straight for. Right. Makari are really good in water.

... makari are really good in the water! She just barely manages to chant out, "Aekm htaw I esdier!", hands glowing a greenish hue before making a big splash in front of her. Just in time, as she's plunged into the depths from his attack.

Slix is now a red scaled makari with white scales that swirl amongst each other, spines lining their back all the way to the tip of their tail. "Try me!" she grins underwater, playful and ready to retort in the silly watersport.

GAME: Slixvah casts Alter Self. Caster Level: 5 DC: 16

Aelwyn could do nothing but appreciate the new coloring as he floats in front of her. Teeth exposed in a wide grin, his own tail whips behind him. "What else?" He seems to suggest - and then he kicks off in a mad dash, spinning her further into the depths of depraved game of whomever-survives-the-depths-of-the-relaxing-bath-water.

-End Scene-