Lizards, Lunch, and Liars

Log Info

Title: Be A Wight In The Darkness
Emitter: Eztli
Characters: Aelwyn, Eztli, Skielstregar
Place: The Tarrace
Time: June 19th, 2022
Summary: Eztli is getting a drink after a bath at the Tarrace, and runs into Aelwyn, who is working at the tavern, and Skielstregar, who is also coming to relax. They join each other at the bar, and Aelwyn offers to buy Skielstregar a drink as way of apology for their training the other day. Aelwyn returns to his work after unfortunately, leaving just Eztli and Skielstregar to talk. He asks about Eztli's past, which she is evasive of, and talk turns instead to what it means to be a sith-makar culturally, something Eztli is trying to figure out. The talk ends abruptly, as Eztli flees the tavern, seemingly bothered by something, and possibly lying about her past.

The TarRaCe, early afternoon.

While recent events had put a damper on things, they were not enough to bring down the popularity of the establishment when it opened up it's doors yet again. Many of the tables were populated by those who came from training at the colosseum, or workers from the lower districts looking for a place to relax or share a drink before returning to finish their duties. And the bathhouse attached was always a popular addition.

Eztli had decided to avail herself of the amenities herself. Feeling refreshed, and more than a bit thirsty, the small makari wandered over to the bar, hopping onto one of the seats and spending a few moments tugging her tail to get it to sit right over the back of the stool.

Skielstregar has arrived.

When there were patrons, there were plenty of dishes to wash and tables to clean. In this case, also plenty of towels to pickup. Aelwyn steps out from the direction of the bathhouse with his polearm stretched across his shoulders - two heavy looking bags were balanced across the unfortunate weapon. The ruddy scaled Dragoon was shimmering with moisture and heat; his scales shiny and lustrous from the humidity. The draconian grunted as he headed across the floor in just his loincloth.

A few moments after Eztli gets situation, a familiar voice speaks out to her. "Spellcrier, nest in peace." Aelwyn greets, bowing his head. And not trying to stab anyone with the sharp end of his glaive.

He's big. He's shiny. He's clanking with each step.

It's a golem!

Nope, wait, it's Skielstregar. He's ducking under the entrance to the establishment, a hand reaching up to pull the blade of the halberd down further so he wouldn't clip it (who knows however many times he's done that.) He rises to his full height once he gets into the high ceilings, dead gaze scanning about...

The silverscale perks up. Oh! Friends! He slowly makes his way over, taking care not to barrel any smaller folk and furniture over as he does so. "Peassse on your nessst, Dancer Aelwyn and Eztli," he rumbles happily.

The small makari finally managed to settle down in the seat, doubly difficult from how their feet dangled a ways off of the floor. They had taken one of the menus off of the counter, and were perusing it when Aelwyn made his presence known. The small sorceress turns back, and smiles, giving him a wide wave. "Ah, Aelwyn! Peace on your nest. I take it you were in the baths? I didn't see you there, I was on the women's side though. You're looking quite well, I would say." She greets, before turning to wave at the unmistakeable form at the door. "And peace on your nest as well, Skielstregar. Were you out training or something?"

Aelwyn shakes his head, "Working the male side." Though when he gets complimented, he does straighten out a bit. Maybe flexes those scales and that mane of his a little bit. Preen preen. "As does she, the bath must have been kind on her."

The incoming presence of Skielstregar can be hardly missed though, and Aelwyn was already settling down his laundry haul down to the floor when the large silvery figure makes his entrance known. "Silver." The Dragoon greets, "It is good to see him walking with such poise again. Any bruising left?"

Skiel was out of earshot before he got up to the bar proper, him affording a wave on the return hail. "Yesss, thisss one wasss," he nods to Eztli.

He blinks at Aelwyn, glances down at his feet, then turns towards the bar. "... it ssstill sssmarts," he evades in a half answer, embarrassed as he gets himself something to drink.

"That's kind of you to say Aelwyn, but I'm not too sure about that. Can't exactly look cleaner after a bath when you already look like a muddy tundra to begin with." Eztli snickers. "Just working though? You really should try out the baths yourself at some point."

Eztli waves again, and winces just a bit. "Well, I hope the training went well. I ah, sorry it still hurts though, Skielstregar. I shouldn't have prodded you both on like I did, that probably didn't help things."

Aelwyn reaches down and picks up one of the towels, starting to wipe off some of the moisture from his face. "It may be worse, one could look as if they fell out of a furnace." He grins with his wide, cheek splitting grin. Then he tilts his head, "Why does she think I am trying to find the coin here specifically?" He says, gesturing towards the baths. "The baths are nice." Even wider grin.

Turning towards the big hulking silver sith-makar, the shorter draconian's grin wanes and he moves to... well, stretches up to, pat the large fellow on the shoulder. "It will wane. Silver's drink will be on my coin." He tilts his head back. "Perhaps next time we shall practice more, beat each other less, yes?"

Skielstregar looks between the two before commenting off the cuff as he picks up a giantborn-sized flagon handed over to him. "There isss beauty in a tundra," he rumbles. "It'sss fine, thisss one hasss had worssse." He idly scratches at his breastplate over his chest.

The shoulder pat is met with a firm nod and a hum, him leaning against the metal bar. "Yesss, more practice. Thisss one apologizesss for the way it went. It issss hard to pull punches when you're... well..." he gestures vaguely at himself. "Thisss one won't turn it down. Thank you."

"Well, people don't always use things where they work. Sometimes they get tired of being around it too much." Eztli shrugs. "But I'm glad you've enjoyed them. All I'm saying though, is that when you already look dirty, it's not going to change much when you have a bathe. Not that it's an excuse not to, though."

"I get it, sparring needs to actually be close to the real thing so you don't develop bad habits sometimes. But, maybe less beating up would be good still. Should I buy you both a meal as thanks for letting me watch then? Even if you did start without me."

Aelwyn idly rubs his jaw. A feeling of ache surrounded it. The smaller draconian shakes his head firmly. "It was not the punches - it was not being able dodge them. That should have been easy." The Dragoon huffs, arms crossed across his chest. "Silver is large enough that his moves should be obvious all the way to the audience."

The ruddy scaled sith turns towards Eztli. "Perhaps that is true - but how can anyone tire of the baths?" He wonders, genuinely. To her offer though, he glances at the two laundry bags at his feet, then back up to her. "Spellcrier's offer is appreciated, but perhaps after the shift?"

Skielstregar looks down at Eztli as he takes a long pull from his flagon (from the side of the maw, these darn things aren't made for makari). Stares for a long moment. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he intones, "Thisss one usssed to feel like you do, Eztli. But like thisss one said, there isss beauty in the tundra. In Ea."

He turns slightly towards Aelwyn and rubs his neck. "Thisss one apologizesss. While thisss one'sss moves ssshould seem straightforward, they are usssed to finishing problemsss as briskly asss posssible by any meansss."

The halberd drips ink.

"Sorry Eztli," he murmurs. "Erm, sssure. Thisss one mussst warn you, they eat a lot."

"As oppossed to your movess not being obviouss? You are ssuppossed to be a dancer after all, of some ssort." Eztli laughs. "Ah, I didn't know you were sstill on duty, I hope I'm not keeping you here overlong and rissking trouble. I wass going to assk if you wanted to demonstrate some of the dancing you have mentioned a few timess, what with there being a vacant sstage over there."

"Don't worry about it, it iss my treat, whether I am ordering for a giantborn appetite or not. I will have time to ssave to get ssomething another time for Aelwyn, sso that will work out. And, well, thank you, the compliment iss sstill appreciated. Maybe it sshall sstick at ssome point."

Aelwyn shakes his head quickly at Skielstregar, "Not Silver, _I_ should have been able to dodge them." The Dragoon grunts. When Eztli points out the completely valid criticism of his moves, there was a visible dark curtain that fell over his face. Well, not a curtain. Just a towel he wiped his brow with. Quickly though, he leans up and grins widely. "How many times did the glaive miss?"

At the suggestion of performing, he turns to look towards the stage, then back at her. He had a more somber look on his face. "It was the plan, but the fire became a problem." He moves to grab his glaive and the laundry, lifting them over his shoulders with a grunt. "Next time, I will perform to both of them." His toothy grin returns on his face. "Perhaps Silver can serve as the backdrop. Imagine the fire dancing on his scales."

The Dragoon bows deeply before leaving. "Enjoy the meal."

Skielstregar nods his large head. "It took thisss one sssome time to let it ssstick for them."

He tilts his head to the side to the Dragoon. "Your glaive didn't missss often." He shifts a bit on his feet. "And thisss one's weapon wiffed quite a lot."

He blinks, then snorts. "Thisss one will ssserve a perfect backdrop. They will not move, just ssshine a light on them and they will ssserve as the perfect ssshiny effects. But ah, peassse on your nessst."

He turns to Eztli, waving to Aelwyn as he goes, then finds a couple of stools. Two were needed, as one would probably snap underneath him. Skiel sits carefully. "Very well, thisss one will have whatever the ssspecial isss today."

"... That wass not ssuppossed to be an inssult." Eztli sighs. "A dancer iss just very evocative with their movementss, are they not?"

"Well, thiss one can alwayss sstand by with a bucket of water in that casse, it would give a better view of it, anywayss." The small makari laughs. "It will be looked forward to, then, and Sskielsstregar would make an excellent mirror ball. Peace on your nesst, Aelwyn."

She waves him off, leaving her with Skielstregar sitting nearby. "I am ssurprissed by that, what with how nice your sscaless are and everything." Eztli muses. "But there may be more to it. I am not ssure what the sspecial is today, but I am ssure it will be good."

Skielstregar reaches over, patting the much smaller makari on the shoulder. "It isss okay. But sssometimesss yesss, but not alwaysss."

The Warrior gets his order sorted out with the barkeep: seems like the special today is a braised beef, sorrel thrown into a stew of beans and rice. Also known as, get all the leftovers out.

He slowly nods, looking off to his mug. "Thisss one ussed to not look like thisss," he admits after a long moment. He rolls a shoulder forward, and a hand pulls his brown and blue cloak to the forefront. There are large, tarnished and brassy colored scales that seem flaky and flimsy sewn onto the fabric. He taps one. "Thisss one ussed to be covered in thesse."

eztli stops to finally point out an order to one of the bartenders, opting for some roasted fish and a glass of white wine to accompany it.

"Oh, you looked like how this one almost looks now." Eztli chuckles quietly. "Well, you look better now, but I can't say they look awful, either. That would kill whatever pride I have left in my own appearance, after all."

Skielstregar presses a talon down onto one of the scales. It creaks, then snaps, showing a faintly silver layer in the center. "The scales were rotting," he says in a deadpan. "You, on the other hand, are not rotting. You. Look. Fine." His talon clacks against he metal bar with each beat. "But pleassse, do not sssit here and degrade yourssself. Thisss one hass gone through too much ssself loathing to sssee another inflict it upon themssselves."

"Oh, that's a bit different, yeah. My scales are not rotting, or anything like that. They're just fine, for what that's worth." Eztli sighs, taking the glass brought over while she waited for her meal.

"Sorry, I'm working on it. It's an ongoing process. I don't have the confidence that Un'eth has, or the others back in Mictlan. Kind of happens when you don't know any sith-makar for so long."

Skielstregar chuffs. "It'sss a processs," he nods once. His gaze flicks over the small makari, him running a hand over his snout. "... you've... spoken of thisss before. How were you raisssed then?"

"I'm working on it though, honest. That's not me trying to pretend I'm working on it and ignoring it, either."

The small makari reaches for her glass of wine, and spends a moment trying to figure out how best to drink it, before tipping back almost half of it into her mouth. "How was I raised? Well, I like to think I was raised well." Eztli chuckles, then sighs. "Just been living in Dragonier for most of my life, so, that's what I know. At least after escaping from Charn, that is. And Charn isn't the best place to figure things out, either."

GAME: Eztli rolls bluff: (20)+9: 29

GAME: Skielstregar rolls sense motive: (15)+1: 16

Skielstregar gets his dish, though he ignores it for a spell to focus on the little one. He squints a bit, then raises a brow. "Thisss one knowsss thisss, but /how/ were you raisssed? With whom? What wasss your ness- err, home life like?"

Eztli blinks, and tilts her head slightly. "Oh, like that?" She asks. "Well, you said you know how it is in Charn. Can we just talk about that later, please? I haven't had nearly enough to drink to talk about it too much at the moment."

"I don't really like talking about my past, what with everything that happened, especially recently."

Skielstregar stares at her a moment overlong. "... but you sssaid you grew up in Dragonier, not Charn."

Another chuff leaves him, this time an annoyed one. "But fine. Asss you wisssh, what do you want to speak about then? My topics are exhausted."

"Well, you can't take one without the other, in terms of growing up, can you? Like, Dragonier is easier to talk about I guess, but even that's hard.

Eztli sighs, and finishes off the wine before fish even arrived. She waves down for another. "I'm sure you have other tings to talk about Like, what it's like to be a sith-makar? What is it I'm not getting, like how did you know Aelwyn wasn't a girl? I don't want to have to go kicking people there to find out again.""

Skielstregar ladles some of his meal with a spoon, a dead silver eye watching the smaller makari. ".. thisss one sussspossess..." He sighs.

The makari takes another sip (massive gulp for others). "To be a makari..." he murmurs.

The man thinks a long moment. "... there isss a lot of culture within the sith-makar. Mossst of it dealsss with unity. The People, with a capital P, that isss, refersss to all makari. We live in harsssh landsss that try and kill consstantly, asss all we have wasss each other. Even when thisss one was taken from The People and make their way back, they were accepted with open armssss."

He blinks, then snorts. "Mossst softssskinsss can't tell the difference. It'sss in the face bonessss and the ssshouldersss. But the bessst way isss by ssscent. It isss... hard to explain. But essentially, malesss smell... heavy, dense? Females smell... light? Sparse?"

Eztli finally got her meal, and she pulls the plate closer to work on freeing the fish from it's skeleton while sipping more on the wine, which was difficult, each attempt more like a small gulp. She stops to pull a notebook out of her robes, and begins jotting down notes with an ornate looking pen.

"That sounds nice, well, not the harsh land full of killer things, but I guess that's why everyone was so less concerned in mictlan with everything ggoing on. I mean, the acceptance is nice, I kind of noticed that."

"The face and shoulders though, I'm trying to see it, but I'm not quite sure. Then again, I don't really know any female sith-makar, other than, well, me." She sighs. "I, kind of get what you mean. But I don't know if I want to go ask if I can smell someone to commit it to memory."

Skielstregar nods slowly. "Amshere isss a harsssh land, but isss home for mossst."

He eyes the notebook a moment before finishing off his drink. "Makari have an acute sssense of sssmell. It takesss time to hone. Basssicaly, if the air smellsss heavy near kin, they are probably male. Like... after a heavy rain. But more... dense."

"Is that why people moved out of there?" Eztli asks, setting down the book. "Or, why are people in Alexandria if not back home? Being less dangerous feels like it makes the most sense and all"

"All I really notice is how much worse the city smells than most people usually find it" The small makari grumbles. "I'll be walking by an alleyway or sometimes near the docks and feel like gagging. But, I guess that makes sense. I just thought you and Aelwyn smelled like, well, sith-makar? But if you're both male, then that would make sense."

Eztli reaches for her glass again, emptying it again so she could ask for another, finally turning to the fish.

Skielstregar shakes his head. "No. Raiding parties from softskin Charn take usss asss servantsss and turn usss into monssstersss..." he rumbles with a bit of a scowl. He rubs one of his large fangs.

"Yesss... thisss city is very... rank. Strong. It isss overwhelming at times. If you need to clear your sensesss, the river isss good to ressst in." He nods, ladling more food. "Mmmm... yesss. If you sssee ssshaman Un'eth, sssshe isss female."

"Oh, that's, that's awful. Is Mictlan just a settlement of refugees from Charn then?" Eztli asks, frowning, or attempting to frown slightlyy. "I guess I understand that, though. And, yes, it is very strong smelling. I didn't think of going to the riverbank, I'll have to remember that whenever I'm getting a headache from all of that."

She sighs, and pokes at some of the fish until she gets enough for another bite. "I'll have to talk to her again, she's nice, and confident, unlike me. Maybe I need to eat more, and that's why I'm so short. But I don't think I see that changing, really."

Skielstregar shakes his head. "No. Mictlan isss a sssecond home. It isss near a portal than goesss back to home, asss there isss sssome treaty with thisss city for mutual protection. Thisss one doessssn't know all the ssspecifics, they are not a ssshaman, or a lore keeper."

He snorts. "You're probably ssstuck ssshort, just like thisss one's ssssister. But there isss nothing wrong with being ssshort. Jusssst like there issss nothing wrong with being tall. Or thin or fat. It isss sssimply you."

He finishes the last of his meal (it's not hard, he's got a big mouth), and swirls a finger for another drink. "Ssshaman Un'eth hasss many, many centuriesss of life under them. They are also very wissse, they have helped thisss one many a time when their confidence wasssn't what is waasss now."

"There's nothing wrong with being short I guess. I guess." Eztli grumbles. "Yeah, it's okay, it's just me."

"Many centuries? And I thought one was getting older. I guess that makes sense, she's a lot more used to things and has a lot of experience to draw on. I guess that's why she was able to help you so much? That was nice of her, and nice that it helped you so much"

Another large mug is brought out for him as Skiel leans against the counter. "Kin live for a long, long, time..." he rumbles. "Thisss one is very very young sstill. They have hornss, but nothing grandiose like yoursss or Ssshaman Un'eth'sss." He knocks a fist against some simple horns that jut out of the sides of his head past the brow. They go back a little bit, the rest of his skull at most.

"It alssso helpsss that ssshe wasss familiar with thisss one'sss... hmm.. ssshall we ssay, problem." He taps the tarnished silver scale on his cloak.

"Oh, yeah? I didn't know it was an age thing, or that it could be used like that. Another thing to keep in mind."

"You should be in bed then, young man."

She reaches up in an attempt to path Skielstregar on the head, even stretching to the point she was wobbling on her stool, and fails utterly. The small makari huffs. "Doesn't have the same impact without that." She grumbles. "Your problem? Well, if she understood, that's helpful. You've been awfully helpful, yourself."

Skielstregar blinks, then snorts off to the side, a gout of frozen air washing over the metal bar and frosting some of it. "Hah. Very funny," he chuckles.

Seeing the struggle, he stoops down a bit to make it easier for her to reach. "Worry not, thisss one's sssister mussst do sssimilar."

What equates to a grin plasters across his visage, though it's mostly a show of sharp teeth and long fangs. "Thank you. Thisss one triesss their bessst to help people. It worksss... sssometimesss. They try their bessst to reflect the Dragonfather. Or... Daeusss, in sssoftssskin terms." He thumbs his dragon's profile amulet.

Eztli only huffs again when he stoops lower, and she is able to reach to pat him on the head. She pats it a few times, before she sits back down on her stool. She sighs, and takes the glass of wine that was brought over, downing it in one. "You're doing a really good job of it, being a follower of Daeus and all. You've been kind and reassuring and all that."

"And that just makes me feel bad for being a gods damned liar. I'm sorry, Skielstregar." Eztli huffs again, spinning in her seat to avoid looking at him.

Pat pat. Thonk thonk. Thick skulled boi.

"Thisss one iss glad they can be ssseen asss-"

Blink. Back of Eztli? "... sssuch?" he trills upwards in a confused question. He glances to the side, picks up his drink and drains that one in a one-two-three gulp. "... thisss one... forgivesss you?" he offers, still confused.

Eztli huffs, and sniffs a couple times, remaining avoiding looking at the rather interesting floor. Even as she pulled several coins out of her robes to clatter onto the table, enough for everything.

"And now you're forgiving me without even knowing what you're forgiving me for, that's being even nicer."

She hops off of the stool, where thankfully her height made it easy to keep avoiding his gaze. "You've been in Charn and back, and that's a horrible place, I know that. So even pretending to have been there makes me feel sick to my stomach. I'm sorry."

With that the small makari runs off for the door, stumbling a few times as her tail got caught swaying under one of her feet, until she was out.

She didnt turn back, but her hand peeked out from the doorway, waving a few times before being pulled away. The TarRaCe, early afternoon.