Taking Names

Log Info

• Title: Taking Names
• Emitter: Skielstregar
• Characters: Skielstregar, Vaera, Barclaiigh, Andelena, Mikilos, Lyme
• Place: Fernwood Pub
• Time: January 23rd, 2022
• Summary: On a busy evening in the Fernwood, there's a gathering of folk that cycle through conversations. Barclaiigh breaking a chair from trying to catch a weapon from toppling over, Mikilos observing it all. Andelena sharing her current goals of tracking someone while Vaera and Skielstregar provide their insights, as well as Lyme getting a meal and drink after getting patched up at the Defense. Folks go to their own devices as the night wears on, leaving the two makari two has a moment to themselves.

Fernwood Pub, Early Evening.

Like most days during the winter, as the sun dips down to rest for the day, the hearth of the pub was what most sought out for the chilly weather outside. Thankfully, the air outside is free of snow, and is just full of icy wind.

A mixed scale sith'makar slips past the door, tarnished bronze eating the ambient light while silver reflects it against the wall like a cascade of tiny mirrors. "Busy here tonight, Vaera!" he calls over his shoulder, lumbering (carefully) over towards an open table and taking a giantborn chair that can support his weight.

There is a voice that calls back from the door before it closes behind him. "Well, it is a cold day, and the food is good here. No surprise." It calls back before the door is moved open again. This time, an equally tall, though not nearly as broad red makari steps into the building, much more quickly shutting the door. She spends some time brushing the snow off of her coat, before following suit. A large stool is picked up and carried with her until she can meet him at the open table. "The cold does not bother you, but this one is happy to be back somewhere with a well fed fire."

Mikilos closes his book with a frown, and peers around vaguely, seated at the bar proper with a mug of cider long grown tepid. Putting the book away in his bag, the wizard turns to look over the room, raising a hand in greeting to the arriving Sith. "Good evening, peace unto your nests."

The redheaded Sunguard Skiel and Vaera have met before walks through the front door of the Fernwood, her white cloak billowing out from behind her with the wind as she walks through. Combined with the human woman's tall and powerful frame, it's certainly a statement--one that she seems to regard as perfectly ordinary.

She strides up to the bar, right in between the sith and the archmage. "Ale, please," she asks of the bartender, clapping down a few silver pieces onto the bar. "And whatever the big guy wants--Skielstregar, right?"

Barclaiigh occupies an unlucky stool at the bar, enjoying the nice things that come with the abundant pay of mercenary life. One big boot braces against the foot rail and a massive forearm lies flat on the countertop while he swishes his most recent sampling in his mouth. His clothes are clean and unusually-free of twigs, leaves, and smushed berries. His frizzy mane is wrangled in a series of plain cloth ties that make it look like an auburn broomhead resting between his shoulderblades.

The Khazadi wildman swallows down his drink and animatedly waves sausage fingers at the familiar sith-makar. Which makes his elbow knock over the spear leaning against the bar next to him. And then the spear starts to glow a soft green at the tip and describe runes along his shaft. "Dang and fudge..." he grumbles, bending over preciously and doing awkward grabby-handed reachings to pick the thing up. "Just... got you... to stop doing... that..."

The stool legs groan and begin to wobble.

Skielstregar glances over to the elf, him tilting his head to the side. "Evening, peassse on your nessst," he hums. "You are..., erm, thisss one hass not met you beo-"

He glances over after hearing his name. "Ah! Andelena, yesss, you are right! And Vaera here assss well. Thisss one will take that but bigger!" he grins.

Dead silver glances over to the bar, his brows raising. "Ah... Shaman.... Barclaiigh!" he snaps his fingers. "Peasse on your nesst- oh woah woah," he gets half out of his seat, reaching over to steady the Khazadi wildman.

"Why do you think thisss one gathersss so much firewood?" he belatedly chirps to Vaera.

"Because it's good exercise, and it looks impressive when you are carrying entire tree trunks?" Vaera chuffs. She finds the cleric, and bows her head to Andelena after she enters. "Good eve, Sunguard. This one thought you were going to share stories, not free drinks?" She asks with a raised brow, that turns to see Barclaigh struggling with his stool. "Should probably vacate that, it seems to be about to fall apart for some reason." She warns.

Mikilos stays still. Quick, but not quick enough (or strong of limb enough) to be of help in catching a tipping dwarf. The glow of the spear fetches professional intrest, always fun to look over someone elses work. "Archmage Mikilostravia Abrioudelanarchie Mithralla, Lord of Estranillia, Builder Arcane; though just 'Mikilos' is fine."

"I suppose I did," Andelena says to Vaera, shaking her head. Her mop of copper-blonde hair goes with the motion, reminding one of a lion's mane. "Honestly, I damn well forgot. I've been learning this city of yours and trying to find someone in the process. 'Heavy is the head that holds the burden of thought'--or so some smart man said. Smarter than me, at least. I'm not exactly one of Navos's folk."

She takes her flagon of ale and begins to knock it back. Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp.... Then down on the bar in one hatch. "That'll do the trick. How're you two doing?" she asks of Skiel and Vaera, but she looks around at the dwarf and the elf.

Particularly the elf. Andelena shakes her head. "Shit. Mikilos, your name is almost as bloody long as you are tall. What'd they feed you when you were young?"

"I've seen yer sho--" Bar is about to make friends with a fellow craftsman when the stool decides to fail; a leg snapping under the compact weight of the dwarf. The druid proves to be nimbler than he looks, however, and catches himself in a crouch with a hand braced against Skielstregar's reaching arm for added balance. The stool goes bouncing a short distance away. "Wh-oops," he grins sheepishly.

"Ah, well, no beer spilt, eh?" His caterpillar mustache dances left and right as he attempts to smother his embarrassment, shuffling through pockets to find a coin and cover the damages. Slap, it goes. "Ahem," adds the Khazad, kneeling to pick up his spear.

"Milikostravania Aroundabouchie Mithralla." He's seen the sign, then! "Folks call me Bar 'n this--" he lifts up a set of boar tusks on a thong-- "is Truffles." He snorts and grins at Andelena's comment, reaching for his flagon and having another sample that leaves his facial hair foamy with head.

Skiel blinks at the elf's name. "Mikilosss," he simplifies. "Thisss one iss Ssskielsstregar." There's a look to Vaera, he looks to the ground, and lightly smiles to himself as he's helping Barc.

"Thisss one isss well!" he replies, chipper. The silver scales on him seem to have won out on the tarnished bronze since last time they met.

Barc falls and catches himself on Skiel's arm, him helping steady the man. He pats him on the shoulder before getting his and Vaera's drinks, and returning to the table. He slides the redscale's over while drinking his own.

Mikilos grins, nodding to Andelena. "Honey glazed deer jerky. Grandpa swore by it, though I think tall parents plays a bigger role. Might I ask who you're looking for? Perhaps can be of assistance." Shifting focus to the dwarf, he nods again. "Bar and Truffles, a pleasure to make your aquaintence."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'm sure Skielstregar appreciates it." Vaera chuffs, offering a wave of her hand to the cleric. And then Barclaigh is breaking the stool. This makes her sigh. "Use the ones made for makari and giantborn, dwarf. The wood they use is sturdier, and thicker to support the weirght."

"I am curious who you are looking for, as well. I'm good at tracking down people when I need to."

The hunter squints when the drink is offered. "I didn't ask for a drink." She notes, giving the mug a sniff. "But you remembered what I like to drink. Thanks, I won't turn it down."

"I'm looking for a man." Andelena orders more ale with a subtle gesture to the barkeep and another plinking down of silver coins. "His name's Brydion Donnelly. Human man, a Daeusite like me. Shorter by two inches and also younger than me by two years. Always joked I was two steps ahead of him."

She leans onto the bar, her right hand beginning to fidget with her left hand, like she's rubbing her hand for something that should be there but isn't. "He told me he had family out here in Alexandria, and he went and disappeared into thin air, so I came here partly to see if I could do a magic trick and pull him out of a hat. The other half is just holy roller business." She finally gets that second flagon of ale.

"I'd give you a physical description, but he's smart. He wouldn't be walking around looking the way he did when he left. And he also knows I'm looking for him. If he's smart, he'll keep running until one of us collapses and gives up the ghost." Andelena knocks back a deep gulp of her ale.

"Just gotta sit on it proper'n not try to swing like some brachiatin' buffoon, yeh?" Bar smiles at Vaera and returns Skiel's pat with one of his own-- though his is in appreciation. He squints hard at the spear at mutters something in druid cant, stifling the glow before slinging the weapon. He goes to pick up the stool and falls into a cross-legged seat with his back against the bar and mumbles, holding the leg straight, licking his other thumb and dragging it across the cracked bit to seemingly mend the splintered bit of wood. "Good 's new," he grunts, setting to stool to one side and standing back up with grunting effort.

The dwarf stands back up into the conversation, glancing between the grim Andelena and the two idling sith-makar. His lips pucker, causing his mustache to flare up. "Gettin' a man out of a hat ain't the hard part. Squishin' him in is..." He grins wide, cocking his head. "Lookin' at ya, though, y'might be equal to th'task." A wink, and then he finds his drink again and drains the tankard down.

GAME: Barclaiigh casts Mending. Caster Level: 3 DC: 14

Skielstregar nods in appreciation towards Barc. "Vaera isss a very talented tracker," he hums. His dead gaze softens at Vaera's words, and he dips his head some. "Of course, Vaera."

He works on his ale, slow and unrushed. "Thankss for thisss," he belatedly says towards Andelena. "Sssoundsss like you're looking for blood. Or, at leasst payback."

He nods in agreement with Barc. "Dragonfather'sss Talonsss are none to be trifled with. Or, err, Sunguardsss."

Mikilos frowns mildly, looking to Andelena. "....would his name happen to be Lars?"

"Easier said than done when someone is a half dozen cups in. Besides, if it broke like that once, the stress from being sat on can get worsened without breaking too. And then it'll break when someone's not expecting it later." Vaera chuffs. "Better to avoid the problem in the first place."

"Bad blood, I'm assuming?" She asks of the cleric. "I understand, I hope you find them. If he disappeared into thin air, maybe it's best he remains evaporated."

Andelena sets her flagon down, wiping her mouth clean. "I'm not looking to squish him like a bug. I don't even want to particularly make him bleed. I just want some damn answers. He left behind an oath. More than one."

Her steel-grey gaze rests on her left hand again. "And I'm not going to mince words. I'm pretty *damn* good at getting answers. It's all I did back in the Myrrish Kingdoms, and I suspect I'm going to do more of the same here."

She looks at Mikilos and says, "No. His name's not Lars. However, I /am/ a traveling Sunguard pledged to the Sun Lord's justice, so tell me--is this Lars someone worth looking into, and what'd they do to get your attention?" Her tone is all business, even with the somewhat mercenary way she speaks for someone that is an ordained member of Daeus's clergy.

Barclaiigh notices the businesslike tone and looks of grim determination so he decides to clarify. "Barclaiigh, by the way. Bar." He grins and sucks the head out of his mustache before turning to flag down the 'keep for another. "Not Lar." He nods and then peels his lips back enough to tack on a "sss" to the end.

The wildman then turns and leans against the bar, taking a moment to stand, and laces his fingers over his guy. He looks up (way up) at Mikilos and awaits an answer with an eyebrow quirked.

Skiel shakes his head. "Thisss one doess not know a Larsss..."

A light sigh. "Ah. Thisss one ssseesss..." He watches Vaera a moment, a finger tracing the silver chain on his neck before taking another drink.

Mikilos sighs. "Lars is a bard who's been opperating in the area, charming people with his magics, then going on dangerous quests and letting them take the brunt of the damage. Not enough to be strictly illegal, but certainly sketchy. Also recruited beastial races to fight in the areana, lying as to what exactly is involved, suggesting exibition sparring, then promoting deadly bloodsports. He's managed to piss off quite a few adventurers, but has thus far maganed to stay out of the Watch's attention."

"Ah, well, in that case I hope you find who you're looking for. Sounds like he owes you some." Vaera shrugs. And Vaera listens to Mikilos, before she growls slightly. "Sounds like quite the piece of shit. Someone should charm him and make him walk into a den of owlbears, and see how they like that."

It seemed like a good time to take a long drink from her mug, and the red makari sighs. "My name is Vaera, I don't know if you got my name last time now that I think about it Bar."

"Guess I'll add another case onto looking for Bry. Why not," Andelena comments. "Listen, I'm a Sunguard. I'm not just going to sit on my ass and cry about bureaucracy and how my hands are tied like your average guard member does--doesn't matter what kingdom, they all act the same. If Lars has done something worthy of the Master of Law's judgment, then I'll send him to judgment."

Another drink from the flagon and it's empty again. More coins plink down onto the counter. "Good to meet you, Bar. I'm Andelena of Selentia--a credit to Selentia in that there's one woman in a nation of unimpressive men who think themselves to be hot shit that'd rather spit in their eyes, and a discredit to me in that I was born there. You take what you can get, I guess."

Barclaiigh takes up his new mug and lifts it in toast. "Two trips into the sewers I'd happily forget." The dwarf takes a moment to mouth Vaera's name, sure he's heard it before but making the effort to commit it to memory regardless. "Though I'd take th'first a dozen times 'gain before th'second; almost lost a finger'n the tip of m'nose still feels like it came from my uncle 'nstead of my pa." He crosses his eyes to look down at his nose and gives it a ginger squeeze.

"Blasted oozes..." mutters the Khazad, patting what remains of Truffles.

A nod and he mouths Andelena's name, too, squinting his little eyes at her. "Clan calls the Redridge home. Stoutbrew Holdings, Brewery, 'n Waystop. No shortage of spit there. 'n impressive men." He toasts and drinks again, his eyes going wide and he chokes and produces a mist as he sputters and lowers the mug. "Not t'say that I like impressive men." He offers, sucking at his mustache. "Er, well, nothin' against them. I guess. Sturdy arms and strong backs like any proper Khazad... workin' hard..." He's losing his argument here and he drags a calloused hand down his face. "Sorry yer fellas aren't up t'yer standards 'n go runnin' off, I mean." He does his best to recover.

Skiel raises a brow at Mikilos's description of the man's crimes. "... the man would be struck down if he tried sssomething like that on thisss one. They... do not like having their mind toyed with," he bristles quietly behind his cup, completely agreeing with Vaera. And by extension, the Sunguard.

His mood lifts a bit as Barc froths a bit, him quietly snickering.

Mikilos shrugs. "The Watch isn't looking for Lars. Or wasn't, last I'd heard. Charm magics are a grey area, and monsters are not protected under the law. But, if Lars even finds himself alone in dark alley... well, accidents happen."

Lyme steps in from outside, accompanied by a swirl of cold wind. He shuts the door quickly, looking faintly embarrassed, before looking around to see where the good seats are.

"Well, Alexandria is pretty nice, but it's not perfect like any place. At least the worst of it is outlawed, unlike other spots." Vaera snorts. "Well, grey area or not, if there's one thing that's unforgiveable, it's slavery. And pretty it up as much as you like, but charming someone into service is as good as slavery. If this was in Am'shere, they'd be filled with a half dozen arrows and left for the scavengers."

Vaera pauses to finish off her mug, and sets it down on the table with a chuff. "Sounds like you should find some impressive folk to buy a drink then, Barclaigh. Nothing wrong with that." The hunter notes.

Barclaiigh goes red at his cheeks and brow come Vaera's advice. His nose turns rosey, too, but the fresh flesh brought on by the healing magics seem less adept at conveying his flustered state. "I-- but-- no-- but-- I-- but-- agh." He buries his face in the tankard and has a long, long, looooong drink.

"Fellas'r fine but not fer me. That Miss Shilde is the prettiest thing I ever saw but as good as we'r findin' things out there in the wilds we're even better't not bein' found." He shrugs. "Anyroad, nothin'd happen. Fourth child ain't high on the priorities t'pair off but some day I'll get the call'n off I go..." He sighs.

"So it's Bar'n Porter'n Truffles just bein' friends and enjoyin' the pretty night sky through the trees." He toasts again.

Skielstregar bobs his head in agreement with Vaera. "Jussst asss bad asss that."

He waves goodbye to Andelena as she heads out, replaced by Lyme. His brows raise. "Ah, hello! Uh... thisss one never got your name. Are you fairing well? You got hit pretty hard during that fight with the beaver..."

He finishes his drink as well, the warm feeling resting nicely in his veins and belly. Vaera's words makes his eyes wander over to the hearth, watching the flames.

His attention comes back to Barc, and he chuckles warmly. "Thisss one did noticcce you we stumbling around her."

Lyme heads for the bar, elbows up to it, and orders ale and a bowl of stew. He glances over and waves towards Skiel. "Lyme." He nods. "I was well treated at the Soldier's Rest."

Mikilos frowns mildly to Bar. "Mildly jelous. Seems every week I have some aunt or cousin trying to match me up with some 'lovely girl from a wonderful family.' Would mind less if they weren't all dull socialites."

"Ah, yeah, that was a pretty nasty gnawing you got back there, Lyme." Vaera chuffs, looking to him a moment. "Field dressing works well enough, but it's no replacement for proper rest.

Then she looks to Barclaigh, and shakes her head. "Ah, apologies. Just figured it might be the case, considering it looks like you got yourself dressed and how you were speaking. Maybe you'll run into Shilde on some other jobs. Plenty of time to talk and get to know them in the hours of travel some of those take."

Lyme sips his ale, and nods. "Still, The job got done." He salutes Vaera with his mug. "And that's what I'm doing now. No training today at all."

"Just never seen someone like her," Bar grins at Skielstregar, his color smoothing out a bit. "Learned at a small Circle'n my partners-in-crime were'n yrchblood'n a gnome. 'n I saw plenty a misseses at the Waystop but most're m'cousins--" he makes a face-- "'n none were like me."

The next bit echoes as the Khazad talks into his mug before a drink, "Jus' thought we had somethin'n common's all."

He can't help but grin a bit at Mikilos' words and sucks noisily at his mustache before offering, "Stoutbrew joke: 'You can polish any dull conversation (or socialite I guess) with enough spirits.'" He waves his sausage fingers at Lyme and then tosses his tankard to indicate the two sith-makar. "Maybe those two're bad luck, eh? You'n I seemed to be evidence'a that." He grins and mouths 'just joking' at Skielstregar and Vaera, eyes squinting shut as he grins.

"Oh!" Bar exclaims, setting his drink down and hooking his thumbs into his freshly-cleaned vest. "Took someones suggestion'n had a go at the baths at the Tarrace. Almost nice as a hot springs in the Giver's gardens... 'n they made m'clothes smell like lavender, too!" He grins and shrugs, "Coulda done without th'naked gobber, I think..."

Skiel makes an 'ah'. "That isss good. Thiss one isss Sssskielstregar. Or Sssskiel, if that isss a mouthful. Pleasssure to meet you."

He chuckles once more at Barc. Or, rather, with him. But, he pauses. "A.. gnome? Tawyse?" he asks, curious.

He blinks. "The gobber ownsss the place," he points out, squinting at him some. "Oh, pleassse, we are not bad luck," he shoots back, grinning some and sticking out his blackened tongue.

"Oh, that's surprising. I thought most people got along well with Irshya." Vaera chuckles. "She is quite nice, really. Keeps the baths in excellent shape."

She raises a brow at the mention of Tawyse. "Maybe I am bad luck, it's possible. But still, you're both alright for the most part. Besides, that ooze was mostly burns, those'll heal up in time."

Lyme nods slowly. "Very solicitous, the goblin." He turns, and pays for his stew, getting down to it.

Barclaiigh gives Skiel a surprised look at that revelation, bursting into laughter with one hand resting on his belly. "Suppose she can wear whatever she likes. Or not wear, eh?" He sighs and uses the first knuckle of his thumb to wipe away a tear. "No, no," he waves off Vaera, "she seemed nice? All smiles'n the like, anyroad. Just not used to seein' that much of people afore I know their name's all."

"'n it was a bad joke. Y'both more'n carried yer weight. Great Laugh didn't see t'give me a silver tongue-- just a leaden gut." He grins again and pats his robes in indication.

"The other thorn'n my vine was Chukwuemeka Lostchild of the Shining Reaches'n the Vast. Never met yer... T'wyse. Just barely poked m'head into th'Grove here. Thought auntie'd be done with her business before we'd have to weather out the winter."

Skiel snickers. "Yesss. Sssshe isss just very curiousss about everything isss all."

The mixed scale glances to Vaera, and he shakes his head. "Thiss one doess not think you are bad luck," he affirms, a hint of a softness to his tone.

"Ah, thiss one seesss. Very well, thiss one wasss just curiousss," he shrugs to Barc.

"I suppose that would be strange, yes." Vaera chuckles. "This one finds it to be an added boon to visiting the tarrace, to be honest. If she is around, she is good company to talk to while bathing."

"The grove here, I know little about myself. But if Tawyse, and Un'eth are any indication of the people who frequent it, it is filled with good folk. Worth looking into, I'd say."

"I have never been out to the Vast, myself. I have heard it is a dangerous place, though."

"That is kind of you to say, Skielstregar. I hope you prove correct." Vaera chuffs, offering the other makari a smile for a moment.

Skielstregar bobs his head. "Yesss, she isss good conversssation. And thiss one hass never been to the Vassst either. Though, the Grove, thisss one hasss been there once. It wasss nice."

He glances to Vaera, and he looks down into his cup with a smile on his lips. Light happiness coming from him. "Thiss one thinkss you have..." he mumbles.

"Oh?" Vaera asks, a raised brow turned to Skielstregar, before she chuckles and reaches to pat him on the head. "Again, kind of you to say. But it is something hard to quantify, for certain."

Skiel smiles more at the pat, him glancing to the others as they go to their own devices. "It need not be quantified."

He scoots his chair in some, leaning forward on his elbows some. "Vaera, erm... how... are you?" he asks a bit timidly, looking into his cup.

"Well, if it need not, I shall put it out of my mind for now." Vaera chuffs, focusing her attention on Skielstregar as the others seemed more focused on their meals or other conversations. She does notice the curious demeanor, and cants her head. "I am well enough Skielstregar. And you? I hope you are finding yourself well today."

Skielstregar smiles warmly. "Thissss one isss well. Thank you for asking."

His eyes flick to the hearth, then back to the Vaera. Hesitantly, he reaches out, putting a too-long taloned hand atop hers. "Thisss one iss..."

His throat bobs. "... isss... glad that you are well from that venture into the woods."

Vaera looks to the hand, and chuffs, reaching to put her other hand on top of Skielstregar's. "You are worried about me? You had the worst of things, aside from Lyme. I was worried for you and them." She states, with just a hint of a chuckle. "But this one appreciated the concern. And you are concerned about taking me to the tavern with you, perhaps? You seemed quite excited to come here, after all."

Skielstregar shakes his head. "Ah, no no, thisss one is quite excited. To, erm, come here with you. Thisss, one, jusst, um, is glad to spend time with you."

His hand is trembling faintly in her grasp. ".. um... Vaera..." he mumbles.

"You can be excited and nervous at the same time." Vaera chuffs, holding the hand a bit more tightly. "Do not worry too much, as I am happy to spend the time with you, and the tavern is pleasant here, as well."

"It sounds like something is on your mind though, Skielstregar." She continues, focusing her gaze more. "I am here to listen, so speak your mind."

Skiel smiles warmly, him squeezing her hand. "Of course..."

Dead silver rests on the redscale. He glances down for a moment, then back to the redscale. Embarrassment seeps from him. "... t.. the fire looks... nice on your scales..." he says quietly. "Thisss one.. hass been thinking... about... us. And... um... thisss one has been... thinking hard. And... consssulting with sssome othersss. Um... you're...."

He sighs heavily. "Vaera, you've... you've helped thisss one so much in the past moonsss. And... thisss one... it took them a long time to... realize... thisss one.. um..."

He loses some steam.

Vaera blinks, and sniffs at the air once. She narrows her eyes for a moment after he speaks, and chuffs, before bumping her snout against his for a moment.

"Surely it is not that difficult to speak your feelings around me?" She asks after pulling away, raising another brow. "But this one is patient, and can wait till you wish to speak of it. It is quite cold out, so we should see about renting a room for the night, afterwards."

Skiel blinks, the embarrassment and happiness that was mingling in the air before becoming denser after the nudge. "N... no it iss... not difficult, it isss, jussst.... you know. Gah..."

He sighs, and nods. "We ssshould. Thiss one can get uss two rooms."

"I do not know. I have some ideas, but I would much rather hear them from yourself." Vaera chuffs, squeezing the hand that she was still holding. "But we do still need to eat. This one wonders though, why two rooms? Or is that too much, at the moment?"

Skiel flusteres for a moment. "Ah.. uh... yesss. It won't be a problem. We can do one. And get food brought to us. Maybe... thisss one can try again another time."

"Well, that sounds quite nice, Skielstregar." The red makari chuffs, letting go of Skielstregar's hand to lean back in her seat. "Another time, yes."

She stops to take the two mugs, pausing in the process to hug the much broader makari.

"You have complimented this one several times, but they think the shine of your scales looks even nicer." She states, before going on her way to make arrangements for the night, her tail swishing behind her.

Skiel blinks, him humming happily and hugging the redscale back. ".. thank you. Thisss one.... appreciates it."

He watches her go. Shakes his head, then lightly jogs after her.

-End Scene-