View source for Rain on your Parade

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== Log Info ==
*Title: Rain on your Parade
*Emitter: Aelwyn
*Characters: Aelwyn, Skielstregar, Irshya
*Place: Colosseum District
*Time: August 23rd, 2022
*Summary: On a hot day in the Colosseum, Aelwyn is busy reading through a scroll as he's mildly on fire (he's fine), and a totally not random shower douses him out. Skielstregar makes some observations, briefly turning into an ice statue from Irshya's blessing of water before Aelwyn heads over to the TarRaCe for their shift. The remaining two mill about before lazily making their way back to check on the new hire.
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== ==

It was hot. Annoyingly hot. Ignobly hot. The regular kind of hot that seemed to suffocate the streets of the city as of late. A little bit of fire on a sith-makar was then fairly easy to dismiss at a quick glance.

"... aamuuk.. no-ilut... onshh?" A ruddy-scaled sith-makar was parsing some kind of scroll of some sort. Seated on a stone pedestal, plenty of unlit torches and various other miscellania littered the street.

More notably, two of them were tied together with a card and swung over his back. And they were lit on fire, the oily rag rumbling its flames against the naked scales.

"This gobbo..." Aelwyn rumbles by himself with an annoying whisk of his tail, stretching his mane of quills.

There's an odd sight. Mostly seen with their veritable armory of weapons and sharp pointy sticks, instead they are in nothing more than a brown shirt and pants, a strap over the shoulder holding their signature halberd, it gleaming a shiny silver. The lack of instruments of war did nothing to shrink his frame.

It's hot. Skielstregar huffs, trundling on by as he slows to look at a stall with various banners on display. Then, the crackle of fire? Who's got a fire going in this gods forsaken hea-

Turn. Oh. A little rumble of a chuckle leaves him as he approaches the smaller makari. "Peassse on your nessst," he greets, tilting his head at the display. "... you are aware you are on fire, yesss?" he points out in jest.

There's a sudden flash of light nearby, followed by a crack of thunder. Then a sudden downpour that seems to only target Aelwyn. It lasts for several long moments, and stops as suddenly as it started. From a nearby alleyway, Irshya appears, and heads towards Skiel and Aelwyn.

"Hello!", she says, boisterously.

Aelwyn's broken out of his focused mumbling state by the appearance of a very undressed sith-makari. "Silver, did he get robbed?" The Dragoon asks with near worry, before he rolls his shoulders. "Hmmh, on fire-?" And just as quickly as he begins to get words out, the sudden shoot of rain hits him and he snarls loudly, stumbling off his pedestal.

"-hhhf! Hhhf." The draconian breathes, as he gets back on his feet and readjusts himself; torches now wet and merely steaming, he glances around. "Nnnh, Sharkie." He rumbles with a bow of his head.

The now wet scroll is pushed into his now wet satchel, before he picks up the tied torches and drops them to the ground in front of him. "And why is this only one who is now wet?" The sith-makari asks with a grunt, rolling his shoulders. Shoulders that were still steaming from the evaporating moisture.

"Hmm? No, thisss one doesss not do well with heat, and it isss too hot-" Skielstregar flinches as rain comes out of seemingly nowhere, the spray freezing as it touches his scales. He looks about, a hand twitching towards his back, but it abates as he spies a familiar, tiny figure. "Peassse, Iryssssha," he waves from the hip, a glance going back to Aelwyn.

His brows pinch as he settles on the wet scroll and bag. "... awh..." A look to Irshya. "Wasss that necesssary?" he asks, brushing off the flecks of ice on his arms.

Irshya gives her most innocent and beatific smile to Aelwyn. "Peace on your nest!", she says to the two Sith, again quite boisterously. "This city is strange sometimes, with magics just... happening."

She squints at Skielstregar a moment. "Irshya doesn't do well in the heat either. Especially burning cities."

Aelwyn takes a more wide-legged stance and then he straightens - his arms flick out on either side of him, as he takes in a deep breath... before he shakes his body off like a dog, whipping the moisture around him along his quills. Which is mainly at Skielstregar, considering he is standing right there. With a final rumbling hiss, he picks up his glaive and leans it against him.

"And she just happened to arrive on the same step." The Dragoon clicks his tongue. "This one supposes fire does attract all kinds of attention." He rumbles in amusement.

Turning his head over towards Skielstregar though, the draconian eyes the suspiciously unsuspicious halberd for a moment, before he turns his head some more. "... then why carry more than what he carries all the time?"

Skielstregar just stares at Irshya for a few beats before chuffing a cloud of cold air and shaking his head. Not pushing it, but not buying either. "The heat getssss to thisss one'sss head, and they are well glad it isss not burnin-"

Again, once more, he's stymied. Him getting sprayed, even more ice forming, icicles dangling from his arms and frost across his legs. "Thanksss," he says dryly, reaching under to snap a small icicle off and throw it at Aelwyn.

The question makes his head tilt to the side, silver scales shifting by in his reflection in the shiny halberd. "Be... caussse there are sssituationsss that require different toolsss?" he offers. "It doesssn't weigh much to thisss one," says the mountain of muscle.

Irshya giggles at Aelwyn, and once he is done shaking the water off, she runs the last few steps between them to hug at his waist.

"Why were you on fire?", she wonders of the ruddy-scaled Sith. She eyes the flung icicle, and snorts, giggling. "Irshya understands now! But doesn't it help with the heat? Irshya could just wet you." The Gobbo pulls her little holy symbol up, as it begins to glow.

Aelwyn's scales deflect the icicle! Or rather, the sith-makar lets out a sharp hiss and throws an amused rumble over his shoulder. "Hmmh, this one suspects there are not many problems one cannot solve as he is... at least the ones that tend to be worth solving." The draconian responds with a little coil of his tail and a flick of tongue.

Irshya grabbing him by his waist doesn't even make him pause, but he does lower his head down to look at the smaller blue gobbo. "Would it not be easier to invite him to the bathhouse than to flood the street?"

Skielstregar lifts his shoulders. "Thisss one sssolvesss few problemsss, but they are good at what they can sssolve," he chuckles before addressing Irshya. "Aelwyn dancesss with fire. It doesss not bother him. Redssscales like heat."

The offer makes him blink, then- "Dragonfather'sss scalesss, yesss please."

He steps back and opens his arms up to the heavens.

"Irshya wouldn't flood the street. She would hardly create enough water.", she says, peering up at Aelwyn. "How've you been?"

The pool shark looks to Skiel then, blinking. "Irshya was jesting... but okay!" Releasing the ruddy-scaled Sith, the Gobby moves to stand beside the silver, pausing to admire her reflection. She holds up her holy symbol, whispering a prayer... an a moment later, a mini downpour drenches her and Skielstregar.

"Wet." Aelwyn responds with a rough rumble back at Irshya - before she is off again. The ruddy scaled draconian is soon left hurriedly picking up his torches from the ground, hanging them off his neck two at a time.

The water hits Skiel full force, drenching him. It sticks his shirt against him, showing a rough scar on his chest in through the cloth. Slowly, the there's the sound of ice straining and cracking. The downpour solidifying against him. And soon enough, there's a faint layer of ice all over him, and he's frozen like a statue.

"This isss nice," he rumbles happily, the vibrations knocking some icicles off of him as his tail twitches, cracking some ice free off his frame.

Irshya has disconnected.

Irshya has connected.

The Goblin makes a few happy sounds and squeaks as she is completely soaked, though she doesn't ice up like the silver-scale. She eyes Skiel then, giggling, and places her hand on an icy patch of silver, slowly melting it.

"It is refreshing, and Irshya is happy to accommodate you. You only need ask, Skiel."

Irshya giggles then, smiling broadly. "How are things between you and your lady Sith?"

Aelwyn was aware enough to stand clear from the pair - but it still surprised how very well and frozen the larger sith-makar just froze up. His things in tow, he slowly walks closer over the silvery fellow and places his hand on Skielstregar's snout. "Fire and ice, guess it never was meant to be, Silver." He croons in a low, rumbling hiss - words spoken as if to a lover written for another play.

Stepping back, he sways his tail in amusement. His hand though - he was quite vigorously shaking now. "Hmmh, maybe the bathhouse would have been a bad idea," He says to Irshya, before leaning down towards her. "This one will return to TarRaCe. She has his uniform ready, yes?" He asks, before he bows his head at Skielstregar. "Nest... nest in freeze, Skielstrgar."

The patch of silver is numbingly cold to the touch.

Skielstregar rumbles happily, rolling his shoulders and arms to slough off of the rest of the ice. "Thisss one will keep it in mind. Thank you."

The question makes his large tail sway from side to side. "Well. Very well. Vaera and thisss one are very clossse and we are better for having accepted each other," Skiel warmly answers, dead gaze lost a bit in the distance before coming back to the here and now. 

By a snout boop. He flinches visibly, before pulling away and rubbing his snout. "Oh husssh," he snorts back.

He looks between the two. "Uniform?"

Irshya blinks at Aelwyn and nods enthusiastically. "Yes, it has been cleaned and pressed, all ready for you to show off your skills.", she says cheerfully. She glances at Skiel and nods. "Yes, he has a snazzy uniform for working at the Tarrace in, like Irshya and her other staff."

Aelwyn's shoulders roll at the question of uniform, "Hmmh, she says this one's scales do not look good enough for TarRaCe." The Dragoon rumbles and touches Irshya's back with his tail. "Rest in nests," The draconian bows his head after and picks up his glaive and belongings, before walking off towards the establishment in question.

Skielstregar chuffs. "Thiss wass not aware they were working for the TarRaCe. He fitsss in well there, thisss one thinks."

He raises a hand to call after Aelwyn as he goes. "Clothesss can make the ssscalesss look even better!" he says before laughing quietly to himself. "Peasse on your nessst!"

A little sigh leaves him, and he puts his hands on his hips, looking down and looming over the little gobbo. The halberd on his back shining a silver. "Now what do we do with you?" he ponders. "Thisss one cannot pitch you thisss far into the bathhouse, sssadly."

The Gobbo snorts at Aelwyn, "Irshya simply thinks that one shouldn't show so much scale in a public house. City officials might get the wrong idea." Irshya sighs and shakes her head, glancing up at Skiel. She blinks, putting on her best, innocent, look. "Well, once could carry Irshya, and throw her from a shorter distance. Theoretically."

"Yess, softssskin lawss conflict with scaled kin'sss ways," Skiel nods knowingly. "Thankfully thisss one prefersss covering up."

He tilts his head to the side, snorts once, then bends down to scoop the whole shark gobbo up with a singular hand. "Aaaand... up!"

He plops her on his shoulder. Perfect seating size for a gobbo. A bit cold though. "Good?"

She squeaks and laughs, getting comfortable in her new seat. "Irshya would appreciate visiting Am'shere. She is uhm not adverse to nudity... just sensitive to the customs here in Alexandria. She spent most of her life swimming around completely bare, like everything else under the water."

Irshya pats his shoulder fondly, "Irshya is good!"

Skiel rumbles. "Am'sssshere needs preperation for softskinsss. It'sss alssso really hot," he advises. "But, it hass beauty in itsss own way. Thisss one recallss your conversssationsss of sssuch. Thisss one just doesss not prefer it isss all."

The halberd stays shiny silver, but drips black ichor only once.

"Anywho-" A hand comes up to scooch Irshya closer so she's better seated. "Feel free to hold onto thisss one'sss neck or horn," he rumbles. "We need to ssssee what that uniform looks like on Aelwyn."

With that, he sets off at a relaxed, languid, lazy pace in the vague direction of the TarRaCe. No need to rush.

 -End Scene-

[[Category:Logs]]