Dancin' Dragoon

Log Info

• Title: Dancin' Dragoon

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Aelwyn, Ravenstongue, Skielstregar

• Place: Theatre District

• Summary: Ravenstongue is going for a morning walk with Pothy in the Theatre District when she meets Aelwyn, who recognizes her (after some dialog) as the woman that the Guard is looking for regarding the recent incident in the Ox-Strength Tavern. Ravenstongue divulges the real story, which seems to amuse Aelwyn greatly. Skielstregar comes across the two and discusses his sparring with Aelwyn before Aelwyn departs to finish his odd job of the day.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Dramatis Personae =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-  
Aelwyn            5'3"     150 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      Runt of a Dragoon.                                                         
Ravenstongue      5'0"     99 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair.                       
Skielstregar      7'2"     330 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      A brilliantly silver scale with fangs and empty eyes.                       
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Theatre District, morning.

It's another rainy day in Alexandria, which brings a brief respite from the insufferable heat of summer and provides a gentle drizzle and slight wind with it. However, it also brings about a clash between the colorful ribbons and worn-in streets of the Theatre District and the gray sky above.

And even at the early morning hour, there are musicians plying their trade, although it's rather gentle music that doesn't overtly offend the ears nor does it set off anyone nursing a hangover from being a little too merry in the the District the night before after attending a show at one of the theatres. Some artists are setting up their easels for the day to offer paintings, caricatures, and sketches to passersby.

And then there's a half-elf woman who doesn't appear to be in any of these categories. In fact, she might come off as a little suspicious with her hood and cloak drawn about her, although maybe it's tempered a bit by the fact that it is raining, albeit only lightly. Striking violet eyes peer about, as though looking for someone--

And then a white raven with blue eyes hops down from her shoulder, holding a dainty, dew-laden daisy in his beak. The half-elf woman smiles as she takes the flower from him. "Aww, Pothy, I thought you were looking for breakfast, not for flowers."

The raven wags his tail up and down in a manner like a happy dog. "Snacks!" he croaks, mimicking his mistress's voice.

"Okay, okay. I think there's a bakery in this district--they might already be open for breakfast," the woman replies, giving into the raven's demands. She begins to walk in the direction of that bakery.

Speaking of colorful ribbons, there's one walking along the streets. Several in fact. Small little red ribbons, tied around a tall glaive, miserably clinging onto the wood, and around a pair of upright horns. The ruddy red sith-makar slowly walking along the street did stood out in the grey rain; his autumn colors particularly alive against the more muted background. His loincloth stuck onto his muscular thighs, as his hips rolled with a relaxed gait, his glaive bobbing against his shoulder.

The draconian had a satchel strapped onto him. Which happened to smell very sweet - and freshly baked. Even more so, the Dragoon was chewing on a what seemed to be freshly baked piece of bread, the little bit of food slightly steaming in his fingers. In truth, he wasn't really meant to eat that - then again, nobody told him otherwise. All in a good day's work of ferrying the bakery's deliveries.

The white raven spots the bread. His blue eyes lock onto the carb-loaded treat, and he takes flight, landing on the sith-makar's shoulder. Thankfully, raven talons are not sharp--not that the scale-laden and beribboned one necessarily had to fear that.

"Snacks?" he asks. It's a question this time.

"Pothy!" the half-elf cries out, jogging behind him. She stops a few feet shy of the sith-makar, pouting underneath the hood--violet eyes filled with uncertainty as she looks at both him and the white raven. "Sorry, sir," she says. "My familiar's asking if you can share your bread. Pothy, get back here."

Pothy the white raven croaks grumpily at the half-elf. "Friend," he says, mimicking her voice. Apparently he's decided the sith is his new friend.

The sith-makar was definitely surprised when he gets assaulted by a raven - and a white raven of all things. Surely that was an ill omen somewhere. Putting his piece of meal between his sharp teeth, he attempts to lightly push at the raven. "Hrhnh?" The draconian lets out, when the half-elf suddenly jogs up to him. Orange slit pupils stare at her, then at the raven, then at her.

Food removed from his teeth, he turns towards Pothy. "The winged one needs to barter more than friendship to share this treat." Aelwyn states, then turns towards the hooded elf with a toothy grin. "Not a sir; a Dragoon. Is the familiar hungry?"

The half-elf makes a face at the Dragoon's inquiry. "He's always hungry," she says. "Come here, Pothy. Don't bother him."

Pothy weighs his options. He looks between the Dragoon and his mistress. Back at the Dragoon, back at his mistress. The white raven croaks again and he takes flight back to the half-elf, landing on her shoulder. He nuzzles into her hood and pulls it off, revealing the rest of the pale face and the mop of wavy black hair that was obscured from view. Her violet eyes are full of bemusement, however, at having her hood dropped. "Pothy, c'mon. I don't want to get recognized by anyone," she murmurs.

She looks at the Dragoon and smiles apologetically, pulling her hood back up. "That being said, a lot of the people that Pothy accosts end up being my friends in some way or another. You can call me Cor'lana. Lana for short."

Aelwyn did not recognize her, but he tears a good chunk out of his bread as he eyes her. "If she did not want to be recognized, perhaps she should not introduce herself so readily." The draconian grins. Or exposes his teeth in a visage of sharpness. "Aelwyn, a Dragoon." He introduces himself, and then bows his head gracefully. "Peace on her..." Eyes dart up towards Pothy. A moment later, he takes another bite of his bread, leaving the rest of his sentence hanging in the air, undecided. "Hmm."

"Is there a reason she is skulking in this district, hidden under a hood?" The sith-makar asks curiously, before he eyes up the last of his bread. Then Pothy. Moment later, he flicks the food at the white raven.

"Well, I'm a poet," Cor'lana responds. "I still like coming here for walks. It's inspiring, and sometimes I get to hear other people's poetry, too. As for why I'm hiding my face... Mmm, well, let's just say I persuaded a man to hand me something that could be harmful to a lot of people if it ends up in the wrong person's hands. He's apparently telling people it was a good luck charm when it isn't, and I have reason to believe he's an agent of... let's be vague for safety's sake and call it 'evil'. Here isn't the place to discuss the particulars. I'm not a criminal. Just someone whose character is being assassinated by rumors." Here, her violet eyes flash with irritation.

Pothy, meanwhile, gorges himself on the bread that's offered to him. It sort of slides down his gullet in a way that's simultaneously both comedic and kind of gross, to be honest. "Thank you," he says politely, mimicking his mistress's voice again.

"You learned manners while you were gone, too," Cor'lana remarks to Pothy with surprise. Apparently the bird was absent for a while.

Aelwyn's eyes widen as the half-elf goes on her explanation (or tirade). "So she was the little rogue in the Ox-tavern?" He asks with a rumble. The (slightly) taller sith-makar takes a few steps closer towards her, almost as if he were trying to intimidate her... or even apprehend.

Yet, then he simply lets his sharp teeth be exposed again. "Rogue should not speak of it so openly. Yet that does make for an interesting story." He rumbles with a deep chuckle. "She is not used to playing such counterfeit games, is she?"

"Rogue's a new one," Cor'lana responds with a grimace. "Sorceress is the correct term." Yet, she doesn't look intimidated by him stepping forward, violet eyes staring up at him like he's just another person. "The reason why I'm talking about it is because the truth is what sets people free. I am not a 'rogue'. I'm just trying to keep innocent people who didn't ask to be hurt from getting hurt, and that's what would happen if that guy kept what he had."

She does color a little at his last inquiry. "No, I'm not," she says. "I'm not used to this whole... This everything, really. I came to Alexandria a year ago and I've changed since then, so I guess this is just another change."

Aelwyn tilts his head, smacking his tongue as he tastes the word 'Sorceress'. "The truth could also set Raven in trouble." The draconian points out, though he's still 'smiling' as he leans against his polearm. Nope, sorceress didn't quite cut it. "If she wants her hand to stay hidden, she should not mention the hand, but steal the eyes elsewhere. Only mention the hand if their eyes are on the hand to sow doubt in their minds, since they always believe they are smarter than they are."

A moment later, the Dragoon tilts his head. "Then she should find a fence, but perhaps simple coin will not do." The draconian rumbles, a more of an amused sound than anything else.

Cor'lana observes the Dragoon and his movements as he speaks. "It's already been handed off to the right people for safekeeping," she says, almost cool in tone. "No 'fence' needed. There are holy people in this city who know the truth, and there are people in law who will be informed of the truth by the holy people, and all of them are well-regarded. So I don't fear the repercussions and I don't fear people's judgment--only the inconvenience that I could get from being recognized. Hence the hood." It's a strange thing to see such a short girl by half-sil standards be so confident, perhaps moreso to not be intimidated--or the fact she describes being recognized as an individual of interest to the guard as a mere inconvenience.

"Snacks," Pothy says from atop his scaly perch. Cor'lana clicks her tongue and the raven flies over to her, landing on her shoulder. She draws a hand from a pocket and holds out some dried fruit to him.

Aelwyn turns his head towards Pothy, and watches him fly over. Reaching into his satchel back, he gets a chewing stick of his own. This one smelled a lot less palatable than the fresh bread he was chewing on before. Pepper and something sweeter underneath. The dried meat looked absolutely dreadful to bite on.

Taking another step towards her, he leans over towards her. "It was a tease, Raven." The Dragoon says, taking a chunk out of his stick. "She is standing tall for someone being on the run." All that sweet smelling bread in the satchel was now close to the white raven. "With holy people involved, one can wonder what is this evil in the Ox that she is trying to banish. Most seem to be the mundane sort." Sharp teeth glint in the dark. The Dragoon was in positively elated mood today.

Cor'lana colors again as it's revealed it's a tease. She sighs, too, but she's smiling now--an expression that lights up her face. "It's just... I hid myself away for a long time when I was younger, in a way," she says. "So I don't like doing it if I don't have to. Especially when I'm right."

There's a sadness, somehow, in Pothy's eyes when she mentions the hiding of her youth. It twinkles in his blue eyes. But, then he's handed more dried fruit and he feasts happily, tail going up and down again.

The weariness in Pothy's eyes seem to transfer to Cor'lana's eyes. "It's... A lot. A lot more than I'd ever have to bear. But that describes anyone with sorcerous 'talent', I guess. I'm just thankful I have friends and allies to lean on."

Aelwyn keeps chewing up on his chewstick, his own tail idly mimicking Pothy's. Tail movements were contagious. Slowly, he reaches for the half-elf's hood and with his fingers, attempts to hoist it up on her head. "There is more to a journey than worrying about hiding." The draconian says, "A performer hides behind their performance as well, and they will be naked." Another bite of his chewing stick.

"Raven should take example of her white friend and enjoy a snack." The Dragoon rumbles and taps at the backside of the sorceress' ankles with his tail.

Cor'lana blinks a couple of times with the ankle tapping. But there's a smile that comes to her face even as the hood is lifted. "I don't need to eat," she says. "There's a long story, there, too. But I don't actually need to eat. One of a few gifts I've been given."

She pats Pothy on the head. "I get your metaphor, though," she says. "Performing my poetry does often feel both like wearing a mask and being laid bare at the same time. Not that I do it often. I need to get better at reciting it first, and performing it in front of the pixies in my garden is a bit embarrassing."

Aelwyn tilts his head. "... no wonder she seems so sad." The draconian points out, and takes another chunk out of his stick, leaving him just a little bit to chew on. Which he audibly does, tearing the tendons apart. It probably was just leftover tendons, dried up and attempted to make edible.

The Dragoon gives a grin towards her. "Perhaps she should try doing it exposed. This one has noticed it made dancing easier after." Aelwyn teases her right back, before trying to offer the end of the stick to Pothy. Beyond the pepper and dried plum, there wasn't a whole lot going for it, though.

Skielstregar has arrived.

Cor'lana makes another face from the teasing. "No, absolutely not," she says. "I'm not that fearless. My fiance could be persuaded for the right reason, perhaps."

She smirks a little. "He's braver than I am in a lot of regards. And I'm definitely not sad around him."

Pothy, however, doesn't care that the stick has not much to offer. It's still food. So he takes it from Aelwyn and horfs it down, too, like a snake might. It's another impressive, if mildly gross, display.

It's raining. Sweet relief. Open skies instead of cloistered tunnels and rocks.

A towering, shiny figure ambles down the street, bereft of armor and weapons save for their ever-present eerie halberd. The rain makes his tunic stick against his scales, but they're paying it no mind as they're enjoying a stroll in the waters.

He pauses, hearing some familiar voices as he looms over the crowd to spy- "Ah."

Thud. Thud. Thud on the approach. "Peace on your nessst!" he greets warmly, smiling with those wicked fangs. "Sssshaman Ravensss, Dancer Aelwyn, Bird Pothy. It'ssss raining!"

He eyes the horfing before nodding in approval.

Aelwyn is suitably impressed by Pothy. "This one is ravenous." All the puns intended. Hand sliding back down onto his hip, he tilts his head towards Cor'lana with his teeth on display. "Fear is a journey taken one step at a time. Then the stage is hers."

The Dragoon begins to heft his satchel and check up on his belongings, before Skielstregar suddenly makes his entrance. "Peace on his nest, Silver." Aelwyn nods his head. "He seems to have caught on my leave." He displays his sharp teeth at the far, far taller sith-makar. Hands move to hold up his sack of bread he was supposed to deliver and not get sogged up by rain. "Yet the silver dancing in the rain is an attractive display."

"Skielstregar, peace on your nest," Cor'lana greets him with a smile and a wave. She seems absolutely delighted to see him. "It is raining. I quite like it. You know the Dragoon Aelwyn?"

Pothy finishes the stick that has been offered to him, his tail wagging again as he looks at Skielstregar. But he's not immediately braying for snacks, or even trying to take flight from his mistress's shoulders so he can peck at those shiny silver scales on Skielstregar's form. He remains there on the hooded half-elf's shoulder.

Skielstregar blinks at Aelwyn, the rain coming to a freeze on his cheeks before he reaches up to brush the icicles away. "... ah, erm, thank you. Um, thisss one ssshouldn't dance. Thingsss might break." He rubs his neck, looking down to the ground briefly.

His dead gaze rises. "Yesss, thisss one knows the Dragoon. We dance sssometimesss."

Pause. Blink.

"... in the Colosseum."

Pause. "With spears."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. "... you know what thisss one meansss." More icicles on his face.

Aelwyn leans closer towards the half-elf. "Silver has a particularly vigorous style." He rumbles, unable to do nothing but grin up at the larger sith-makar. "_Very_ vigorous." Yet he nods his head towards the both of them, bowing his head towards Cor'lana. "Peace, Raven. Hide well." Pothy gets a longer glance, then he leans in closer. "Speak quietly, and snacks will be theirs."

Starting to walk along the street, the Dragoon moves to briefly pat the larger sith-makar's side. "Should dance again, Silver. The bruises from the last time has faded; but hunger for more not." The smaller draconian rumbles, glancing over Cor'lana, before he bows his head and starts to disappear into the bustle of the awakening Theater District.

Cor'lana waves to Aelwyn as he departs. "Peace on your nest, Aelwyn," she intones, smiling as he leaves.

Then she turns to look at Skielstregar. And she just smiles for a moment. "So... You dance with him? That's nice. Telamon and I should probably get dancing lessons before the wedding. I sort of have two left feet when it comes to that."

Pothy sighs, or makes a noise like it, anyway. He just focuses on another handful of dried fruit that's offered to him.

Apparently, Cor'lana's missed all of the subtext. Or maybe she did, because she asks, "How are you and Vaera doing?"

Skielstregar opens his mouth to say more, but it shuts with a >clack< as Aelwyn elaborates. Miniature stalagmites of ice form off his cheeks and jaw like a frigid beard. "... peace on your nessst, Purple," he murmbles out as Aelwyn departs.

A beat. Then he rubs vigorously at his face to shed all the ice. "T-To be perfectly c-clear thisss one isss talking about sssparring, n-not...!" he hastily explains to Cor'lana before taking a breath to calm himself. "Thisss one isss not good at dancing, they would break many thingsss, like stone and tablesss."

He looks around to check his frame and space before squatting down to sit on his knees. Now eye level with the half-sil so they didn't have to strain their necks. The question makes him smile as he rifles around in his pocket. "We are doing well. Thisss one enjoysss the peace with her greatly."

He offers a (soggy) piece of jerky to the sighing bird.

Aelwyn has left.

"Ohhh. Okay. Sparring. That must be fun. Telamon and I have done that before." Cor'lana smiles. Maybe she got it. Maybe she still thinks it's the subtext. Softskins are weird and this one is weirder.

Pothy isn't concerned with any of this nonsense. He is, however, concerned with that jerky in front of him. It may be soggy... but it is still a snack. He takes it gently, and he swallows it down the gullet. "Thank you," he says politely.

Cor'lana snickers. "You're very polite now, Pothy. I like that."

Skielstregar stares at Cor'lana. "... thisss one isss referrring to fighting, not bedsheet tumblesss." Might as well be clear, as softskinsss liked to speak in circles way too often.

He looks to Pothy, him eyeing the now docile bird." ... you are... welcome?" he rumbles, a bit confused from his calm demeanor.

Attention shifts back to Cor'lana. A beat. Perk up. "Ah. Thisss one meant to asssk. How many giftsss should thisss one give for your ceremony of joining. Thisss one thought there wasss just Sssshaman Telemon, but they heard there wasss another...?"

Cor'lana facepalms and groans. "No, there's not another," she says. "It's just Telamon I want to marry. The truth behind what I'm sure you heard is that I persuaded a guy to give me a thing that's super dangerous in the wrong hands from a guy who is almost definitely a werewolf. And now he's all upset and apparently cried to the guard about it. Telamon knows someone in the Guard, and I have the testimony of Mourner Verna and several other people who can vouch for me, so he can shove it."

She huffs a little, folding her arms. "He's just lucky that I can't turn him into a toad. Yet. I'm getting there. He better watch out."

Skielstregar blinks, then frowns slightly, an arm going over the other as he rubs at his bicep. "Ah. Thissss one apologizesss for assuming. Perhapsss a werewolf toad would be easssier to deal with. Thisss one will keep an eye out for the upset perssson and ensure their annoyance ssstays within their ssskull." He still looms even though he's knelt down to eye level.

"Perhapsss after the expedition in the minessss you will have figured out how to do ssso sssoon," he hums, optimistic.

Cor'lana grins at Skielstregar. "Thank you, Skiel," she says affectionately. "Like I was telling Aelywn, I have lots of friends and allies, including you. I'm only wearing a hood and 'hiding' because I don't want to be bothered--although I think once I'm done with my walk, I'll head back home and write some more poetry."

Pothy coughs. Then Cor'lana blinks, like she's realized something. "Speaking of which, you should come by the house and visit again sometime. Telamon has a question he has to ask you, I think."

Skielstregar bows his head some, him giving a bashful smile as he rubs his head. "... thisss one is glad to be counted amongst friendssss."

Though, the potential question makes him perk up. "Erm... okay? Thisss one didn't break the door when they left, did they? The ssssoftskin buildings don't like thisss one too much," he worry warts.

"No!" Cor'lana says with a laugh. "No, no. Nothing like that. The house is okay. Telamon just has a question he wants to ask you. It's a good thing, I promise."

Pothy looks at Cor'lana and Skielstregar. It's not an expectant stare like usual. But he does ask: "Snacks?" A question, not a demand.

Cor'lana smiles. "Yes, you may have some snacks," she responds, handing him some dried fruit. He happily takes some. Such a polite bird.

A bird that has traditionally not been so polite. Suspicious.

Skiel lets out a sigh of relief, a plume of frozen air drifting from his maw. "Oh thank the Dragonfather. Thisss one would have to asssk Vaera to fix it and then they wouldn't be teasssed for it. Alright then, thisss one will... what isss the word... ssswing by? Yesss, thisss one will ssswing by."

He tilts his head to the bird, and he reaches out with a single digit, patting them atop the head. "It'ssss okay, thossse minesss were ssscary," he attempts to soothe in a rumble to the bird.

Pothy accepts the pats on the head, tail wagging up and down happily even still. Cor'lana smiles a little, although there's a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Wasn't the mines," she says. "He came back from... a little journey he volunteered to take. It was a lot for him. But he's the bravest bird I've ever known."

She leans in and kisses Pothy on his head when Skielstregar gives her an opening to do so. Pothy's feathers all puff up so proudly. Cor'lana looks back up at Skielstregar. "He's okay."

Skieltregar hums, him giving a small nod as he straightens his back. "Ah. Brave bird. Thisss one thinksss he should be gifted a tiny sssspear on a sssling to poke food for hisss bravery."

Nod nod. "Toothpick warrior." More nods. More approving of this budding yet stupid idea. Skiel slowly rises to his feet, increasing that height disparity. "Thisss one needsss to sssee about making sssure their weapon is okay after that trip. It didn't take well to having acid on it."

The halberd on his back drips black ichor. Constantly. It never stopped.

Cor'lana blinks a little as she just watches the ichor drips from Skielstregar's halberd. "Umm."

Pothy notices, too. Drip. Drip. Drip. "Sauce," he says, in Cor'lana's voice.

Cor'lana bites back a giggle. "I don't think that's sauce, Pothy," she says. "I have no clue what's going on there, Skiel, but I wish you luck with it."

"Sauce," Pothy says, quieter. He whistles something at Cor'lana. Surprisingly enough, Cor'lana appears to understand the whistling, nodding a little.

She turns back to Skielstregar and smiles. "I'm going to go home and cook Pothy a steak with gravy," she says. "I think he deserves it. Peace on your nest, Skielstregar."

Skielstregar follows their gaze, and he clears his throat. "Ah. It... doesss that. Thiss one hass ussed their magicsss through it so much they sssort of... stained it?" he questions, unsure. "Thisss one reccomendsss against eating it, Pothy. It isss necromantic energiessss."

He bows his head, and thuds his chest twice. "Peace on your nessst Sssshaman Ravenssstongue and Warrior Pothy," he teases. "Thisss one will be sssure to ssswing by."

He stretches, sighs happily at the sky and rain, and ambles off with his massive tail swaying behind him.

Warrior Pothy! Pothy's feathers all puff up again. The white raven not only looks ferocious, he is proud. Maybe he'll get a toothpick spear! Maybe Cor'lana can knight him and he'll be Sir Pothy the Brave among the fey!

That's not how this works, Pothy. That's not how any of this works.

Cor'lana leans in and kisses his fluffy head again. "Let's get going. Gotta make sure my little brother is happy, after all. Love you, Pothy."

Pothy whistles something back to her, and the two depart the Theatre District.