Of Vacations and Turncoats
Log Info
- Title: Of Vacations and Turncoats
- Emitter: Imane
- Place: Fernwood Pub
- Summary: A smattering of adventurers discuss moral shaking loyalty changes as well as locations across Ea to visit and settle down in.
Imane has a table over by the fire, and it would appear she's been here for a while, with trays and platters suggesting breakfast and lunch. She currently stands over by the bar chatting with the barkeep whole she balances on one foot and rubs the back of her calf with the other. Oddly, she's barefoot though it doesn't look like she's so due to poverty.
There's some commotion outside, something akin to a crowd of shouting people trying to talk over one another. A grey blob darts out of the center, and the crowd rushes after them, papers flying as they try to keep up in the fall gales. The sound dies down
Coming in from the side door was the same grey blob, a scarred mul'neissa woman in a green jacket. She huffs some hair out of her face, pulling a piece of paper stuck to her off and giving it a brief read. A scoff escapes her, and ends balled up and tossed into the hearth. Might as well lay low here for a while. She approaches the bar, giving Imane a side eye with a raised brow at the lack of shoes. Barefoot in a bar? Bold choice.
The Goblin descends from the floor above, hiding a sleepy yawn with the back of her hand. She rubs at tired eyes, and pauses to hide yet another yawn. Looking around at the common room, her expression brightens, and she takes the rest of the stairs two at a time, thumping the whole way. Simony hops up onto one of the stools near Imane, and excitedly asks the barkeep for two mugs of tea.
Simony offers a cheerful wave to Aryia, and a slightly more reserved, almost shy way to Imane. She taps her fingers on the bar in a little pattern, some song going around her head. "Run with us~", she says softly, humming the rest under her breath.
After the flash mob outside has thinned somewhat, another splotch of gray enters the Fernwood. Aya removes her cloak once within and shielded from wind, weather, and possible flying parchment. The mul in green gains her notice promptly, betwen the jacket, huff, and tossed crumpled paper. A brow arches in curiosity as she makes her way towards the bar, the barefoot woman noted next. "An interesting day?" the mild inquiry could be to either or all.
Imane looks around at all the sudden activity and smiles to everyone as they enter, "Must be lunch time??" she says or asks of no one in particular. She pads over tonher table, receives a glass and ewturns to the bar to order a refill of warm spiced elven wine.
Aryia's stern look softens a smidge at seeing one of her disciples. She gives a sharp nod towards Simony, coupled with a wave. But the expression cracks fully at seeing the other mul'neissa. "Sister," she motions, the gist understood even if the language wasn't. She approaches her, gives a brisk hug, and pulls away to drop into a stool. A glance to Imane. "No. Reporters. I can't leave the Colosseum anymore without them mobbing me." She rubs at her face, sighing. <Handspeech/Tongue>
Imane glances at the other two elves the to the Goblin, "Have a good sleep?" she asks cheerily.
Aya's lips curl into a smile at her sister, the hug, and even more so at the comment of reports. She returns the hug, Aryia possibly noting an aroma of burnt ...vegetables(?). "You are famous, sister," she prods, smile turning wry and uneven. "That is better than infamous."
She then answers Imane's (possibly rhetorical) question. "It is time for food, yes, and the Fernwood has good offerings."
The barkeep returns, setting both mugs of tea in front of the Goblin. Simony turns and offers one of the mugs to Aryia. She hides her smile by taking a sip from her mug. "Ah, the troubles of being well known.", she says softly. Setting, the mug down, her own pale hands begins to sign. "Congratulations on becoming the new coach. And I have a couple of new, neat tricks to show you, some time." Her grin broadens, becoming toothy. "My studies are progressing quickly." <Handspeech>
The Gobbo offers the other Mul'neissa a polite wave, before she looks to Imane. "No, I was up most of the night contemplating a uhm situation which I cannot make the right of. And just when it felt like I could drop off to sleep, there was this loud mob of people outside."
Imane nods at Simony, "Yeah, that happens. One of the nice things about living in the forest...no crowds." she smiles again and giggles a little, "Hmm? Oh, yes, the food is quite good here, isn't it?"
Aryia's nose curls at the burnt vegetable waft, an expression that pairs well with the look of mild annoyance at the situation. "At least infamy reminds them they'll get tossed into next week for bothering me," she motions with a tinge of a pout. "... were you cooking again?" She asks her sister abruptly.
A white brow raises at Simony, the coach's interest piqued. "Good. You'll show me next time. And thanks." Another look is given to Imane, one that obviously belies something clicks in her head about shoeless circumstances, but she motions towards Simony. "Situation?" she prods. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Aya's smirk dims, though doesn't fade completely. A vague, dismissive gesture is made with one hand as she admits with an exhale, "A brief attempt. Consider it further training. I shall master it eventually..." She is optimistic.
A glance is made to Imane at her comment that Aya follows with a nod. "That is one strong advantage of the forest. The hinderance is that one must cook her own food." There is a brief glance again to her sister and she considers another comment, but Simony's words pull her focus there, instead, where she echose Aryia's brow and query. "A situation?"
Imane nods, "Very true. Cooking or eating fruits and other plants are the options there..." she smiles and sips her wine.
Simony shrugs her shoulders at Imane. "Perhaps no crowds, but the last time I was taking a nap in the forest, I was woken up by someone wandering about. So it's not always as peaceful as it seems." Nodding to Aryia, the Gobbo grins. "I could show you now, if you liked? It won't do any damage as long as we behave ourselves, yes?" She bares a pale, skinny arm, and flexes. While the bicep is /there/, it's nothing to write home about. She is a Goblin after all. However, her holy symbol flashes a bright white light, and the whole arm begins to change, swelling up and bulging with muscle. In fact, her robes begin to fill out as the Gobbo bulks up.
"I uhm lifted parts of a damaged wall back into place. I wonder now if you'll notice my punches?" The toothy grin persists, though after a moment or two, her arm, and the rest of her, shrinks back to her original proportions. At the double question, she sighs lightly. "Something that challenged my thinking on the nature of good and evil. It is a little disturbing."
Simony sighs. "A bearded devil arrived at a Navos monastery in the mountains, and challenged a priest there. The priest deflected and challenged the devil. The devil began reading books from the library... and changed. He was content, then, to simply meditate, contemplate and read further. It is ... practically unheard of."
Imane sips her wine while watching the display, but a frown forms on her wine stained lips, "It's unheard of because it doesn't happen... unless there is a plan in play. I would be wary regardless of how reformed a devil may seem. A devil is always a devil, first and foremost. One of the traits they hold in high regard is deception."
Aryia silently snickers, elbowing her sister in the side. "That potato and egg hash you made that one time was pretty fucking good," she tries to encourage. But her attention falls primarily on Simony. The other brow joins the first from the little display, and a huff of air leaves her nose that can only be understood as a 'huh.'
She simply holds out an upright hand, palm out. A punching target.
After the little display, the mute sits and listens. Finally taking the offered tea, she gives a nod of appreciation and sips on it. Contemplative. A look towards Imane is added into the folds of her ponderance.
It's carefully set down on the bartop. "I knew a demon once. A succubus. Bound to a kind woman through some kind of pact. I don't know the details. The woman was determined, deep down, that the demon had a kind heart. The demon struggled, suffered in its inability to take in its nature. But I could tell. It was /working/. Small, little things. Trivialities that were taken for granted were treasured without them realizing it. This story doesn't have an end, I don't know what happened to the two of them."
She turns towards the group. "There is always doubt when dealing with beings such as those-" she glances to Aya. The two of them know everything that needs to be known about that. "-and swift extermination is one that I would render without second thought. But I posit this. What is better- to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?" <Handspeech/Tongues>
Aya gives the offered target a token bap. The casual and gentle halts promptly after that, her face hardening at Simony. "Do not trust it. Do not hesitate. Even when it speaks true, it lies. It-" She realizes her ire and volume are raising and she cuts herself off; relaxes the fists her hands have balled into.
After pausing to take a cycle of inhalation and exhalation, she states, more quietly, "You should make your own judgement." A final glance to Imane. "The forest seems more and more enticing by the moment."
Aelwyn has arrived.
"On the side of mortals, I can understand. Not only can we change, we do so, frequently. It was something that the fiend said he admired in us." Simony sighs, and leans her elbow on the bar, resting her chin in her hand. Her tea is sipped at lightly. "The conundrum I have is thus... There are instances of fallen angels. If angels can fall, then it seems to me, logically, demons could rise above their baser natures and aspire to greater things than brutality and chaos and evil. That is not the conundrum, but merely part of it."
The Gobbo nods to Aryia. "Indeed, it is a struggle to overcome one's evil nature, but, conversely, it is a struggle to remain a good person. There are temptations, right? Still... Mortals can struggle all their lives, and still fail. But, you don't become a demon for stealing bread, or mugging someone, or accidentally harming someone. Vardama can see these things, understand context, she is supposed to be a fair judge. So those residing in hell aren't there for a.. a pathetic reason, they're there on purpose for things they did, as punishment."
She rubs at her face and gulps down the rest of her tea, a pained expression following, for the tea is still hot. "The afterlife, in paradise, is supposed to be, well, calm, content, perhaps even happy... you're at peace. Yet, how does an angel fall? And if the hells are punishment, how is it fair to expect .. souls to change, after being thrust into the most horrible of places, where to survive... you have to commit more evil? How is that even remotely fair, or reasonable." She begins to look a little miserable, thought she nods to Aya and Imane, "That was my first reaction, however... It allowed itself to be disarmed. It remained in its cell, guarded by a single man. It told us that the undead that were attacking at night, were the work of his brothers. And after we slew one of the devils, and embarrassed the other one into fleeing back whence he came, he spoke with us. On my oath as priestess of Navos the Raven, he has changed. By simply reading some of the contemplative works, among others, in the library in the Redridge mountains."
Imane rubs the back of one calf with the top of the other foot as she leans against the bar. She glances at the other elves and sort of shrugs helplessly before offering, "Perhaps, little one... But that is their way..to put forth a lie so good that it becomes factual...But in the end, they are creatures of sin and evil and that's what they hunger for... Devils less so than demons... but still, their ways are alien to us mortals..." she shrugs, "But then, " she offers, "the forest doe not have seamstresses to make fine attire, and that is something that makes me sad." she smirks a little as if it's more of a joke than fact.
The door to the Pub opens, letting in a nice looking leather cloak - and a pair of upright horns. here was a face there somewhere. A fancy looking glaive juts against the floor as the newcomer steps further in - and then a flash of sharp teeth as Aelwyn greets the bartender. "Does one still carry the spicy wine?"
His scales were far more darkened than usual - the purples deep blues, near blacks, the oranges now walnut brown; like he had been roasted. And most of his red ribbons were gone, replaced but a few. And a green one. The worst part though - his midriff was covered in leather straps.
The Dragoon's eyes quickly picks up familiar and less familiar faces - pausing momentarily on Aya. He twists his lips, lets out a click. "Silverbraid, Canvas, others." He greets, then, with a bow of his head and another flash of his teeth. "Seducing demons?"
Aryia chuckles as her hand gets a thwap from her sister, but rising ire makes the same hand rest on Aya's shoulder. She gives a reassuring squeeze. "Perhaps the forest is a good place. Or an ocean front tropic," she attempts to joke.
She turns back to Simony, eyes half lidding as one leg crosses over the other. "If angels can fall, then fiends can be redeemed. It's an exception, not a rule. But one thing I have learned from my time is this: one's will is a powerful thing. It can break unbreakable bonds. Remain stalwart when no support remains. Stand up to gods and beat them at their own games."
She steeples her hands for a moment, looking down at the Navosian. "That fiend knows its place that it can never be trusted by anything benevolent ever. That is set in stone. That is the judgement of Vardama, for the sins it has committed to be cast as such and to remain as such are too great. It's not supposed to be fair. Nothing is fair. But what is fair is the actions taken and the will to drive them. If this fiend cooperates by ratting out its friends only to return back to contemplation, then that is its will. If it returns to its nature, others' will shall kill it swiftly."
Aryia smirks. "Nothing is ever black and white." A look to Imane. "Unless you live in a druid grove, then you can maybe find a seamstresses. Like I said, the exception, not the rule."
"Regardless. Don't trust them not for a moment. Interesting development though--" She blinks at Aelwyn. "No. Never," she firmly states, squinting at him. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Aya refrains from further comments on fiends: devil, demon, or other. Instead, she focuses on the outlying topics. Namely the mention of seamstresses and ocean-front property. She nods to Imane, some mirth begining to curl her lips. "If I wished to have a master seamstress on hand, I would would just hold my sister hostage." Now she focuses on Aryia. "Not that she would make it an easy task..."
A pause before she shifts, "Or, perhaps you have some materials or manuals I might borrow? She makes a strong point." Another nod, aside, towards Imane. "Whether hidden grove or deserted island, we will need all of that all the same." First cooking and now sewing?
Simony frowns at Imane a moment, "I am called Simony Smithsdottir, not little one." Her expression softens, "I have thought about it since then. I did not trust him, and for now, I still do not. Not even as far as I can throw one... which is significantly farther than I thought possible." Simony grins faintly.
"But as you said, Aryia, nothing is ever black and white. What if his nature /has/ changed? What if he can be trusted? What if they can escape Vardama's judgement. I mean..."
The Goblin gestures with her hands. "If will is so powerful, to be able to break unbreakable bonds, as you said, to stand up to gods and beat them at their own games?" She huffs and leans upon her hand again, gesturing to the barkeep for another mug of tea. "What if that devil's done it?" Her expression sours and she glares at Aelwyn, "EWH, no!"
A gust of chilly fall wind sneaks in with the opening door, a door that Dolan quickly closes behind him. So quickly, in fact, that he manages to shut the edge of his cloak in it. A colorful curse escapes him, something definitely not intended for fragile ears, and he cracks the door again just enough to release the offending garment. The door is then swiftly closed, and he hangs up the twin garments to reveal a sleeveless sheepskin duster over the leather cuff on his left shoulder.
He moves stiffly, like a man aching, and starts across the room in the direction of the bar.
Aelwyn accepts his bottle of wine and slides his coins over the counter, bowing his head towards the keep. He keeps flashing his teeth in amusement at Simony and Aryia. "Tch, this one were simply wondering; it is all sounding like the lonesome stories of the road. Of the good-" The draconian suddenly pauses, as he glances over towards the door. His bottle balances on the counter for a while.
"Of the good, and those lost." The Dragoon then finishes to the group, gnawing open the cork from the bottle and taking subsequently, a deep sip.
Aryia chuffs at Aya, giving her sister a side smirk. "It would be far easier to just bribe me with booze and ask me to make things than try and take me hostage."
She regards Simony, her shoulders rising up high. "Maybe they did, maybe they didn't. The judgement is still the same, and their trust can never be fully gained due to it. If they've done it properly, then we'll see. Until then, they're going to be in that cell for a long fucking time reading."
The mute seems done with the topic, holding her tea out back towards the bar for a refill. She eyes Aelwyn, shaking her head at him before seeing Dolan come up on the approach. She knows of him, and as such, gives the Corona a dip of the head in greeting. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Imane re-enters the tavern dressed more suitable for the weather, including boots! She makes her way back to the bar, taking the time as she crosses the room, to tie her wet hair up in a ponytail high on the back of her head. Once back to the bar she smiles at those present, "Did I miss anything fun??"
Aya gives Aryia a smirk. "I cannot expect you to rescue me every time, sister... though a -trade- is different." She gets the keep's attention to order a pair of drinks. The breeze (and curse) from Dolan's entrance draws her notice. "Dolan," she greet him before turning back to the keep to make it three. Then back to Aryia. "I will start the bribe, now, then. We will need more clothing soon enough, when the city is behind us. Daechir is -very- ... particular."
The Goblin hmmphs at Aelwyn. "Of the good and those lost, indeed. But not seducing demons. Goodness, that is terrible." She sticks her tongue out at the Sith, before looking to Dolan. "Brightest of days, Dolan. Are you wounded?" She lays out a tidy, small pile of coin for the barkeep. "For the teas so far.", she says, getting a nod from the bartender.
Glancing at Aryia, she shrugs. "Well... about that. They've moved him by now, to another monastery, a place, I am told, that is more secure. To protect the devil, not to protect others." Her head cants, "Oh, are you and Aryia heading out from the city?", she wonders of the other Mul'neissa."
The Gobbo offers a shrugs to Imane. "Nothing of import has been missed."
"Oh, hey, brightest of days, Aya." Dolan's response is much more easy and cheerful than his gait or the mess of scars that is the right side of his face would suggest. Aryia gets a raised hand in greeting as well, although it's a polite acknowledgement. He ambles over towards the end of the bar, the far right side of the group, and swings himself one-handed onto a barstool. "There's a damn good reason for that, too," he offers, possibly in response to Aya's remarks. "Thanks. Make mine an ale," he adds to the barkeep.
This earns him a cocked eyebrow and a shake of the head from the barkeep, but he ignores it, turning instead to Simony. "Nah. Just hate the cold, s'all. Least it ain't raining-" He stops short, though, at the mention of protecting a devil. "Who's protecting a devil, and why." In an instant, all the cheer is gone, and his tone goes flat and cold, his entire demeanor sharpening and taking on an edge. Imane gets a long, thoughtful stare and a nod of acknowledgement.
Imane ahhs to Simony but stops as less pleasant tones take over. She returns Dolan's nod and doesn't look as thrilled at the idea of protecting devils as she did discussing high fashion clothing awhile back.
Aryia's attention is bought with a new drink grin, her taking it greedily and peering at her sister. "I'm listening. You have his measurements, yes? Give them to me and I will start thinking of what I can do with it."
She nods once to Simony, but Dolan's sudden seriousness gets her to sigh into her cup. Here we go. She sets her drink down. "Long story short: some Navosian temple has a turncoat devil that's ratting out plans of their ilk to the church as the fiend has been reading scripture. Potentially trying to shed it's ways. We just finished a moral debate of it and concluded with: watch it closely and the moment it steps out of line, it's fucking dead." <Handspeech/Tongues>
Aelwyn's fingers roll around his wine bottle, and he tilts his head as well. "This one has to wonder why as well, a devil would need protection." He says, with a flick of his tail. The draconian takes a sip from his bottle. "Is this what the discussion was about?"
He flashes his teeth then. "The redemption of evil?" There's a brief glance over towards Dolan from those slit pupils. "One seems as if ready for the play, already." He rumbles, in amusement.
Aya sees that added drink makes it to Dolan, though her jaw tighten as he promptly catches the other topic. Not that her ire is directed at him, nor that she faults him for the catch. Fortunately, Aryia offers the synopsis, so Aya takes up her own drink and a long pull before answering Simony's question.
"I may be, yes. There is far too much of fiendish fiends here. Then. Now. Probably tomorrow." Her choice of expletive is redundant, though the word being in yrch has enough consonants and harsh stress to vent some ire. Oddly, its meaning is also clear, even for those having never heard the word before.
The vent improves her mood, as she lifts her cup to Aryia. "I will get them to you. After a careful re-measuring of him." A half-grin. "To be certain."
The Goblin looks morose as the monk fills Dolan in with the relevant details.
"What she said.", she says softly, with a hand gesture towards Aryia. "It was an interesting Guild mission. The redemption of evil is an apt description. We also killed a bearded devil, and embarrassed a second one so badly, he fled back to the Hells under his own power. They were the... changed one's brothers."
Simony eyes Aya and nods. "There has been an .. uptick in infernal activities of late." Understatement of the year."
Dolan picks up the mug as it's slid to him, and raises it to Aya as a silent thank you, but it's pretty obvious that he's laser-focused on the other topic, and he takes a pull of the mug and sets it down on the counter with a soft *clunk*. "Yeah?" The frown remains, suffusing the mobile half of his features and tugging at the scarring. He turns around on the barstool to fully face Aryia, and gives a short, sharp nod. "That's a when, not an if," he replies with a warning note in the words. "Fiends ain't likely to change their stripes, but they are likely to lie. It's what they do, and they've had millennia to perfect it. Don't s'pose you can touch it right now, but the moment it steps out of line, you'll send its arse packing back to Bauglir's Iron Hells if you know wht is good for you. You need a hand with that, say the word."
He eyes Aelwyn curiously. "Huh?" The comment gets dismissed, then. "It ain't new around here, Simony. It's just showin' itself." He settles back, and takes another pull of his mug. "Guess that's what the Sunlord's trying to tell me," he murmurs to himself.
Imane sips her spiced wine, which by now, is no longer warm, but just room temperature. "With an uptick in lower planes activity, might not one presume that the other planes have taken note and put counter plans into motion?" she asks a bit conversational but she seems to be thinking that over internally bu the looks of it.
Aya lifts her glass in return to Dolan and takes another drink from it. It is short, which may be for the best. As soon as mentions of 'uptick' and 'other planes' made, she is forced to return her drink to the bar abruptly. As she bursts out in a sudden eruption of laughter.
Aryia nods in agreement. Too much fiendish fiends in play. But she snorts at her sister. "Please /actually/ get the man's measurements," she signs to her, twacking the other mul on the arm.
She nods once towards Aelwyn at confirmation of the topic. "I agree. It's why I kept saying: it's an exception, not a rule. If angels can fall, the opposite can happen. Unless you get some sign from above, that fucker is two inches away from death at all times."
The coach crosses her legs again, imbibing her drink as she nods along. "Considering all I hear nowadays is said fiends getting the shit beat out of them, I guess they're showing themselves quite stupidly and getting smote for it."
There is a... look that Imane gets from Aryia. Her attention trails, a hand idly rubbing at faint, yet recent, chain scars on her arms. A glance to her sister's outburst if given, a ghost of a smile echoed but her mind is elseplace to find the humor with it. "They are aware. It's why you have people like Dolan here." The massaging of the scars continues. <Handspeech/Tongues>
SImony nods her head at Dolan, "Indeed. I don't trust him. I can't shake the feeling that it's a trick. However, small, nagging part of me says it is possible he has changed. If he is going to be peaceful, then so be it. He can sit and read and discuss philosophy. But if he reverts to his old ways." From her belt, the Gobbo removes her warhammer, laying it atop the bar. "It'll be hammer time for him. Beat his brother damn near to death, and I can take him too."
"But, you can be sure Daues' finest will be informed should things turn ugly, of that you have my word, Dolan."
She stares at Aya for several long moments. "Erm, did I miss a joke?", she wonders. To Imane, she shrugs. "Who knows? It is likely the troubles currently are small enough to escape detection from other planes. Mostly."
"I sure as sunrise hope not," Dolan counters at once. Simony gets a firm nod of agreement. "Smart. I wouldn't trust him either." He returns, though, to the topic, in short order. "The _last_ thing we want here in Alexandria is for it to turn into a battleground between angels and demons. Every last one of us would be flatter than a false copper if that ever happened. Nah, I'll stand in an' fight so long as the Sunlord'll have me." Another long pull of ale. "And I ain't alone in that." Aya gets a significant look."
Aelwyn looks over at this bottle for a while, but then he pushes it aside. "This one apologizes, but this one tastes as if it were from somewhere else." The draconian apologizes to the barkeep with a spread of his hands. Dolan gets a sharp flash of his teeth, "This one hopes one did not forget their part." He turns towards the others. "This one shall wish them the best in their devil swaying ways." He says with an unneeded flourish, before his grin disappears just as quickly as it became to be; and the sith-makar steps outside.
Imane finishes her wine, drops a not small bag of coin on the bartop tos ettle her tab, and smiles to those assembled, "Well, I'm due to be fit for some new attire. I shall return for dinner..." she then gives a wave and makes her exit, her boots clicking on the floor as she goes.
Aya takes several moments to regain her composure. Followed by another to finish her drink, and a last to consider her words. "This is quiet, not an increase. The other planes will do nothing, or require far more to get their attention..." She comments to none or all. "That is my view. Perhaps it is wrong, but I will ever see and hear 'Alexandria' and 'fiend' as linked."
Aryia leans against the bar, head swiveling to and fro to the others as they say their piece. A flick of a hand is afforded for waves to the departing Dawn elf and makari. "Agreed," she motions with her sister's sentiment, her finished easing whatever pain her arms were in. "I've fought both and I sure as shit don't want to get caught between it. Rather just prevent that being a problem."
Big drink. "Anyways. We're in a bar. Not in a war room." She looks to Dolan. "Haven't seen your wife in a hot minute. She keep her shield pressed against her or does she keep making that little space that I can beat the shit out of?" <Handspeech/Tongues>
The Goblin offers a little wave to Aelwyn as he makes to leave, and a nod to Imane as she follows shortly afterwards.
"What, aren't all wars planned at a bar somewhere? If not, it feels like it, sometimes. I guess, you just need a stiff drink to get violence done." She looks to the bartender. "Rum, please."
"She's been most of her time either at the Temple or in the forge," Dolan answers, some of the hard edge easing away a little as the tpic turns. It's far from gone, but less visible. "Master Zein's been after her about that, he tags her every time she doesn't. I'll tell her you asked."
He takes another slug of the drink, then sets it down on the bartop. "I'll be right back," he says, sliding off of the barstool and disappearing out the side door in the direction of the privy.
Aya snorts at Simony's comment on way, though there is much more bemusement in it that her prior reactions. "After they've started, perhaps." Aryia gets a raised brow that is somewhat shared as Aya glances between her and Dolan. Finally, she asks, tone still light, "Is your school and team not enough that you must correct -everyone-, sister?"
"Maybe for you," Aryia shrugs towards Simony before polishing off her ale, the mug getting slid away. A slight smirk dons her face at Dolan. "Good. And if she keeps that open, let me know, perhaps a surprise visit from me will jog that muscle memory to keep that shit closed."
She gives a nod towards Dolan's excuse, her picking up a clean napkin and throwing it over his drink to keep the bartender from taking it. There's a blink, and she swivels over to Aya. "And let people walk around being ignorant of poor form? Fuck no. Especially those that I've helped train, I have a /reputation/ to uphold," she counters, jabbing a finger into the bartop with a grin. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Simony giggles at Aya's question, smirking as her drink arrives. "Well, if people weren't wrong all the time, she'd not have to work so hard keeping everyone in line, now would she?" The Gobbo takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly, before snatching up the glass of rum, and guzzling it down noisily. A few coins are left on the bartop, and she spins around on the stool a few times before hopping down. "It's been an interesting conversation, but I have to head off home. See you!" She wobbles her way to the door.
Aya lifts a hand to bid Simony a polite farewell, even as she looses a new laugh. This one is far more relaxed and pleasant than the prior. "Of course. And when everyone in the city is a paragon of fighting perfection, what then? I would hate for you to grow bored."
Aryia waggles her fingers in a little farewell flutter to the Navosian. "Exactly," she flashes. "Safe travels."
She turns to her sister, a snort escaping the mute woman. "If they grow to be paragons of fighting, I'll let them duke it out to see who's the best while my ass is in the Jade Islands drunk in a hammock," she grins, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder in the vague direction of the docks. <Handspeech>
Aya considers that response, then gives a light roll of one shoulder before she nods. "You would deserve it. You already do. though I am envious that you already have a location in mind. We are still in some debate."
The side door opens to admit a somewhat-lighter Dolan, who immediately ambles back in the direction of the bar to find his covered drink. "I owe you one, whoever did that," he points at the napkin, then hops back up onto the barstool and removes it to take another slug. He sets one elbow on the bar top, drink in hand, turning to face the other two.
Aryia smiles. "Always heard about the place when sailing, never actually got to go there. It's one of the few places on my list that doesn't involve punching something. I suggest something by the sea, if you two are still in debate, if only so if you want to change things up, you can grab a ship and go else place."
The mute pugilist gives a 'finger snap and point' towards Dolan. "No problem. Vacation location or place to settle down, I'm thinking Jade Isles. Where would you want to go to go fuck off from this place?" she asks of the Daeusite, looping him into the conversation. <Handspeech>
"That would be her," Aya informs Dolan with a nudge of elbow towards Aryia. "She is the more intelligent one. She is also the sailor," she reminds glancing to Aryia. "I've nothing against the sea, but that doesn't mean I would attempt to cross it as you would." Her focus then returns to Dolan, brow arching in curiosity of his answer to Aryia's question.
"Where would I go if me and Andie decided to fuck off out of Alexandria?" Dolan takes a pull of his drink, to give himself time to ponder the question, his good elbow leaning on the polished bar top. "Honestly? We'd probably fuck off back to Bryn Myridorn where we were trained. My family's in north Alexandros, hers is in Selentia. "Been giving some thought to that anyway, if I'm honest, when the time comes to lay down the sword and raise a family. A city full o' demons is no place to raise a kid."
Aryia gives Aya a side eye at the measurement of intelligence, her wobbling her hand and nudging her sister back with an elbow. "Debatable."
She rubs her chin at Dolan's answer. "Myridorn? I've been into the kingdoms, if only briefly. Quaint place. A friend's from there. Seems like a good place to do exactly that. Peaceful. Sure as fuck isn't this place." <Handspeech>
Aya muses on Dolan's answer and does not take the bait of the nudge. "I have not visited much of Ea, but I will make note of that. We could travel as often as we wished, I suppose... but that does not seem as comfortable as ... stability. Especially for raising a family."
"The kingdoms see some shit, too," Dolan counters, nodding and taking another pull of his drink. "Just, nowhere near as much. The rules are a bit stricter there. That ain't mean it never happens, and that's what I'm here for. It just ain't happen every day like it does here, yeah?" Siiiiiip, and he breathes out contentedly. "I didn't realize you were a sailor. If you couldn't go to the Jade Islands, where else would you go?"
Aryia nods along with Aya, her attention drifting back to Dolan- she blinks. Looks at Aya. Blinks again. "... how such an outcome escaped my thoughts, I don't know how. Good fucking thing Daechir can cook," she grins widely, the pugilist giving her sister a firm slug in the shoulder. Sisterly love!
She turns to Dolan as she gets her tea, her bowing her head in agreement. "For sure. The time I was there was to deal with clearing out a vacant Taaran worship site. But that's done and done. But yes, always feels like its every fucking day here."
She perks as the topic of sailing comes up. The mute gives a sharp nod. "Yes! Been sailing for... I want to say near a decade. After I got the fuck out of Charn. Real good to have a mul'neissa on board, makes the night shifts far easier to deal with. But if not the Jade Islands..." she rubs her chin. Drinks her tea. Taps the bar. Then snaps her fingers. "Dun Morden. Figure a way in there, see how the Khazad do things for a few decades or so." <Handspeech/Tongues>
Aya finished her drink prior, and has not yet decided to refill it. Perhaps for the best. A brow raises at Aryia's blinking, yet she is wholly unexpecting of the slug to her shoulder. Now she is the one who blinks. "What outcome?" Her glance shift to Dolan, as if he might know what she overlooked.
Dolan, too, bursts into quiet laughter at Aya's confusion, and carefully rotates the shoulder in that cuff, as if it is stiff. "Kids, Aya. Remember what we talked about on the way home from the circus, yeah?" Another pull of ale, which is by now getting quite low. "Don't rightly know how serious you are, but Daechir ain't adventuring again," he says softly. "You heard him."
Aryia snickers at Aya's confusion, her nodding with Dolan. "That's what I was getting at." A little sigh escapes her, the amused smile dropping to a soft ghost of one. "You and Daechir both deserve peace. Be it traveling, settling down, or both." <Handspeech>
Aya is no longer confused, at least. "Ah..." Her cheeks lighten for a moment, but it fades as her expression firms. "I have not forgotten, Dolan, and I did hear him." A nod. " He deserves peace. Comfort. I... I owe him that much, and more. He is interested in the forests of Llyranost. His mother is- was? from those lands. So we may be dwelling in the woods, rather than the beach, sister."
Dolan seems satisfied by the exchange, and nods seriously. "Hope the llyranesi ain't make your lives hell," he offers, setting his mug aside on the bartop with a meaningful *clunk*. "You both deserve to go be happy, yeah? Me, I still got a job to do for a while yet. Maybe someday."
"The forests sound good. I've never been there. I may end up going to Llyranost for a time too, if just to learn how it is there. That is, well, once all the bullshit blows over," Aryia signs, shrugging before grinning slightly. "And if the llyranesi do, send them my way." Elven grace doesn't seem to manifest in the mute's social mannerisms.
She bobs her head along, agreeing with Dolan heartily. "I myself have shit to do and things to see. Had too many decades taken for proper experiences. Maybe someday. But today, I've a team to field." <Handspeech>
Aya does not clench her jaw nor scowl at the thought that the llyranesi might cause them issues, though it does not seem a surprising mention. "There are enough trees for everyone, I hope. They need not even know we are there. If they have issues... then they will be wise to put them aside for their own good." She nods to Aryia. "You have a team, and a ship. All the more reason to not send more trouble your way. Besides..." she snorts with a bit of pride.
"I stood against The Tyrant...The Demon Duke... The Void, itself. I can take care of Daechir and myself." She is confident of that. Then her eyes widen as she remember. "By the gods, I never ordered our food!" She seeks to promptly rectify this as she waves a hand for the barkeep's attention.
When food is mentioned, Dolan looks at the empty mug on the counter, and pushes it towards the barkeep, then slides off the stool. "Got no doubt that you'll be happy wherever you wind up. I'd better get back to the temple, though. Brightest of days, both of you."
And with that, he heads for the door, donning twin cloaks to venture back out into the wind and leave the pair of mul to their cheerful and friendly meal.
-End Scene-