RP:Allure of Language

Summary: Language of love and lust. Cursed. Forgetting.

Broken Barrel Inn

The laws of the land do not apply to this establishment, yet somehow there is order among chaos. Aged, abused by the weather, the Broken Barren Inn stands defiantly against the stormy shores of Rynvale just off the dock, but it is a place far from welcoming. The split, oak carved sign hangs sideways on only one chain, irony not quite lost in the words tarnished by rain. Through that open door barely sitting on it’s hinges, the light of a blazing fire reflects across a dingy interior made to look more wealthy with trinkets. The walls are covered with artifacts and cheap glamour from other worldly locations and ports; rusted weapons and sea-monster fishing lure, ship wheels, a gold-braided rope, the mounted bones of an aquatic creature with seven limbs, tapestries and carvings of various culture, and instruments that no one could know how to play. Centering all of this is Redbeard’s Maiden, herself: a sultry, golden-haired mermaid bust with red painted lips and a beckoning smile, caught in a net draped to the rafters. Mounted to the wall not far behind, a fish-like tail adorned by flawlessly painted emerald scales stretches out behind her. For every first tankard bought in the Broken Barrel she is afforded a salute, a custom that Simon, the bar’s general, has not allowed to die over the years. Dominating the center of this room is an impressive four-sided bar, flanked by booths along all ways, each lit by a hanging candelabra of worked iron. Gatherings of shady sailors and outlaws collect in groups, keeping the atmosphere noisy with harmonica and bagpipe while others plot their next dastardly scheme. While invited to venture upstairs, wandering toward the cellar door might earn you a few dirty looks.

Irenic is relaxing in Broken Barrel trying to have a bit of rum and to track his thoughts. Every face blending together and his memories becoming uncertain as he feels like he should be doing something or be with someone. He's been wondering for days now and his attire doesn't do him well as the tender asks him where his shirt is, “Pensez à votre affaire.” His low gruff tone emits throughout the establishment, but is somehow less threatening by his ridiculous native tongue. He reaches behind his back where his wings are supposed to be as if he had something stored there, but nothing. Long slender fingers grasping at nothing but a couple of deep red welts adoring both sides of his spine and he remembers… ‘Oh right, I'm cursed.’ He asked for a drink, “Ron s'il vous plaît,” while motioning the drink pantomime. The bar keep guesses right at his request and little does even Irenic know he doesn't have any money. He drinks away, caring even less that his attire exposes his every muscle carving hills and valleys in his tawny and tattooed skin.

Meri was often spotted at the Barrell. It was just a stone's throw away from her work, easy to sneak out mid day for a quick drink, a bite to eat. Whatever. This is why Lita and Meri have a man running the front desk -- both women can be fickle, flighty, and were definitely prone to doing whatever the heck they wanted. A tattooed hand is placed on the door of the Broken Barrell, shoving it open and in steps Meri just in time to hear Irenic speaking a certain language that she has been exposed to a handful of times and finds herself rather fond of. It can be hit or miss as to how social Meri is feeling that particular day. Today though her mood has been affected by a certain dust that a certain alchemist who likes to hang around Cenril produces. Giddier than the norm, Meri slides right on over to where Irenic is, her blue eye seek to lock directly with Irenic's own gaze as red lips twist up into a pleasant smile. "Hi!" Meri says in a very chipper voice. "You have some very lovely tattoos." Is what she leads this conversation with, not entirely sure that Irenic can understand her. We are trying, but in the grand scheme of things...how much did Meri care if he could or could not understand her? Questionable. "I have heard that language you speak before. It is very lovely. I am very fond of it."

Irenic had to turn his head fully to look at the woman with his mismatched eyes as she pulled up on his left and that eye is brown and blind. The right eye a chilling silver looks her up and down and even takes in her own ink. Where he is from tattoos weren't a decoration, they were viewed as status and judging by his he is some ruthless warrior. This is assumed not just by his brand of tattoos but also the scar spanning his eye and his lip among a plethora of others on his body. A particular nasty one in one of the deep valleys his abdomen muscles poke in his skin. A hand pushes the hair on the top of his head back which only accent the brewing hairs at his temples before that hand gives a thumbs up with a, “merci.” He empties his glass and motions the bar keep for another right before her mention of knowing others that speak like him was met with a look mixed with surprise and anger. He would ask who, but can't. Being so close to the Avian she would pick up on her favorite scent coming from him and the elongated pointed pierced ears give it away, but where are his wings? “Je suis heureux de rencontrer Irenic. et tu es?” Being nearly seven foot still makes him quite tall sitting at the bar as those mismatched gaze looks down at her. He attempts to be friendly but his smirk exposing crowded white teeth comes off a devious and dangerous.

Meri | The grin that forms across Meri's lips would spread from ear to ear if it could as she listens to Irenic speak. The woman literally has no idea what he is says, as far as she knows Irenic could just be some fancy word that she does not understand and so he gets absolutely no name in return. The conversation that they are trying to have is definitely one-sided on both of their parts. And how long it would last? Meri does not know. Thankfully the drugs altering her mental state have not slowed the mind down so much that Meri forgets she often has parchment and charcoal. These things are fished out of her satchel and placed on the counter between them, perhaps they would have use for these writing instruments yet. Perhaps Irenic could not speak in common but maybe he could write? Or maybe they can indulge in a game of pictionary. Meri's favorite scent often depended upon her mood. On more somber days it would be the smell of wild flowers. But her mood is beyond elated at the moment, purple dust, hot guy with tattoos, and that lovely language that she is so fond of. Meri has met enough Avains that she does see the signs, the height, the tattoos, the language. No wings? The woman leans back enough to take a gander at Irenic's back. In a sober state she might be less touchy-feely but right now Meri thinks it is a good idea to reach out with a tattooed hand to let the tips of her index and middle finger brazenly trail down the scars where wings would be. "You cannot speak common, can you? What happened to you? Where are your wings?"

Irenic works on his second rum while the woman checks him out as if totally oblivious to his lack of clothes being only tattered black slacks. A gruff groan came to him when she pulled out a different avenue for them to communicate. He can understand her, but even when he tries to write common it switches in his brain to Vereitian he tried to explain, “Il sera toujours dans Vereitien, je suis désolé.” So, he just draws an arrow to himself and his name, then he draws an arrow towards her with a question mark. Upon closer inspection of him she can see that there is some sort of coverup ink across his heart, only her expert eyes could pick it up though. When she reached out and touched him though, he flinched and sat straighter. He didn't seem upset about it though, just surprised as her next question was given another larger question mark with his gravelly tone, “Ah, je ne suis pas sûr. Je ne peux que supposer que ce soit le karma.” His messy left handed writing reached over and across her which allowed her to see his intricate forearm tattoos accenting every muscle and scar. He sketches some symbol most associated with ‘curse’ and then another arrow pointed to his name.

Meri | "Irenic," she says, as it finally dawns on her that he is trying to communicate his name to Meri. It seemed to finally click in the woman's brain once she started making use of the charcoal and paper. The artist inches her stool just a bit closer to Irenic so she could watch what he was writing as it was being written. "My own name is Meri. It is nice to meet you Irenic." The avain may sit up straighter as a result of Meri reaching out to touch the scars on his back, but this is another one of those things that Meri just does not care to notice in her present state. Irenic doesn't seem particularly upset anyway, and her hands are back to their own sides. It's at this point that Meri sets her sights on the bartender, ordering both herself and Irenic a shot of rum. At this stage in her life, Meri and Simon are quite familiar with one another and they duo suffering from a communication breakdown will not be left waiting for long. "It is very nice to meet you Irenic." Getting past the name is one issue but understanding that Irenic has lost his wings because of a curse is an entirely different issue. This takes a little bit more processing for Meri. Karma, that is at least a word that the woman knew. She could pull out the details of what Irenic is trying to convey based on that one word. "Karma," she repeats. "So you upset somebody by doing something to them and they took your wings?" This was at least something that Irenic could give a yes or no indication to.

Irenic gladly took his third rum with a raise of it to Meri, still unaware he had no money is hole ridden pants. Giving a wink in return to her pleasure to meet him as it's mutual. He's not even sure why he's here for he doesn't remember having to take the boat to get here and the only thing think fresh in his mind anymore is the painful shift from beast to man then, back again. One short nod given and a point to his nose then her indicating that she got it right on the nose… sort of. He goes on to explain he's not a good man and that it could be a plethora of people which sounded like, “J'ai beaucoup mal à cause de ma journée. Ce pourrait être n'importe qui. Tout ce que j'ai pu mettre en place est que c'est une malédiction d'amour.” The remainder of his explanation goes on to say he thinks it's a curse of love, everyone knows the word amour and even if not, she surely heard that other Avian say it. Flashes of many female faces cross his mind about which cursed him or caused it, but he cannot place one just yet. Another gruff grunt as he starts to down his third rum.

Meri | Amour was an easy enough concept to understand, that she has also at least heard thrown about casually amongst lovers during casual conversation. My amour. Who would not want to use that as a nickname for a lover? It had such a nice flow to it. Her elbow comes to rest upon the bar's countertop and her hand comes to rest in her chin as she listens to Irenic speak, a slow smile slipping across painted red lips. Meri is trying to actually focus on understanding the words coming out of his mouth, as there are plenty of words she might be able to successfully guess. Journée. Journey. Malédiction. Malediction....Duh. Amour. Love. She could be piecing these things together and possibly coming to some realization that maybe Irenic was cursed because he is a bit of a player...! But no, blue eyes start focusing intently on Irenic's lips, the way they move when he talks, the way the words sounded, and how melodic it all was. Common sucked. Common was boring. It had such ugly and harsh sounding words. Meri inhales and exhales a wistful sigh as she derails the subject of curses with the admission of, "I just absolutely love listening to you talk."

Irenic didn't really think much of his native speak, but he knows that look that women get. The one where they aren't really listening and just looking, so he finishes off his drink and sets it on the bar too. For a while he just tells her some generic story of whatever he can think of at the time, for all she knows he could be mentioning how he destroyed a whole pixie village before or tortured servants. All in all he's just not been a very good guy, but the curse only activated when he truly fell in love so maybe he isn't all that bad deep down. Maybe another rum is taken down when his voice becomes a little more solemn when he mentions how he had to bury a young orphan boy at a beach here in Rynvale and maybe that's why he's drawn here today. He places his own elbow on the bar top and turns to her which now she can fully see the expanse of tattoos across his chest and down his arms along with how his abdomen muscles cut in the dim light of the tavern. He starts out saying her name in such a way that she would want to hear him say it over and over agin, “Alors Meri. Parlez-moi de ce tatouage que vous avez ici.” If she couldn't tell he was asking about her own tattoos he just as boldly reached out and caressed a finger over the artwork on her arm. “C'est bel.” Meaning it's beautiful.

Meri was listening! Sort of! It just wasn't really an active sort of listening, perhaps if she could understand what Irenic was saying she'd be more inclined to do more than listen to the sounds and the rhythms. It really doesn't help that she was under the influence, and not of the rum that she has basically forgotten about. There were parts were Meri could tell that Irenic was divulging somber information, his tone revealed that much. She did not understand that he was speaking of an orphan boy and yet she knew to frown in a sympathetic fashion during this story. Meri's heart may have well have skipped a few beats hearing her name spoken with that accent, it definitely causes her to melt. Her gaze doesn't actually tear itself from Irenic's lips until his own fingers caress against her tattooed skin. She does not jump, is not surprised, and even in a sober state she was used to people admiring the artwork of her arms. Now that her gaze is off of Irenic's mouth, Meri recalls her drink. It's tipped back and the glass is placed upside down on the countertop before Simon as a sign that she was not interested in another. "I grew up in a port town." Not Rynvale, but she does not mention where. "I have just always been fascinated with the ocean, the creatures within it, the stories behind it. I also love art, and colors..." and tattoos. "So It really made sense for me to want to get these." Her gaze is on Irenic's tattoos, now that he as turned giving her full few of torso and arms. She might even be admiring his muscles. "Irenic. A man suffering from a curse of love." See! She wasn't totally manning out on Irenic here. To Irenic's own tattoos, and Meri does not keep her hands to herself either, opting to mimic Irenic's own gesture with a brush of her own hand against his arm. "And your tattoos? They are a sign of...." A pause to consider how it was explained to her by a certain other avain. "Your social standing in your culture? And of your family?" Was that accurate? Meri was still learning.

Irenic donned that devilishly handsome smirk once more with a short deep chuckle of amusement when she touched him back. He knocks back another rum, feeling the effects by now, as he gives her a nod at her assumption. The arm she just brushed against reaches up and gently grasps her own arm while scooting his stool even closer to her, making his legs nearly touch the outer sides of her own legs. He leans a bit into her while bringing her hand up to allow her to caress the tattoos starting in the warm pulse of his neck, “Jougernaut.” Which was his position in the Avian Army of Vere and he explains the rank, “C'est-à-dire que ce qui s'emboîte est déplacé ou détruit.” His hand takes her own a little lower there something was covered up, something crest shaped meaning orphan, “orphelin.” The type of house only reserved for the wickedest troubled youth called monster, “monstre.” Trailing lower to the bumps of his abdomen in explaining his fake royal name, nobility of Corier, “Maison noble de Corier.” His hand gently sets her own back down once it trailed over his forearm which were another forgery meaning oldest noble heir, “Le plus ancien héritier noble.” He didn't bother leaning back into his chair and if she were probably in her right mind and he wasn't speaking another language she would have been ran from this dangerous man. He asks if he answered her questions well and punctuated even more on her name, “Est-ce que cela répond à vos questions, Meri?”

Meri was truly trying to keep her attention on what Irenic was saying, looking to actively pluck out the words that she does understand so that she can at least form some vague sense of the meaning behind his words. Jougernaut. Absolutely no clue what that means but it sounds like a very formible word. Monstre. Monster? Interesting. Noble. The tattooed woman doesn't quite get far enough to string any sort of interpretation, accurate or not, of just what Irenic is trying to communicate with her. At this particular moment he was proving quite distracting, not just because Meri was amongst the women who were suckers for the language he speaks, but oh Sven help her those abs. Blue eyes remain fixed on Irenic's hand and where it moves hers to, but her focus was not on any of the tattoos he was trying to show her. Of course the final word out of Irenic's mouth before turning the conversation back to her is her own name. Meri is just going to go right ahead and be -the worst-.With no shame and artificial confidence, the woman leans right in toward Irenic in a bid to press red lips right against his. It would not be a challenge for Irenic to pull away or dodge this attempt should he so desire but if he does not Meri will be quite content to let this kiss be a prolonged one.

Irenic’s frayed mind may not remember the women he seduced or even the woman who activated his curse, but it seems old habits die hard. He noticed ‘the look’ and that was all he needed to push a little further just to see where it ended up, not that he wasn't mad at the result. Meri is quite the attractive lass and one of the few that can make tattoos look good at the same time. As if muscle memory kicks in one of his long tattooed wrapped about the woman’s waist while the other hand placed itself at the back of her head to deepen their kiss. Having to lean down to do this act some of his dusky graying hair may caress her brow, but it would be those scarred lips that steal the show for being such a tall muscular gruff guy he's quite adept at kissing. Just a soft nearly inaudible moan vibrated gently between them before he decides to leave her wanting more. As gently as possible breaking their roughly passionate kiss he does so and untangles himself from her adorning an impressed smirk this time. He mentions something about the thrill of getting such an unexpected kiss from a beautiful woman as her, “Quel bisous inattendu d'une belle femme.” He wipes her lipstick off his lips onto the back of his hand and teaches her woman by gesturing to her, “femme.” Then the word beautiful with a soft caress to her cheek, “belle.” Lastly the word kiss as his hand dropped to let his thumb caress her bottom lip, “baiser.” He orders another rum and awaits its arrival while mismatched gaze looks down on her suggestively.

Meri had no expectations here in terms of skill level but she was pleasantly surprised as to how adept Irenic was at kissing. The passionate kiss is eagerly embraced until Irenic decides to take on the role of tease by breaking their kiss, intensified by the compliments paid and seductively explained, meaning conveyed quite successfully to a woman who does not speak the language. Irenic thumb trials along her bottom lip and Meri cannot help the smile that forms across them. This is a language lesson that Meri would remember. There may be a language barrier (on Meri's side) but the blonde woman is more sinner than she is saint and she has a few ideas as to what that suggestively look could mean. As Meri logics it out, the two of them could continue to sit here attempting to converse with one another, knowing full well that Meri understands next to nothing of what Irenic is saying to her or...Blue eyes travel from Irenic to the stairs that lead to the second level of the Broken Barrel. The decision is made in a few fractions of a second but Simon is given the chance to refill Irenic's rum. With the rum placed in front of Irenic, Meri reaches for the avain's hand while her feet find the floor. There would be a subtle tug of his hand as Meri attempts to move them in the direction of the stairs. "Take your drink and come with me." Where? She has a room upstairs. To do what? Ah, those things are best kept behind closed doors but it would be nothing that Irenic would object to provided he willingly follows her upstairs. If this adult activity is something he is interested in pursuing, he would find that Meri is not the sort of woman who is going to want to stick around until morning's light cuddling. It may be her room, but she had no issues with sneaking out of it. And if he decides to turn Meri down on this offer, the rejection would be accepted fairly gracefully, with little more than a pout of lips that need a bit of lipstick reapplication. Not a top priority right now. Simon perhaps may concerned about the tab they have rung up, but Meri is a regular so it's not the most alarming scenario he has been faced with.

Irenic’s grin allows himself to be lead away from his rum and all is going well until he remembers something… he's castrated or was a while ago. He fails to remember by who or the fact that he was a slave to said necromancer. At this point they were alone he had gently picked her up being nearly seven foot to save himself back ache and went back to kissing her against the closed door of the room. Hands wondering before he stopped and gently set her back down to try to explain with a motion to his area that he doesn't have a member… anymore, “Je n'ai pas de membre ... Anonyme.” His head drops along with his shoulders, slightly. With little shame he exposes that there is nothing to expose in a sort of unapologetic manner, giving off a subtle shrug. He buttons the trousers back up as he seems he can care less about his awful plight when he lets out a short chuckle. He bends over a little and places a gentle kiss on the woman's forehead after mentioning that a dalliance with her would have been one to remember, “Faire l'amour avec vous aurait été difficile à oublier ... Je suis désolé Meri.” And that he was sorry. He lays one last rough kiss on her lips before slightly staggering his way down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the bar.

Meri | Everything seemed to be going great for these two as they go up the stairs, Meri willing to go along with being hoisted up off the ground in the heat of the moment. To say that Meri is shocked, surprised and confused would be an understatement. She is all of these things and this is a moment that is going to rate very high on her lists of disappointments in life. How can you do this to a woman, Irenic? The blonde is in such a state that all she can think to do is blink after Irenic as he departs, unable to process this well enough to give a kinder reaction. Worst one night stand attempt ever. Sorry, Irenic!