RP:Belle Femme
Summary: A less exciting meeting with Meri, but interesting nonetheless.
The Whaler’s Bar
The Whaler's Bar is a well-loved destination in Cenril, and at any given time the sound of raucous laughter and the buzz of talk will be audible from outside its walls. Inside will often reside any number of individuals from all races and walks of life, as the owner has made it clear that all are welcome within his tavern. It is a space especially beloved of the fishermen and sailors who frequent Cenril's shores, and has the sort of worn homeyness that can be expected from such a haunt. The building is made of sturdy oak, though the interior is dingy from time and innumerable patrons. The original dark stain is faded and scratched, especially on the floor, but despite its flaws the Bar is kept cheerily lit by lamps. The bar itself is narrow, pitted and glossy, and at the end of the day finding a seat along its length can be a difficult thing. So too is the task of cleaning made difficult by day's end, and no matter the attempts made at wiping spills and sweeping the floor, surfaces are often dingy and sticky -- not that the regular clientele cares about such trite things as tidiness. Indeed, various old trophies from local sailing legends line the walls in a cluttered display and it usually smells of seawater, sweat and fish. Assuredly The Whaler's Bar is a scarred, beat up bar, but to hear the locals tell it there is no better place for a drink after a long day in all the port cities in the land.
Irenic was out day drinking again even though it's been getting him into nothing but trouble lately… Not that he remembers, but he had to leave Rynvale because for some reason they don't serve to people with no shirts or shoes on…. Oh well. Irenic sits at a random table with more than a few chairs around it which were occupied by him and a couple of some decent looking townswomen. They were buying it drinks it seems and gawking at his muscular form poured into those tattered black slacks. They swoon whenever he talks and even though they understand nothing of what he says they keep asking questions. Questions of his tattoos and ‘what's this called’ or ‘what's your word for this’. Most men would take advantage of this and drink up with the lovely ladies to earn some affection, but Irenic just slumps down in his chair with a hand stuffed into one of his empty pockets and drinks his liquor with no intent to bed the females. The sides of his graying dusky hair seem to have been shaving leaving only the top long in obscuring mismatched bloodshot eyes. One of the ladies offer him a smoke and he shrugs before taking it once it's lit. He takes a hit off of it to discover it was laced with herbs, nice touch and he just continues to enjoy his drinks and the swooning women with a bored expression.
Meri's arrival is a subtle one, the woman places her hand on the door of the establishment, pushes it open, and in the artist walks. She is dressed in her usual style, worn in black boots, tight black pants, a corset, more rough and tumble than feminine especially when compared to some women of the land. Hung over her satchel is a black jacket for when the sun falls. Her mood was so-so at the time of entering but it plummets after her habitual inspection of the room to note the faces present. It is Irenic that Meri's gaze lingers, but her feet aid her in making a beeline for the bar. They had already encountered one another at Larket's most recent fair and neither one of them saw fit to try and acknowledge the other. Though in Meri's defense? Irenic sort of looked rather busy attending to the Queen even before things got out of hand. She was not sure if a smile and hello was even proper and has been looking to him to take that lead. That trend would continue. A bottle of whiskey is ordered along with a short glass to accompany it. Bootle in one hand, glass in another, Meri moves a bit further down the bar's line to find a seat near one end of the bar. Irenic would be left to his townswomen while Meri made herself comfortable in stool, poured herself a drink, and then pulled out her art supplies. At least she was not the crazy sort?
Irenic noticed the woman come in and mismatched gaze fell on the newcomer with a suggestive smirk. This earned Meri a jealous glare from the pair of women with him for they have been trying to get him to smirk or smile all day, but this one walks in and gets THAT devilishly handsome smirk from scarred lips. They scoot in closer to either side of the Avian with no wings and try asking about his tattoos while caressing him. He sort of brushes them off and uses his smoking hand to point at Meri asking, “qui est-ce?” They roll their eyes and tell him her name and that she's known for tattoos before quickly trying to change the subject again. His brow lowers in concentration as if recalling a far away memory and he wouldn't even remember seeing her face among the crowd that day for he was to be seen not heard as a guard, but he would be surprised to learn she saw him seeing as he was covered in armor and not recognizable that day. That gruff low tone of his excusing himself, “Merci les femmes et pardonnez-moi.” Long legged strides make it over to Meri, “Bonjour. Meri était-ce?” There is was again, the way his accent twirls with her name in some sort of hypnotic dance when he asked, ‘Meri was it?’
Meri | Even though there was distance between them, Meri must have heard her name being spoken by the ladies at the table for she casts a glance back over her shoulder at them. Keen of hearing maybe? Today Meri was relatively sober, there may be a bit of whiskey to her blood but there was not faint dusting of purple evident in her blonde hair. The woman was still amiable enough (all things considered), as a smile still forms across red lips, but she was not over the top friendly and that language of love that Irenic speaks does not seem to melt Meri in quite the same way. That is not to say a fondness does not exist, no. She is very much a fan, that fondness it just not intensified at this moment. "Oh hello, Irenic. Yes, the name is Meri." No, she has not brushed up on the language, but there was no gesture to a chair so Meri can only presume that question must not be 'is this seat available, Meri?' Stab in the dark. "But you already double checked that fact before you even made it over here, didn't you?" Red lips twist up into a proud smirk as she manages to sneak that light jab in. Was she really taking it to heart? Eh. Did she find the situation to be slightly awkward? Yup. "It is good to see you again. How have things been? Simon hit me with a really lofty bill at the Barrel. Thank you for that."
Irenic looks miles away in her thanking him for the bill before a dark chuckle came from the nearly seven foot man. “Vous êtes les bienvenues belle femme,” though the language barrier is there it is evident that he was being sarcastic in telling her she was welcome. He doesn't ask to sit he just does in turning the back of the chair towards her and straddling the seat so his tattooed forearms rest on the back of the chair. Because sitting like normal is for losers and sane people! Cigarette still in hand when he takes another long drag before pointing again at her stuff asking what she's got going on there, “Qu'est-ce que vous avez?” Pointing (twice!), taking a seat, being nosey and sarcasm… This guy is rude! It's unclear how long he'd already been drinking for, but maybe he tables have turned where he's just extra attracted to Meri today as mismatched gaze doesn't seem to leave the woman's face and body language. He leans his temple on the fist of his free hand and this causes rebel locks to fall in his line of sight once more.
Meri did not need to understand the language to know what that tone meant, sarcasm was a tool used often by this particular woman. Her retort is not quick to come as she finds Irenic not only joining her, despite the fact that she is pretty sure he did not ask, but he starts pointing at her stuff and speaking those lovely words. Their meaning is lost to her but with the way he is pointing at her sketchbook and charcoals that she had previously pulled out of her bag. The woman's analysis is that this is a shallow attempt at conversation, the way his eyes were so focused on her and her body language, she was not entirely sure he really cared about talking. Language barriers considered. There were many ways that Meri could respond to all of this, some more unpleasant than others. It is the fact that Irenic is far more intoxicated than she is that really inspires Meri to show him mercy. She had an unfair advantage in her sober state. Whiskey is poured for herself, just an inch into her glass, Meri opting to take it easy on the boozing today. "Well I was going to keep working on a piece for a woman by the name of Pilar. She was hoping to have a tree done on her arm so... my current project." Glass of whiskey in one hand, Meri flips open her sketchbook to a rough drawing of the Xalious tree. While the design was ultimately meant to be in color, Meri thus far just had a black and white sketch
Irenic allowed his attention to be pulled to her sketch and it's hard to read his expression for a long moment or even read what he's trying to do. The chilling silver eye being the only seeing one analyzing the work for a moment from afar before a sort of impressed smirk comes over his lips to remark on the piece, “C'est une pièce bien faite.” No form of flattery needed as he said it was well done before he gives some sort of notion about trees, “Chose intéressante. Des arbres. Ils ont des racines dans tous les êtres vivants, mais font l'ombre d'actes sombres.” Maybe he did come over here to chat, she would have already known if it was the other thing. Then he asks what the piece would mean to this person, “Quelle signification cela tient-il pour elle?” The only indication of what he asks is his free hand motioning to the core of his chest cavity with all five fingertips. He found her lack of interest in him today and all business attitude a bit endearing as he takes another drag of his cigarette, uncaring if the smoke billows towards her. When it does he says something about smoke being drawn to beauty, “La fumée ne suit que la belle, mais elle vient des méchants.”
Meri could perhaps be wrong, there was a saying about assumptions and the artist was often full of them. Irenic's assumptions was correct though, Meri very much had a business attitude going with the cursed avian. Things had ended in a very interesting way for them and Meri was definitely guarded this go around. If he wanted to talk, she was ultimately inclined to listen. Conversation is just one way to start learning a language, no? Plucking out words that she could relate to came far easier this go around, as she is still in a relatively sober state. Compared. Chose sounded like choose, or choice. intéressante. Interesting. Down the line she went again, deciphering what she could. "Ah, well my understanding is that Pilar's lover is recently deceased and this is the spot that they met. At the Xalious Tree. There will be a heart on the trunk when I am finished and it will also glow blue like the tree. So this tattoo is dedicated to her love for this woman. Cassy, I believe her name was." There was a degree of hesitation when Meri spoke of these details, like she was not particularly familiar with Pilar and her story and was trying to make sure she presented the details accurately. "What do you spend your time doing when you're not slumming around bars?"
Irenic seemed to be content letting her do the talking this time around as he went back to leaning himself on the back of the chair between them. “Impressionnant ... L'art n'est pas l'histoire,” he impressed… By the art not the story. He gives his own notion of love, “L'amour est une chose fugace dans mon temps. Jamais durable et toujours faux. C'est ce qui m'a mis dans ce désordre!” This was followed by another dark chuckle, always so cynical and uncaring of his own plight being cursed by love. At the moment he seems stuck this way as he's never seen with a woman these days. Speaking of which he tries to explain that he doesn't remember and the curse is affecting his mental state after a shrug, “Je ne sais vraiment pas. La malédiction gâche ma mémoire.” The hand holding the cigarette points to his temple for emphasis before taking the last drag from the L.
Meri | Try as Meri might, she is unable to keep up with the meaning behind what Irenic is explaining now. At least in her present state of mind she is more apt to engage and less prone to distraction. "Sometimes, you pick words that are easy for me to understand. Impressiannant." Her tongue trips over the pronunciation of that word, but she tries. "That sounds like you are impressed. Histoire, mémoire..." Meri's nose wrinkles up a touch, sipping from her glass of whiskey before she goes on to explain. "Sometimes, you talk too fast and you do not give me any clues as to what the words man. Fugace." Just one example of the many words she did not understand. The bottle she purchased for herself is slid more in between herself and Irenic, an indication that he was welcome to have some. "The clues help, a lot. So it sounds like what you are telling me is that you are impressed with the work....The art, not the meaning. Love. Something. Something. Fake. Something. Something. Disorder. And it sounds like perhaps your memory is also cursed? What can you and what can you not remember?"
Irenic guffawed now and it fills the tavern. If he could remember what he forgot he wouldn't need to remember. He only gave her a thumbs up that she was guessing pretty right and those mismatched hues finally fall on the whisky between them, but he didn't need it to continue to chat with her. He thinks for a moment and slowly tries to draw out the words ‘I remember.’ “Je me souviens…” his eyes fell on her lips when he leans on the back of the chair again and he motions to his own as he mentions that he remembers their kiss, “Notre bisou.” He puts out the cigarette and throws it on the floor, rude, uncaring. He was quiet in thought in a way he can explain that sometimes he just needs a reminder and then it all comes back. He pulls up an empty glass and points to himself. He reaches behind the bar for an ice cube and before he clinks the cube in the glass he motions to the ladies that reminded him of her name, “Ces femmes vous ont appelé Meri.” The ice cube drops before he takes her whisky bottle in his hand while gesturing between them assimilating their conversing as he pours a little liquid, “c'est nous. Parlant.” And then he slides the whisky over ice to her wrapping it all together that it's like pieces to a puzzle and all he needs is a little help remembering, “Tout comme un puzzle.”
Meri had no shame in 'tsk'ing Irenic for his rude behavior, swiping some empty glass of the counter and putting it off to one side of Irenic. No since in making him look at the swill, it was just meant to be within arms reach. Meri most certainly would have to temporarily abandon her seat to accomplish this, but her point would be made and she'd return to her stool immediately after. "At least drop it into some an empty beer glass if you've not got ashtray near by. C'mon." A brow is lifted as Irenic makes mention of their kiss, and then he indicates to the ladies -- who are sent into a gossiping titter now because what? Are Irenic and Meri talking about them now? After they had spent so much time trying to warm him up with drinks? The whiskey is passed her way and Meri takes it in hand with an appreciative smile, but it short lived."To add to all of your troubles, that must be a very frustrating way to live. Only having fragments of your memories. Do you have an idea of how long you have been suffering from this curse?" A sip from the drink Irenic just slid her way.
Irenic shrugs just slightly in a devil-may-care attitude. “Cela peut être, mais tout cela signifie vraiment que je peux vous rencontrer encore et encore,” he said in some sort of notion that brings up a smirk and a slight flirtation in his timbre while he reached out to lightly grasp at her chin. He had said something along the lines of not caring because it just means that he gets to meet her over and over again. His hand drew back and crossed over the back of the chair atop the other one as he asks her ‘so, do you regret our kiss?’ nice and slow so she might better understand, “Alors, regrettez-vous de vous embrasser?” The smirk he gives her proves himself confident she might want to try the act again while those mismatched eyes watch for her response from those red lips.
Meri felt...well she felt a whole mix of emotions that one could probably dedicate paragraphs too. Some pleasant. Many not. Life was complicated but Meri would play it off with a smile, her hand reaching up to claim hold of Irenic's hand -- specifically the one that has hold on her chin. The goal was to get him to release his hold, which she presumed would be easy enough for it was not a rough hold, and then she would ultimately let go of his hand. All with a smile. "Do I regret it? No, the kiss was enjoyable. It was everything else...." Everything from Irenic running out because....to the bill she woke up to. As good looking as Irenic is, his confidence is going not going to be serving him well tonight. "You know? There are some people I am meant to meet up with. I really should get on my way to that meeting...It was good seeing you again." Her departure would not be a hasty one, she had art supplies to pack up, her tab to pay. -Her- tab.
Irenic was only doing some harmless flirting and a smirk remained in his own amusement when she seemed to want to leave in a hurry. He wasn’t going to be stopping her and that was one of his mottos ‘never chase after a fleeing woman.’ Probably a sucky motto, but that's what you get left with when you have no parents. His eyes shamelessly linger over her in her rush to leave and once she was finally able to start walking away he would offer, “Bonne chance et bonne nuit belle femme.” Funny, HIM wishing HER luck for he obviously needs it more than anyone these days.
Meri tried to play it cool, but yeah. Irenic had it right, Meri was dipping out on him and it was done pretty quick, but alas! Fool me once, shame on you, isn't that how the saying goings? Irenic's final words give Meri pause, there was little about it that she understood but it was going to stick out in her mind, maybe because of her lack of understanding and her unwillingness to stay and inquire. At least for the moment. It mostly just had a nice ring to it, though she often said that about much of the language. "I have a feeling I will see you around. Until then, Irenic." Out of the bar and to the streets she goes. How long until those women that were trying to entertain Irenic earlier swarm back in? Quick. It is done well before the bar's door closes behind Meri and shields the street from view again.