RP:Definitely Not Alcoholics

Summary: Kelay Tavern breeds friendly conversation just like the old days between Svard, Rilla, Demeter, and a dog.

Valentine’s day shmalentines day as far as Rilla was concerned. The young vampire backed through the door to the bar, stomping out a clove cigarette that she’d just barely started in the dirt. Mostly she was just happy not to be stuck in the cold and snow for a change. The tavern itself was decorated, but only minimally. Rilla was glad for the change, still in her customary all-black as she tugged her hood from over auburn curls. Eyeing the sign that she wasn’t sure she’d spotted before, Rilla chucked, taking a seat at the bar. “I guess I better follow the rules, huh? Wouldn’t be like me not to.” She laughed before ordering herself a glass of whiskey, sliding over coin enough for several. “Keep them coming, yeah?” She turned around to face the door then, boots tapping against her stool as she surveyed the familiar establishment.

Svard arrived from the dark. Behind him, through the doors, the quiet dark had settled on Kelay Village. A peace nestled beneath the placid night sky, lit by a crescent moon, and a faint breeze from the east. The pleasantness of this place, the centrality of it, lent to itself a hint of the entire realm's nature. This had been the place that defined his new home. It was the lighthouse in the dark for all those that travelled here. It was strange to see the Smith so far from Rynvale. The heavy, bear-skin coat unfastened and open to reveal the simple shirt of white wool beneath. Brown woolen pants beyond. The hood of his lavish outer garment was pushed back for once - a bear's head complete with intact upper jaw. It rested between his broad shoulders as he tread across the weathered floorboards towards the bar with two small canvas sacks in hand. His blonde hair pulled back in narrow braids tight to his skull and his beard, oiled neatly, combed out. A wild intensity to his look even among the strange fellows that so frequented Mesthak's humble hearth and home. An intensity of look contrasted sharply with an easy, good-nature, as he lifted one of the sacks to the bar and pushed it across to the beaten surface. "The nails you needed. A gift." He said. And a tumbler of whiskey set before him. His eyes, glacial blue, slid over Rilla for a moment before he gestured to the glass before her. "Cheers."

Rilla watched the door as it swung open, crystalline gaze sliding over the newcomer. His own brand of wildness different from hers, but familiar. She looked over her shoulder as her drink was presented, turning back to face the counter. Her shoulders stiffened, fighting the urge to turn around and watch the entrance. She looked from the amber liquid to the man’s hands when she felt his eyes on her, his seemingly good nature met with a guarded stare before it broke into a slight smile. “Cheers.” She lifted her drink and nodded her head, a stray curl falling into her face only for her to push it right back behind her ear and down half of her glass. It burned on the way down, warming her from the inside out and her nose wrinkled before she set the glass back onto the counter, one thin hand rested over the top of it. “You remind me of someone.” Mahogany brows pulled together and her head tilted to one side slightly as she studied him. “I was staying with a group of Kuronii not too long ago, but I don’t know that we met?” She’d filled in the blanks, though the slight redhead clearly wasn’t one of them. Her shoulders shrugged, jacket hanging open around her, weighted down by the knives lining it that caught the light before she could straight up again to hide them from view.

Svard did not hurry his drink. The pull he took from it miniscule. Still, as his eyes cut appraisingly over the woman's features, he set about to answer after settling himself at the worn-out bar of Hollow's oldest establishment. Broad palms, rife with callouses and worn through the trade, lay flat upon the counter as he squared his seat some to the voice in question. This close, perhaps, she might catch hints of leather, bay rum, and the telltale acrid touch of charcoal and coke from the fire he tended throughout nearly the entirety of his days. If he saw the knives the Smith offered no acknowledgement, His eyes held her own as he smoothed his hands down his coat and took hold of his tumbler once more. "I'd remember." He said with an easy-going certainty. A faint smile tugging at his lips, drawing the beard up in the corners, before he levied a finger at her steadily. "But you've my curiosity. Kuronii, you say? What manner of people do they be?"

Rilla’s fingers tapped against the rim of her glass in time with his heartbeat she studied this man, turning to face him with one hand rested atop the leather strap holding her dagger to her right thigh. She laughed under her breath at his certainty when he did speak, shaking her head at herself, holding his gaze for a moment longer before looking nervously back to the entrance at a sound from outside, fingers tapping the same even rhythm all along against the glass. “I don’t know much of their customs, by dress I’d have guessed you belonged with them.” She tilted her head to his hood, her own attire intentionally nondescript. Black leggings of thick cotton disappearing into worn in black boots, her jacket slightly too large around her thin frame. “They were human warriors, mostly sword and shield or axes. Seemed like they were aiming to take back their land or something of the sort when I saw’em last.” She shrugged, her breath shaking the thin chain that held a little golden band in the hollow of her throat as she faced him. “Rilla,” she offered, holding out a cool, calloused hand in greeting. She let the silence hang expectantly, a crooked grin tugging dangerously at one corner of rose tinted lips.

Svard took the offered hand. A custom, he had learned, was common place. Still, for his good nature, the broad-shouldered smith edged faintly closer. A lean, which hunched him towards her, dropped his words under the din of the tavern's other patrons. A private exchange to which only she was privy. He had learned that in this place he was not a particularly large man. But over six feet of him, built by all manners of labor including the trade that he so readily made, had given him a hulking physique under the loose bag of his bearskin and the cotton beyond. He'd let her hand go by now. The stretch of her fingers small and soft and shapely compared to the gnarled mess of his own large mitts. "You are not the first to ask." It was with a faint chuckle then he turned, his attention sliding steadily towards Mesthak, whom returned with a hulking tankard of ale, which Svard caught and lifted quickly. "Svard the Smith, Rilla. You've good manners. Everyone around 'ere, 'as good manners." And with that he lifted the tankard, a froth soaking the whiskers of his beard, and several swallows taken before it was set back to the bar's battered edge. Frequently, his eyes shifted, as if to mark the position of all the rest of the crowd. And yet, even as they did, Rilla might get the sense she'd held his attention. His eyes sliding, rather readily, back to her own.

Rilla’s grip was firm in his warm hand, her eyes cautious as they landed on his face. She didn’t back away from him as he leaned closer, though she’d have heard him either way. Her hand returned to her lap once released, warmer than any of the rest of her. Her gaze lingered until he broke the stare in favour of the bottom of her glass as she took another drink. “At least I’m not entirely off base then.” Rilla laughed before tipping back the rest of the glass. “Another, please?” She requested, far less outwardly sociable than her companion as she fought back the tension that crawled up her spine. “I’m not sure I’d say that *everyone* has good manners around here.” Rilla corrected, looking back as Mesthak returned with another drink for her to cover up with her palm. She slid her empty glass back to him across the worn in wood with a nod of thanks. “But I appreciate the compliment. Even if it isn’t true.” She winked at him, leaning back in her seat to survey the room, gaze landing on a patron with a particularly silvery laugh who seemed to like to use it. The weight of his stare was palpable, and her with an easy smile her bright blue eyes flashed back to meet it. “So, not a Kuronii but you dress like one. Where do you belong then, Svard?”

Svard took one last consideration of the red-head, a lingering look that saw her features committed to memory. There was a certain aesthetic to this place. These people. These creatures. A strange and shifting landscape to which he'd found not several, but really one, community at large. The conflicts within it escaped him. Allegiances, rivalries, all beyond the scope and scale of his understanding. It didn't matter. Not truly. He was here to ply his trade as he always had, with his hands, night by night and day by day. The wear of it was evident in how he moved. The corded strength of the smith evident in even the most subtle of ways. "Why, Miss Rilla..." he answered then, slicing the glacial cut of his eyes onto her face. It was a piercing stare. Softened only by the easy smile beneath it. The beared Smith offering, once more, a soft chuckle. "I've only an idea of where I belong - but I've yet to find such a place. How about yourself? Where do -you- belong?"

Rilla was always just outside of this world looking in, moreso now than ever as the sounds of everyone living and breathing left her distracted and pulled a base part that had never existed as a human in other directions. The rogue was uncertain, not used to the easy confidence Svard moved with. “First of all, let’s skip the ‘miss’.” Rilla corrected, bursting into laughter despite the seeming seriousness of what he said, shoulders rolling back to shake the claws of tension before they could sink into her. She levelled her gaze with his then, ambient light flashing off the gold ring within bright blue eyes. Animalistic despite the easy curve that tugged at her lips, threatening to spread into something genuine. “If I told you, I’d probably have to kill you.” She joked after a moment, lifting her glass for a sip of whiskey and to buy herself time. “I kid,” she gestured with one hand, licking her lips. “Some of us don’t belong anywhere, we just are where we are when we’re there and that’s it.” Rilla shrugged, shifting back in her seat and crossing one leg over the other, the toe of her worn in boot pointed towards Svard. “I think if I had a place to belong, I’d want to be by the sea.” Mused the vampire who had once smelled of salt instead of snow.

Svard expressed no judgement, no displeasure. Here, amidst the tavern's noise and the ever shifting bodies nearby, he was settled contently into his seat and otherwise completely fixed on the conversation at hand. As she adjusted herself, the Smith caught the scissoring of one leg across the other, and more so levied itself on the shapes her mouth made as she spoke. The little hints of her distinct way of speaking pulling his gaze until it abruptly lifted at her words to find her own. Svard nodded easily enough. "Rynvale has served me well since I settled there. What keeps you from the sea now?"

After a few weeks running through snow and ice alone trying to find thralls so that none of her soft, human friends froze to death, this was a welcome reverie for Rilla. She pushed loose curls back from her face, only for them to tumble down out of the way, but no more tamed than ever. A losing battle that she was content to let die. “I used to live in Cenril over a decade ago while I was doing work over in Rynvale.” She explained, leaning closer instinctively to keep her voice low. “I wasn’t great at my job, but I figure one day I’ll go back and redeem myself.” She shrugged, thin hand closing around the gold ring on her necklace. “Just hasn’t felt right going back yet. Maybe one day. What area’ve you settled in? Near the harbour, or further into the city?”

Svard took note of the ring, clasped by a small feminine hand. He was about to speak when a commotion drew his attention. Patrons scattering, grumbling, as a massive dog began to prowl steadily through the crowd. Over three-foot at the shoulder, with a broad head and prominent brow, the mastiff-like creature with a short fawn coat and ebon face mask made its way towards Svard's side. It paid no mind to the going ons around it. Large paws padding against the battered floor, it moved fluidly to a place beside Svard's stool, before prompty settling in to sit beside it. Vexed for a moment, Svard looked up from the animal to the delicate features of Rilla, and answered with a muted rumble of breath. "My smithy is just east of the Broken Barrel, and then north along that side street. Not far from the docks at all."

Rilla turned the ring over between her fingers absently, twisting the chain and releasing it to hang between her collarbones. Her head raised towards the sound of panic, concern flashing over delicate features as she began to rise, balanced on the bars of her stool to get a better look at the creature that seemed set straight for them. An amused grin was levied between the dog and Svard and she shook her head, holding out the back of one hand towards the dog as an offer of greeting. “Who’s this?” She didn’t hold eye contact with him, but rather watched the Smith - his master - for permission. “I know the area well.” Rilla acknowledged with a nod. “Little rough out there sometimes, but good for business. Especially the type you’re doing. Most would settle out in Venturil or the Xalious mountains for that trade.” She straightened, downing the last of her drink easily. Her gaze did not shift from her companion. “So either you’re smart and you understand supply and demand, or you really like paying for shipping on all of your materials.”

Demeter moved inside the tavern after a day of hunting, a new fur cloak upon her shoulders, lion. Demeter took it to an enchantress who did the same as her wolf fur line cloak, illusion to hide the large charcoal wings and mute of the noise feathers made moving underneath. Tattoos filled with black, outlined in crimson spreading out over the pale golden flesh. Grey eyes looking upon the inhabitants of the establishment, before spotting Rilla and who ever she was talking too. As per-usual Demeter was adorned in leather pants, and a leather tunic, except this tunic used lion teeth for decoration. Heeled boots giving the avian an extra two inches, making her a six foot two. Slipping the hood off showing the honey colored hair to be braided along the sides, the top of the hair one large French braid. Demeter sat beside Rilla, offering a nod. In her deep Icelandic accent, she orders a drink before speaking to Rilla. “Greetings again Rilla. Good day?” Looking around Rilla she gives the stranger a nod.

It was not often that Rilla found herself talking to a stranger and actually saying something, but she was always game to try something new. Crystalline gaze remained fixed on the strange smith until the sound of the door caught her attention. Her jaw clenched as she looked away, only to find the new recruit who was, if nothing else, a good time. She nodded to the woman as she sat on the other side of her, turning to lean her back against the bar. Neither of them were familiar enough to be at her back. “Demeter,” she smiled, “good to see you again.” Nancy stopped to check her drink, and Rilla nodded for another. “Apologies for running out on you, but when Inks is hungry it’s best to keep her away from the humans.” She laughed, looking back at Nancy as she reappeared with their drinks to thank her. Her neck held her tension, tendons standing stark against porcelain skin as she fought to release her jaw into another easy smile. “I hope you and your … boyfriend?” Her head cocked to one side in question as she gauged the avian’s reaction. “Caltarok had a good rest of the evening?”

Demeter had received her drink, about to shot it back when she paused. “It is no problem really; she was needing to feed and I am sure you were going to feed too. No reason to be sorry.” Lifting her shot to her mouth, choking on the liquor as she called Caltarok her boyfriend. Wiping her mouth off as she is finishing the shot before speaking. “He isn’t my boyfriend, just a friend. After you all left, we went to bed. Separately.” Reaching into her cloak, pulling out a leather wrapped item. “I got you something for this day, just incase I found you.” When Rilla unwrapped the item, she would find a tri-colored wood handle with hearts inside the blade. “It is one of mine, phoenix ash was mixed into the metal when forged. The blade will ignite when you command it too, help keep you safe. Symbol of friendship.”

Rilla laughed at Demeter’s observation, cradling her drink in one hand. “You’re not wrong.” She acknowledged, looking over her newest maybe-friend. Snickering to herself, she shot an apologetic glance to the blonde. “Really convincing, Demeter. Went to bed alone.” She waggled her eyebrows, lifting her drink back to her lips, hiding her smile behind it’s rim. Her gaze shifted, over her shoulder to check on the other patrons once more. When she looked back Demeter was holding out something for her. She took it automatically, straightening up to lay out the blade in her lap. For a moment she looked it over, brow furrowed with in surprise. “Well, now I’m the fool who didn’t get you a present.” She turned the blade over in between her hands, balancing the tip lightly against the pad of her finger. “Thank you, I’ll use it well.” With a nod, the rogue tucked it away into her jacket, another blade weighting it down to be tried out and organized into proper place. “I guess I’m buying drinks tonight.” She chuckled, producing another coin pouch which she slid across the bar towards Nancy who was Definitely Not Listening. “Or dinner? If you’re hungry at least. Their food used to be good here, couldn’t tell you now.”

Demeter chewed on her lip, “We did though, I don’t even know how to kiss. I have never held hands with someone other then to break their fingers or wrist. Caltarok he is family to me, I guess as people say-“She thinks, “Friend zoned? There are much more eligible females that would fit him more, I am his friend and I also am the friend that beats him up.” Ordering another shot, “Twelve total, six for me and six for her.” Glancing to Rilla, shrugging, “I did not ask for one, no need to buy drinks. I can buy the drinks; you buy the food I seem too always be hungry.” Lifting her arms to flex them, “Got to eat to keep these muscles tone!” Yes Demeter just tried to make a joke.

Rilla wrinked her nose at the girl’s admission, trying to gauge her age. “In my experience a lot of men like women who can beat them up.” She pointed out with a shrug. “It’s not my thing, but so I’ve heard.” Rilla was much less intimidating than Demeter physically, and she was well aware of it. The slight redhead stood more than half a foot shorter than her, lean and lanky as her back curved to rest against the bar. “But if he’s your family, he’s your family. No need for further questions.” She waved her hand to dismiss it, glancing back to the other woman. “No worries, I’ve got it. My food budget has gone way down in the last couple of years, I’ve got the gold to spare.” She winked, reaching over to nudge Demeter’s foot with her own black boot. “Probably a good investment for me either way. I’ve nearly covered the closest parts of the wilderness to Frostmaw, it’ll be time to get a better vantage point soon enough and I’d rather not fall from heights if it’s alright with you.”

Demeter ’s brows lowered, “I wouldn’t know, never done any flirting or stuff. I train, that is what I do.” Not expecting a wink, made her reward Rilla with an exceedingly small grin spreading along pale pink lips. Demeter’s brows relaxed as she nudges Demeter’s foot with her own, returning the gesture. Next leaning over to nudge her should to Rilla’s, “I won’t let you fall; I will hold you tight I give you my word. Maybe I can figure out a way to make it fun for you? Not just work. I have only let one fly with me, and I have not seen that person since then. Guess scared of heights?” Pushing over a shot to Rilla, turning to rest her back against the bar top.

Rilla generally was amenable to most things, over the years living as someone’s wife she’d learned an easy charm that kept people at the right distance. It had made it easier to transition to more interesting ventures than giving people what they want. “Flirting is overrated anyway.” She shrugged, looking Demeter over for a moment. “And not nearly as hard as you’d make it out to be, half the battle is just learning when to smile. Everything after that is gravy.” And with that she flashed one, crooked and playful with a wildness that leeched out, reflected in the golden ring around her pupil. “What’s more difficult is finding someone you can actually talk to. Flirting is easy, but half the people you flirt with won’t have anything else to say once they’ve taken you home with them.” Her words were easy, a casual warning if anything as she downed the last of her drink once more. “Not scared of heights, not even scared of falling. It just sounds like a pain, I already broke both my arms last year, let’s not break anything else for a few more months, yeah?”

Demeter nods, “Yes, it is! Adventure and training is where it’s at!” Rilla had spoken on how to flirt, smile was a timed emotion to show. Well, Demeter was out for that. It was hard to get her to smile, exceedingly rare that she even did. The pyro blushed a gentle red when she spoke of going home with someone, that was another thing she had never done. No romance at all! Shooting one of the five left over before she looked to Rilla, “No plan for neither of us to break anything, have you ever been above the clouds?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I value the relationships I build.” Rilla insisted, shaking her head to herself as she reached behind for another shot, tipping her head back as she swallowed. There was static building in the base of her skull, warm and comforting and she looked back to the pyromancer. “No one is ever going to be the best for very long, and training will only go so far. Sooner or later everyone’s got to find a place to rest.” Did that make sense? Maybe not out loud, but in her head it did. “A time or two, yeah.” She chuckled to herself knowingly, shrugging further into her jacket. “I’m hoping we can stay a little lower, I don’t even really know what I’m looking for. I figure I’ll know it’s a sign when I see it.” She bit her lower lip, eyes fixed on the door as work threatened to kill the buzz she’d started for herself.

“The only relationships I want to build is friendships and allies. For now, I have no time for else.” Grey eyes took in Rilla, “Once I feel my training is the best I can do, maybe then I will find someone. I am overly stubborn, and I will literally need to be hit to realize I like them more then I think. But yes, it made sense. I would like a large plot of land with everything I need to survive there, no need to venture into towns I can rest maybe find some peace.” Using her wing closest to Rilla to rub briefly against her, still hidden somewhat under the cloak before tucking it back away. “We can go as high, low fast or even as slow as you like. Just let me know what pace you need from me.”

Rilla nodded her understanding, but did not meet the grey gaze that fixed onto her. Auburn curls fell into her face instead, shielding her eyes from view for an instant before her hand rose to tuck it back behind her ear. “Do what you’ve got to do, Demeter.” She agreed easily, “I don’t think I’ll ever be my best - there’s always something else to learn. If I waited until I felt like I was I’d be waiting forever.” Rilla pointed out, straightening up and fishing out another pouch of coin, wrapped up for easy payment. “That’ll cover dinner too,” she slid off the stool and onto the balls of her feet, knocking back one shot and then another. Rilla paid for it immediately, shaking her head and scrunching her face at the burning on the way down. She cursed under breathed laughter as she buried her hands into her pockets, pulling it around her. “Like I said, I’m sure we’ll know it when we see it.” With a nod and smile, Rilla took a step back from her. “Thank you again, Demeter. And I swear I’m not an alcoholic.” She laughed to herself as she helped herself out. Steady on her feet, though her head was working in overtime to keep it that way with alcohol burning through her. Where would she go? Presumably to find a quick meal and somewhere warm, but with Rilla it was always a bit of a mystery.

Demeter envied how beautiful Rilla was, and she had her own look her own passion that fueled her which made her beautiful. Demeter saw the mighty, strong admirable woman underneath her strong shell to keep people away. She could recognize those traits, Demeter kept people at bay. Except it seemed Rilla and Caltarok were the only two that she felt she could be herself with, let her wings down some. “Thank you, Rilla. Safe passage where ever you may go. I am not an alcoholic either, maybe I will learn something from you after all.” The stubborn warrior admits, watching her leave while Demeter would eat, finish her drink before heading to Xalious.