RP:Doesn't Happen Often

Summary: The Red comes to pay her new friend a visit and to kick her in the arse, but Bre is already up… Or still up from the last time The Red saw the avian and she doesn't look too pretty.

DeVere College of Bardic Arts

Brynhild had meandered through much of Schezerade throughout the night and had grown tired of it's filthy state! Rubble and trash were everywhere, nothing was organized, and she was seriously OCD about filth. Who would want to live here? As far as Brynhild can determine, her fellow Dragons might be embarrassed to save a city of rubble. Instead Brennia would find a fiery red Dragon, albeit in human disguise, banging very loudly on her front door. No, it wouldn't stop until she answered it. In fact if she took long enough, Brynhild might accidentally break the door down. You see, Brynhild knows Brennia was moping over coming home the other day, for many reasons. So the Avians new friend was here to get her fired up, and get to the cleanup of her allies city. No time to sit back and do nothing. Regardless, how did she find Brennia's home? The town's people. "Brennia," Brynhild calls out. Good God's, the sky is -just- starting to get light. The sun hasn't even made itself visible yet and here Brynhild was without her armor or weapons, in a t-shirt and overalls, hair pulled back and a pair of workers gloves in her hand. Two pairs to be exact. What might stump Brennia is just how well fit Brynhild's clothes are, and the sudden appearance of curves that the armor she wore, covered.

The red dragon would find that the door is left open for there is nothing of value left inside and it had always been left open. Within, Brynhild will find a small group of avian refugees that had been using the abandoned college as a safe haven, but maybe a few people smile with hope now that Brennia is back. It’s easy to spot Thedez before the avian because he’s always got to be in his naga form. He sure as heck spots Brynhild with those moonstone eyes, but says nothing about it while loading bits of trash into a burlap sack labeled ‘TRASH’. Brennia is sort of near him doing the same with her hair up in a messy bun, wearing the same loose sweater, leggings and boots. Dark circles forming under her eyes and it’s obvious that the bard has been trying to clean up all night as half lidded teal hues spot the dragon. “Merry meet miss Brynhild,” a soft genuine smile spreads across her lips. The bard spots the work gloves clutched in the warrior’s hand, “have you come to help?” The grin on the mocha toned woman grows. Diamond shaped shelves etched into marble walls no longer hold scrolls of sheet music and a large emptiness can be sensed about the center-most point of the oval shaped hall. The beautiful dome shaped ceiling depicts alignments of the stars with glowing stones and the second floor balustrade looks over the main hall from the walkway above which leads to classrooms. What was once beautiful and filled with love and learning, is now desolate.

Brynhild quirks an eyebrow at Brennia's disheveled appearance and those dark spots under her eyes. "Yes," She wants to shake her head in response, but instead throws on those gloves without a word and meanders for a moment - taking in the sight of this destroyed space. "When this is over, I need your help with Schezerade." Lord's what could Brynhild need Brennia's help for? What was this dragon thinking? The overall wearing battle maiden gets to work, collecting trash and rubble as if the giant piles in her arms were nothing. "Is there a dump somewhere nearby?" Brynhild steps out the front door once again and sets the pile of garbage down. How would she transport this? Cerulean eyes move about the neighborhood until she spots something of interest. Her frame moves quickly to collect giant tarps that lay in a scrap pile. She'd use these like grocery bags, except in dragon form. Once the tarp is laid out, she begins to pile the trash on top of it.

Brennia doesn’t care what she looks like. When she really tries, she can be a stone cold fox, but now is not the time nor the place. The bard lets out a slow raspy chuckle, “anything for you miss Brynhild. I planned on getting to the city, but I had hoped that once I make this place a home for my students again, that they would come back and possibly help out as well.” She gently clears her throat in hopes it will help her voice to no avail. “I like your overalls,” sure there is dust and bits of garbage clinging to her own sweater and she must look like a vagrant, but she still smells like anyone’s favorite scent. Same goes for the other avians helping out. “For now, we have been placing everything just beyond the bridge of glass,” which is what Brynhild had walked over in order to pound on the college doors at such an ungodly hour. With the help of the red dragon, everyone seemed to gain a second wind and the cleanup began to go much faster than expected. In spite of what she’s been through the past couple years, having to leave her home only to return to it in shambles, giving her all to one thing and having it ripped from her, being on the run because a secret society has a hit on the avian… the bard still smiles. Until she reaches down to pick up some charred rubble and feels something slender and hard…. it’s a piece of an ivory key which used to belong to a grand piano that sat in the center of this very hall, Brennia’s grand piano. This was the bard’s instrument of choice and she’s always had the greatest affinity for it. Feeling her heart sink into her shoes and her tired eyes sting with tears, she smiles graciously to the small group, “if you’ll excuse me.” Clutching the few broken pieces to her chest and quickly walking towards the back of the hall where the kitchens are. By now the tears silently slipped down when she finds a corner counter to set the ivory keys down on, letting her hair down to relieve the headache that’s been building and clutching the edge of the marble counter-top while she leans on it, her head bowing down in sorrow…. The bard tries taking slow deep breaths in attempts to center herself. Sure, there will be another piano, but this is just the straw the broke the camel’s back.

In the midst of cleaning, Brynhild stops to look over her own appearance. Sure the overalls weren't something she normally wore which is perfect for her current task. With a single sideways glance to her Avian friend, she settles back into working. "Thanks," she responds. Though admittedly she'd never wear them again. She's far to used to moving around in armor or her scales, so this is a rather new experience. She does take notice of Brennia staring hard at that busted up piano key. Memories perhaps. Not much unlike her own. Bits and pieces of the old Empire lay etched in ruins of old. Evidence of her old kingdom from eons ago. Suddenly the cleaning didn't matter so much. She understood what was going on, at least to some degree. The bossy blonde soon follows Brennia to her chosen place of solitude, lightly tapping a single digit on her shoulder to get her attention. They weren't what you call best friends or even friends really. What with only a couple of meetings, you couldn't blame that thought. Though this would probably change. When Brennia turns to look at Brynhild she would see an empathetic expression in her cerulean gaze, much like any mortal. What's different however, is that Brynhild was even attempting to show compassion - both arms spread wide in an attempt to console the bard with a drawn out, wordless hug.

Brennia sniffles and turns, looking up at Brynhild through the tears welled up on the rim of her tired eyes while fully expecting some tough love, but not this. The small gesture means so much to Brennia in this vulnerable moment and she follows the instinct to hug the stranger. The avian slips easily into the dragon’s embrace and her wings envelope both of them as her face rests on the taller woman’s shoulder. The silence is comfortable and the hug is indeed drawn out as silent tears slip down Brennia’s cheeks, but with their forms pressed together, Brynhild could probably feel that the bard is quite slender under the over-sized clothes she wears…. Eventually their hug gently breaks and Brennia wipes her cheeks on her sleeves while sniffling again. A soft embarrassed chuckle comes from her, “I’m sorry, Brynhild. It’s silly, really… I know that there will be another piano. I know some students may come back to their home or even some new and I know that one day it will all be okay again, but it just feels like a long-shot at this very moment,” her wings twitch a little and fold tightly to her slender frame before she picks up the broken keys and tosses them in the trash, but then she pulls a kerchief from a hidden satchel hooked around the base of her wings and blows her nose because she seriously ugly cries. Snotting and all.

Brynhild, though a dragon she is, understood quite well that Brennia just needed a minute. Hell, when Brynhild lost her love, she and the red dragons went on a crazy final assault. Those dwarves never even saw such a bold attack coming. The point is she had something to occupy her mind. Brennia however, is literally walking through the empty husk of her past life, having every memory slap her in the face. The least she could do is offer her a hug. Even though it's against Brynhild's 'flirt-with-everything' nature, she does not spend time focusing on the physical nature of their momentary embrace. Instead, once Brennia has finished hugging Brynhild and cleaning up her appearance, she hits the avian with a doozy. "Do you happen to have an extra towel." Brynhild points to her now snotty shoulder. Brennia definitely ugly cried there. Brynhild has a joking smirk stretches over her features and a raised mocking, but teasing eyebrow. Once she cleans up the evidence, Brynhild looks back to Brennia. There's a million things she could say about the situation. What she could be doing. What she should be doing. How her fellow Avians need her, but she doesn't. She would save that scolding tone for someone else. "You ready to get back to it?"

Brennia helps clean Brynhild up with an unused kerchief while softly chuckling again, she’s even blushing a little. “Yeah, I snot when I cry. Fair warning? It doesn’t happen often,” it actually rarely happened when she would let anyone see her so raw. “I’ve just not been able to sleep and it’s starting to wear on me I think,” even when she does… it isn’t a pleasant slumber. Brennia takes a deep breath and her wings sort of follow suit with a rise and fall, “I think we should move onto the rest of Schezerade for now. The castle is cleaned up just enough,” her emotions could also use a break from constantly being battered within the walls of the once college. “I think the other avians, whether they hated me or not, need to see that I’m not dead and I’m here to help in any way I can,” there is a strength to her words and as the bard speaks, others may feel their intent. If Brynhild allows, she might feel a rush of confidence in her spirit. With a nod, she starts to walk out when Thedez slithered in, Brennia paused and they looked at each other for a moment. It wasn’t a tense moment, it was more awkward than anything. They’ve never been close and would even bust each other’s balls all the time, but now… even though they’ve been through something so obscene together - it just hasn’t been the same. “I’m, um,” he awkwardly starts, “going to hit the hot springs next door.” Luckily the magically heated pool was the one thing Kahran’s army couldn’t destroy for it was one of those fancy self cleaning ones. Brennia only nodded and pressed on.

Brynhild let's the force of another smile crack the edges of her lips at Brennia's earlier words. It doesn't happen often, she said. Doesn't happen often. Why are these words so familiar? She can suddenly hear them on repeat - a deep rumbling voice like rocks being rolled around in a bucket. Her mind suddenly flashes back to a time from eons ago. Brynhild's visage changes from that happy portrait to one of horror. Maldryxiin. She remembers him from out of nowhere. Experiences the visual of losing him yet again within her minds eye. The dwarven king who had slain him said the same thing. Killing a dragon doesn't happen often. But the victorious smile upon his visage spoke volumes of the joy he felt. What's happening? Brynhild visibly shakes her head and forces is back to the task at hand, nearly muttering the Avians name under her breath. Brennia. Brennia. Brennia. It was an attempt that pulled her mind back under heel. Is she starting to lose it? When shes able to refocus , the dragoness agrees - even with her mind still muddled. "It would your people song good," her tone of voice is suddenly non-committal. Which is odd because this is the first time she's behaved this way. " I will take that giant pile to the dump." The pile on top of the tarp she had made. "Then I must return to Dyraxdiin... Something isn't right." Brynhild waves her arm out as if motioning everyone to stand clear. With one deep breath she closes her eyes and let's loose her spelled transformation. In an instant red scales emerge, horns just out from her massive Beck. Leather wings spread wide and her tail flops about wildly, as if it had been contained in shell to small for it. Golden saurian eyes gaze at the group momentarily. Thick clawed hands snatch up the tarp and debris, giving them all one last chance to glance at her majestic yet terrifying form. Without further words she takes off and drops the pike where it belongs. Next her wings beat wildly, and the she takes off with a roar and is soon gone from sight. What just happened to Brynhild?

Brennia practically feels the change in her guest and she stops short before getting back to the nitty gritty. Her brow knits in concern and her hand reached out to gently place around the taller woman’s arm, “is everything okay?” She asked quietly so no one can hear, but the dragon quickly brushes the bard off and goes about her business. Although Brennia feels a bit dejected and confused, she is in awe of the dragon’s true form, but fear from the red is the last thing the avian feels in this moment. The word, “magnanimous…” slips through her lips just as Brynhild picks up the tarp to take it away from the city....