RP:Groghouse Rock

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Summary: Apparently, Gualon's grogshop is a happening place on the weekend.

Gualon Grogshop

Leoxander | Grargh was one of few proprietors who would actually be glad to see the pirate enter that establishment, even going so far as to remember he was accompanied (as usual these days) by the Mouse to catch hold of the door before it shut on her. “No fruity water tonight, a’right?” A dangerous deal he was making with Loravelle as she made her way inside. He had some blades on his person, one at a hunting size most obvious on the belt around his waist, but no heavy compound bow and quiver on his shoulders, and his jacket had been left somewhere on the other side of Lithrydel, if he cared to recall. He’d been wearing the same ‘wifebeater’ styled lucky shirt that didn’t seem so lucky with the tears and blood stains in places, and it did absolutely nothing to conceal the various ink designs gradually taking over his skin, evidence bleeding through the undershirt that had no sleeves to cover his arms.

Loravelle can't help the face she pulls at his request of no 'fruity water'. “I drink fungus beer when I'm here...” Not because she liked it, but she had to keep her tolerance for the nasty drink up for visits in the swamp with orcs. Had they eaten enough after the visit with her family down the street? The Mouse, clad in her usual green shafu and chenyi, decides to lead the way for the Wolf in one of those rare moments she felt confident enough to do so, approaching the bar to order two of those gross beers from Gragh and whatever non-fungal bar food there happened to be available. Who knew if their visit might turn into an affair like their time at the Destrier with the witch and warlock due to their proximity to the Den, but she brought money to pay for food and drink. “Hopefully the boys will be okay...” She murmurs. San Bao is probably causing a ruckus with both cubs in her family's house and the thought has her attempting to mask a grin.

Khitti was craving some seriously lowkey type of venue for a Sound of Sirens concert. So, she’d pulled out a map with the rest of the band gathered around, grabbed a newly acquired quartz pendulum, and let the crystal pick out a new place. She tilted her head as it chose Gualon, then looked to the rest of the undead that made up her band. “Well?” Gorey Taelyr shrugged and nodded, “It’s as good of a place as any, I guess.” Khitti’d smirked and nodded, “Let’s get to it then.” The group’s teleportation mage conjured up a portal for the lot of them, waiting for a signal to send over the band’s gear. The redhead arrived with her entourage of undead (all in varying degrees of undeath) and eventually found the barkeep. “I have no idea if you guys even listen to my music down here, but I’m paying you to let me play here.” To make her point, Gorey floated over and let three massive bags of gold collapse on the counter. “It’s best to let her do what she wants,” he said. Grargh blinked a few times, poked the bag, opened said bag, grabbed a gold coin out of it, and bit down on it, discovering that it was indeed gold. With a greedy look in his eye, the barkeep let out a sharp whistle at the current entertainment, “Get the hell off my stage!” A strangely wicked grin found home on Khitti’s lips as she gave a nod to Gorey, who then gave the signal to their mage friend to have the band’s equipment sent to the tavern and it was all set up on the stage.

Gorehilt check on Cinderback. The nightmare's tied outside with a feedbag labeled "COAL" in block stencil lettering. Gorehilt tops the bag off with a few fresh lumps and tops it off with a scoop of black powder, as a treat. That should mollify the creature for a while anyway. "Good horse." He steps back inside, slides through the crowd and takes a little care (only a little) not to bump or scrape anyone with his armor spikes as he passes. Plate armor is drinking attire 'round these parts, and Gorehilt is dressed in his finest. The greenskin visits the keg of fungus ale, fills himself a mug, and garnishes it with a toadstool cap.

Leoxander managed to make a face toward her back while she made her way inside, still holding the door absently for a moment. That’s about as far as his gentleman’s decorum would allow for. She could foot the bill. “Yer keepin’ that mouth to yerself, then…” If only he had such will power to uphold those words. One thing he could hold well was his liquor, so when the rogue came with intentions of catching a buzz, it was bound to be a blurry night. Low key might have been Leo’s intentions, too, but with the rogues in town, Gualon wasn’t too likely to stay that way for long. Poor Lerra. Just before he could let go and let the barrier close, he felt a shove of a shoulder or hand that had him just startled enough to hold it as the band marched in and made their way to the counter where Loravelle was working her charm. “I ain’t drinkin’ that orc piss, woman.” Just as a half orc happened to reappear. It was not so subtle to begin with, between the looks he gave each newcomer, recognizing the one in red… hair. Nine hells. That night just got even more interesting.

Quintessa || There is a chill wind in the air, uncharacteristic for the month, but it is not overpowering enough to be noticed by the average person. Many assume that the chill running up their spines is unrelated to the fell creature in the area. It was subtle enough that those who did not have any proclivities detecting magic would not even notice, but for those that did they might have noticed the hunched, cloaked figure that shuffled into the establishment, face hidden behind a crudely carved wooden mask. They find a shadowed booth to seat themselves in and carefully observe the room. A lot of chaos was taking place so they hoped they could go unnoticed, recuperating after their defeat in Cenril- that is until the wooden mask tilts in the direction of the stage and a sigh of ethereal disbelief in advance of the phrase. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Khitti was the last person this creature expected to see here.

Loravelle corrects herself for Gragh. One fungus beer, glass of water, tarragon leaves. Whiskey for the pirate. While she waits, she suddenly feels crowded at the bar by a band that she's heard talk of but never actually seen, and tenses up immediately. There were illustrated posters of The Sound of Sirens that she's seen decorating her nieces and nephew's bedroom walls, and her pale complexion somehow gets paler at the realization that the band actually is a bunch of undead. She'll keep her eyes glued to the bar's top until they walk off for the stage, but she's torn between fear and utter excitement. Spyder's bass playing was apparently something else, and she's eager to hear it. ...Not so eager about the spiders though. She turns in time to see Gorehilt make his way in and can't help letting her grey eyes wander to the tavern's piano. By now she has a mug of that horrible beer in her hands, and hides her amused smile behind its rim before taking a drink. Yup. Just as terrible, but she had something to rinse out her mouth and leaves to chew on to make her breath smell less terrible soon.

Mathollak was moonbathing on someone’s roof, nearly sleeping, when an intimate scent wafted up to him. It startles him somewhat, he didn’t expect to smell it here, and he lurches up to a sitting position, catapulting what was left of his ice cream scoop away from his cone and into the gutter. “Smells like…” he draws the air in deep through his nostrils. “Sin.” Who would do this without inviting him. In seconds, he’s dangling off the roof by his finger tips, unbuttoned button-up flapping in the wind, and missing a flip flop. Seconds later he appears at the grog shop. First he just stands at the doorway, with two flip flops on, puzzled at the amount of familiar faces, then he loudly announces himself. “HEY! The rule is, no parties in Gualon without inviting me!” Then he officially enters, and slides up to the bar. “You know what I like Grargh,” he says to him jovially. But Grargh takes his time. “GOREHILT,” he says as he grabs a spike of the half-orc’s armor and gives it a violent yet playful shake. “Where ya been, loser?”

Khitti || [1 of 2] As the band finished setting up, Khitti took the stage, olive-green eyes squinting for a moment to take in those gathered in the tavern. She spied Leoxander, of course, and she could only offer him a grin. “So, we’ve never played here before. Thought it was time to change that,” she said, pulling the magically-enhanced microphone to her lips as she spoke. The candles that lit the room went dark, leaving the room in blackness for a moment. “This is dedicated to that daughter of mine…” It was no secret she’d adopted Quintessa some time ago. But where had that girl gotten off to lately? Well, Khitti knew. The candles flared purple, shadowflames lighting the room as chimes went off, signaling the start of the song. ♫Niiiiiiightmaaaare! Now your nightmare comes to life~♫ There was another pause, the music stopping as the stage became wreathed in shadowflames. ♫Dragged ya down below! Down to the devil's show! To be his guest forever! Peace of mind is less than never!♫

Khitti || [2 of 2] The band joined in, the sound of it all menacing, chaotic, angry. ♫Hate to twist your mind, but God ain't on your side. An old acquaintance severed, burn the world your last endeavor. Flesh is burning, you can smell it in the air, cause men like you have such an easy soul to steal!♫ Sister Sinister and Gorey Taelyr assisted Khitti in her singing, their choir of banshees fading into view behind Dayv Ghoul. ♫So stand in line while they ink numbers in your head, you're now a slave until the end of time here. Nothing stops the madness, turning, haunting, yearning-- pull the trigger! You should have known, the price of evil. And it hurts to know that you belong here, yeah… Ooh, it's your frakkin' nightmare!♫

Mathollak said to Leoxander, "Orc piss? What a terrible thing to say!" He finally gets his drink and almost drains it. "Ahh still warm. No Grargh, see that guy likes dog piss. Or maybe cat piss?"

Leoxander was a general conductor of chaos but there wasn’t much of a chance of a cloaked and shady figure going unnoticed by the rogue, spared just a glance at first before keen ears caught an unintelligible murmur. Then again, his attention was somewhat divided when he caught sight of… was that a damn skeleton covered in webs? Sure as hell wasn’t mummy’s silk. Feeling some sense of nausea and concealing his expression in the poorest manner, he made his way to the bar to notice Lora’s ping pong of emotions from joy, to uncertainty and fear, and back to casual and friendly again, following the latter source to glance at – the name was announced a couple times in the crowd, a name Leo didn’t really know but it was hard not to recognize that green, tusk framed face. It all slightly clouded when he realized who was the latest arrival to the Grogshop. Khitti -and- Mathollak? Which god had he pissed off this time? In answer, the room went dark just as he glanced toward the stage at the sound of her voice, but nocturnal eyes quickly adjusted and a hand instinctively reached for Lora’s arm in a protective or possibly possessive way. And maintained it a moment longer as the music started up with the effects of the candle show. At least the sound had it’s appeal since he was ignoring his whiskey, for now. "Jus' when I think it's gonna be a good night..." Murmured in Mathollak's direction, not finishing the statement that his semi-nemesis could finish for him.

Quintessa || The Worm slumps down a bit into their seat. The last thing they needed was for Khitti to disintegrate them again. For a while it seemed hiding in plain sight had worked, that is until the orcish barmaid cleared her throat to get their attention. “You gonna order somethin’?” The wooden mask looks up to her with its rudimentary, forlorn face. “Meat.” Is the only thing the Worm utters in their phantom voice before the woman moves away back to behind the bar. Meanwhile the Worm had to plan their exit. Perhaps it could slip out unnoticed or wait for the show to be over. Or better yet- perhaps this meeting was fortuitous. Khitti had something that belonged to them anyhow.

Gorehilt takes a taste. There is a significant lack of quality control in the fungus beer brewing process, and not all kegs are created equal. This particular one is immaculate. That fungussy funk do be hittin' just JUST right. Still standing in front of the keg, he guzzles his first without stopping for a breath, then thrusts the empty mug under the tap for a second. Feeling that his brains have been adequately lubricated, now, he turns to begin meandering, chumming, schmoozing, and/or carousing. He spots Loravelle across the bar, his face lights up, and he raises his mug to offer a remote cheers, only to slop a little down his arm as he's roughly shaken. His green face snaps over to Mathollak, and Gorehilt smiles a broad, tusky grin. "Mathollak." Gorehilt gives him a fraternal thump on the shoulder. "Been out losing. Duh!" He drinks, but over the edge of the heady glass, his eyes are laughing. "Hm! Real riff raff crowd tonight. Did you bribe the bouncers to let you in or what?"

Loravelle is glad she finished off her beer by the time the room is shrouded in darkness, because that sudden change in their lighting situation was enough to have the mouse on edge yet again. When Leo captures her arm, she drops the mug, but in all the noise the sound of it clattering to the floor is lost. Unable to believe that she's witnessing these horrifying-looking musicians playing their song is exciting, but still...they're frightening. So she'll just remain rooted on the bar stool she's managed to climb into, and with her free hand reach for the handful of tarragon leaves Gragh set on a plate for her to chew on to get rid of fungus breath before she rinses her mouth out with the glass of water she ordered too. Somewhere in the dark nearby at that bar, there was a bottle of whiskey and probably an empty glass waiting for him that she ordered. “I never thought I'd see them,” she murmurs to Leo. While it isn't the style of music she played at all, it's great. The sound of a familiar name has her perk up a little, even though she already saw the greenskin walk in. Gorehilt was a funny orc. Her head lowers a little toward Leo while pointing him out. “That's Gorehilt. He thinks I can lift up pianos and wrestle...”

Loravelle timidly waves at Gorehilt, then pretends to flex one of her skinny arms. Blame the fungus beer and Leo by her side giving her some courage to be a little silly in public.

Mathollak didn’t know Khitti was in a band? “What!” He wants to talk first, but he can’t interrupt. Well he could, but not so early into the night, it was disrespectful. But he can go refill his mug at the keg, next to Gorehilt, “Yeah they funkin cleaned me right out too. This yours?” Then he obliges himself at the tap, casually imposing, “But wait! Come meet some of my friends I don’t think they saw me yet.” He’d lead them over to where Leoxander and Loravelle were, taking a meandering path through the crowd, exclaiming “Hey! Ho! It’s you!” At random times to random people. “So this miserable lookin’ poser is Leo, right and this lady who’s leg he’s just peed on is…?” And he was looking at Loravelle.

Mathollak said, "Wait...Do youse guys already know each other? NO WAY"

Khitti felt something… weird. Something… familiar. No it wasn’t Leo. No it wasn’t Mathollak. It was something much much worse. Something… gross. Khitti’s stomach lurched a bit, but she bit it back as she continued singing. ♫Can't wake up in sweat cause it ain't over yet! Still dancing with your demons--Victim of your own creation! Beyond the will to fight, where all that's wrong is right, where hate don't need a reason--Loathing self-assassination!♫ Oh gods, what was it? Who was out there in that darkness that was triggering such a trauma response in her entire body? Gorey could sense something was off with Khitti, so he nudged Sister Sinister, and motioned to their lead singer with his eyes. Sinister frowned somewhat, but continued on. Khitti picked the wrong song apparently, because something was making her feel like she -was- in a damned nightmare. It wasn’t Tessa… was it? No, this wasn’t her. Not like in the Mage’s Tower. ♫You've been lied to, just to r*pe you of your sight and now they have the nerve to tell you how to feel! So sedated as they medicate your brain, and while you slowly go insane they tell ya "Given with the best intentions! Help you with your complications!"♫ The redhead’s vision went blurry, forcing her to hang onto the microphone stand. ♫You should have known! The price of evil! And it hurts to know that you belong here, yeah! No one to call! Everybody to fear! Your tragic fate is looking so clear, yeah! Ooh, it's your frakkin' nightmare!♫

Loravelle may have a slightly thicker skin and feel a little less skittish but it isn't enough for her to speak up and defend herself or Leo about being peed on. What she does have is knowledge of the local orc tribes, which may prove just a little bit beneficial here. That's Mathollak, who she'd seen in passing but had never actually spoken to. His father, however... She produces a shy grin at the thought of him and the Droghan Tribe, her favorite of the orcs in the swamp. “You're Papa Thrug's boy.” Papa Thrug did mention that his son wasn't particularly orcish.... She doesn't have a full glass of anything to raise a toast to Mathollak in greeting, but she does see the totem around his neck. A holy man of sorts...if one could call a devotee of Delisha's holy. “Praise Delisha,” she murmurs. Hopefully she's audible over the band's music.

Leoxander eventually diverted his focus to the stage as Lora made mention of the band. That -was- Meri’s sister, wasn’t it? Not that they had any good standing but they’d killed some slavers together a season or so ago, and it was hard to not see red(heads) through the eyes of the pirate. Particularly one he had to watch for his own sake (and bounty). It wasn’t long before Mathollak’s ‘introduction’ has him offering a half arsed salute to the one Loravelle informed him of as ‘Gorehilt’, apt name for one with that set of grin. He seemed accustomed to the dog cliches from the blood knight though it had provoked a sucker punch from the lycan in the past. “Looks like the nose straightened back up…” He commented to the smeller-of-sin, finally willing to reach for the bottle and forgo the glass, just his hearing was assaulted in a good way by the heavy riffs and percussion filling the Grogshop’s common room. This might have been his nightmare to the letter in the past, but for some reason the rogue was in a decent mood. Likely at the fault of the fungus swilling former maid servant at his side, who he’d finally relaxed enough to let go of. Though he was still in that mindset of ‘Mine’.

Quintessa || The Worm leers at Khitti from the shadows of their booth, taking note of her strained attempts to keep pushing through. Was she perhaps reacting to something? Could she sense the Worm’s presence? The static aura of necromancy that clung to the Worm would indeed be remisnet of Quintessa- yet oddly different. Distinctly different in fact. It is at this moment that the Worm decides they will show themselves to the redhead, perhaps a whispered word when she finishes her set. While all eyes were upon the stage it was not the most opportune time to do this, so they waited, bits of chicken disappearing into the mass of darkness behind their mask every once in a while.

Mathollak instinctively takes a step back and drags his non-beer-hand to his chest, and the golden knife-heart symbol that hangs on a chain. “...Yes? Haha that’s true. How did you know that?” There were few things that truly unnerve him, but as a superstitious man, strange looking women who knew things before he said them could be counted among them.

Mathollak said to Leoxander, "Haha! My nose almost broke your hand. That was tactical. Tactical."

Loravelle may not be able to read the rogue's mind, but with crowds she had a tendency to scoot closer to anyone she recognized to either shrink behind for safety or just be close enough to dive behind them. Again, for safety. Since she's his, the book keeper inches her bar stool with her perched upon it closer to Leo, eyes narrowing a little at his comment about Mathollak's nose. They fought before? Did she miss that fight in the tournament a year ago? Feeling foolish for leaping to that conclusion first, because there's no way Leo fought in tournaments only, her grey eyes curiously and warily leap from one man to the other, and then to Gorehilt as if she's trying to sense whether or not a brawl might happen. ...Some of the other patrons gathered have shoved chairs and tables aside for some sort of arm-flailing pit before the stage while the Sirens played, and even with her legs crossed, Lora's foot taps along with the beat. It's wonderful to hear, and she focuses more on the bassist's strings more than anything else. With her arm freed, as well, she motions for more drinks -not fungus ale, unless Gorehilt and Math wanted more, and no 'fruity water'. Wine did sound nice, though... She didn't get all of the fungus taste out of her mouth even with her rinse trick. Mathollak's reaction has her shocked. Is he backing away...? From her? Of all people. “I know Papa Thrug. He told my sisters and I about you.” Didn't he have an axe or an organ? She squints at him. “You're the Something of Love, right?”

Leoxander only responded with a raise of brows as if to say ‘That so?’ before he took a swig from the bottle of a whiskey that contained more than a pint. Meant for sharing, though it didn’t look as though he had any plans on that. It only took one hand to hold that vessel, and the other arm curled shamelessly over Lora’s shoulders as she and the blood knight had their deity moment. He risks taking his stare from the molten eyes of Mathollak and adjusting to Gorehilt’s appearance all over again to glance at the cloaked and masked figure across the room. Whatever scent he was catching from that side was either mulled by candles and undeath, undercooked chicken or the ‘fungussy’ (trademark Gorehilt, trademark.) stench coming off their mugs. That comment of ‘Something of Love’ directed toward Mathollak is what captures a confused look back toward Lora’.

Khitti ||The night of the Cenril ritual to cure the zombies of their affliction slowly oozed to the forefront of Khitti’s mind as she finished up the song. Khitt was there too with it within their shared mind, trying to talk her through it. Trying to remind her that it was alright. But it wasn’t alright. Her stomach was like the sea on a stormy night, her mind was fixed on that night--her skin felt like it was crawling! It was supposed to be a good night. She just wanted to let off some steam after everything, to try to get rid of all those emotions that had been piling up over the last few weeks. The madness of it all was creeping up on her again and she laughed hysterically into the mic. Gorey was quick to mess with the enchantment of the microphone, distorting Khitti’s voice as she laughed to help it fit the song. ♫Fight! (fight!) Not to fail! (fail!) Not to fall! (fall!) Or you'll end up like the others! Die! (die!) Die again! (die!) Drenched in sin! (sin!) With no respect for another! Down! (down!) Feel the fire! (fire!) Feel the hate! (hate!) Your pain is what we desire! Lost! (lost!) Hit the wall! (wall!) Watch you crawl! (crawl!) Such a replaceable liar!♫ Khitti could barely breathe. But she was almost done. ♫And I know you hear their voices, calling from above. And I know they may seem real, these signals of love! But our life's made up of choices! Some without appeal! They took for granted your soul! And it's ours now to steal!♫ The last few verses were left to sink into the crowd and the music faded out. Khitti was able to escape the stage for a moment, letting Gorey take over on singing while she recovered. “Whiskey. Now. The bottle. Give it.” Grargh could barely hand over the bottle before Khitti was snatching it away, uncorking it, and taking a larger drink than someone in her state should drink.

Mathollak shrugged as if what Loravelle was saying completely put him at ease. “Oh! Yeah of course they uh…just forgot to mention you. I guess. Well actually I haven’t been back there in a while.” Oh of course! He was famous. “Haha! Yes The Axe of Love!” He strikes a pose and there is definitely a reddish light from the ground that briefly glows in a circle under his feet. “That’s my stage name, anyway. Here I’m just Mattie.” He’d attempt to be normal and engage in conversation as normal, but every once in a while he glances her way just to make sure she’s still where he thought she was. Not hexing him or anything right? But then even though he knows he shouldn’t, because this is how they get you, he’s tempted. He has to ask. “But…how is he anyway? Papa Thrug. Just, last time I saw him he was…sick. And I meant to come and see him, but I just kept getting so busy!”

Leoxander maintained some composure not to facepalm as he dosed himself with whiskey, instead, his blue eyed stare catching some candlelight to flicker gold sometimes, at certain angles. Like the angle in which he caught Khitti at the bar. “Didn’t know your hobbies ventured from destroyin’-” Someone’s glass or the drummer’s symbol rang to catch off the curse word at the end. “Not bad.” He raised his bottle to her in the only genuine moment she might ever see from the new Captain of that refurbished galleon. “That one seems to be a fan.” He pointed out the masked figure if they were still present within the room, maybe to keep her ire misdirected off him.

Loravelle ;; “That's okay. I'm not really worth mentioning.” Been a while since she's made a dig at herself like that, but Lora doesn't dwell on it. Instead she's pleased to hear that she was sort of correct! The Axe of Love. Feeling Leo's arm around her shoulders has her hand instinctively lifting up to find his and lace their fingers. Mathollak's pose has her almost laugh, but that magic beneath his feet causes a flinch. But it's a goddess's magic, right? If he's one of Delisha's.... This is going to throw her thoughts into an unpleasant, stomach-turning circle if she dwells on it for too long. She'll do the mental gymnastics to believe that magic at his feet is from Delisha Herself, and leave it at that. “I'm Lora, Just Mattie. And Papa Thrug is...” Well, she hasn't seen him in a while honestly. Lora has found herself visiting the swamp less and less lately and even spending more time outside of Gualon as a whole lately, much to her surprise. Never in her decade living in Lithrydel did she ever think she'd leave her family's home down the street, let alone the entire region itself for such long periods of time. “He seemed ill when I last saw him, but it was a long time ago. You should go see him. He must miss his son.” She couldn't imagine being apart from her father for a long period of time if he were ill.

Quintessa || Almost as if in the blink of an eye the hunched figure at the table is no longer sitting there and is instead lingering uncomfortably close to Khitti. As Grargh walks away, leaving the singer with her drink, the Worm that Walks drifts even closer, silent as death. “Excuse me,” they say in their strange, reverberating voice that should not be physically possible to produce, “I’ve been a fan ever since I saw you in Cenril- Can I have your autograph?” The misshapen, wooden face stares lifelessly at her, waiting for her to respond.

Leoxander was watching the interaction while keeping half an ear attuned to the conversation between Loravelle and the Blood Knight. Much as he couldn’t trust the lead singer of the Sound of Sirens, there was still something that encouraged him to make sure she was semi-safe in that standing room where many a single half orc had been lost so far to the wooden floor pit. This didn’t stop him from taking another healthy (or unhealthy) swig from his bottle in the meantime, arm still around the petite bard’s shoulders and fingers laced with hers.

Khitti side-eyed Leoxander as she downed a bit more whiskey. “There is more to me than just that,” she said flatly, almost offended. The Worm started to speak to her, so she turned around and just stared at that lifeless mask. The sickness in her stomach returned, her anxiety spiked, her heart racing to signify that she wasn’t feeling all that great at the moment. The voice… ‘I’ll give Quintessa your regards.’ She knew that voice. “You…” She could barely speak, her voice a whisper. “Why are you here? Have you not done enough?” One hand started to reach for the other--no, it started to reach for the seashell bracelet on the other wrist. Khitt was trying to take over, trying to help her put an end to this so he could deal with it.

Quintessa || The Worm that Walks regards Khitti calmly, slowly lifting what was meant to serve as its hand but in reality was that squirming mass of worms she was no doubt already imagining. “There will be a chance for us to fight again but for now… My mask. My real one. I need it back.” There was a strange sense of urgency in the tone of the creature. “And then I will leave you.”

Leoxander started to lean off the bar as he openly watched the cloaked figure manifest a poor excuse for a hand. He may not be in favor of the red haired superstar but he wasn’t about to stand by and watch if something was looming on her attempt to do something Leo assumed she might love, by the way her voice had carried over that enchanted device. His whiskey forfeit and his arm withdrawn from Lora, he hesitated a moment more before he would be so careless as to step in the middle of something that wasn’t his business. Still, they had his attention, Mallothak and Lorevelle left to their conversation while he stood by.

Khitti || Again? They’d have to fight again? She couldn’t. She wouldn’t! Ugh. There were even tears in her eyes now as the Worm got closer. Somewhere in their shared mind Khitt could see what was going on, how the Worm strangely meant no hard. For now. He forced Khitti’s hand to grab ahold of the bracelet and soon the shapeshifting took over. A bit of shimmery magic rippled across Khitti’s form and where she had been standing there now was a male that looked a hell of a lot like her, though taller. Except instead of her usual attire, Khitt was in his own: a black slim fit suit with a purple button up shirt beneath, black boots, his long hair pulled back into a braid, and his favorite accessory, a pair of enchanted pince-nez sunglasses. “Sorry. She’s been in a bit of a mess thanks to your co-worker.” He meant Quintessa, of course. “Yeah, we’ve got your mask.” He put his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle, motioning to the band’s mage that got them there to come to Khitt’s side for a second. “Gimme our stuff,” he said, taking the satchel from the mage. From within, he pulled out the Worm’s cold-iron mask and handed it over. “You don’t have to leave. She’s just… It’s complicated, okay? I’m sure you get it.” Much like Khitti had, Khitt now side-eyed Leoxander, but instead of Khitti’s usual scowl, he gave the wolf a half-assed salute instead.

Loravelle wondered what had Leo's attention, noticing a little late that his arm withdrew from her shoulders. She looks his way, Khitti- no, that's someone entirely different...And enough to have the woman thinking some sort of sinister magic is afoot and not something she should bother looking at, lest she grow frightened. Trusting that the wolf's presence meant safety, she looks away, considers getting some whiskey of her own to settle growing nerves.

Quintessa || The mass of worms recoils for a moment as Khitti becomes Khitt, but once they knew it was not a threatening gesture they relax once more. With the cold-iron mask back in its possession it trades it out with the wooden one, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. It takes a moment after this for the Worm to readjust, caught off-guard by this act of kindness. They would remember this. “Thank you.” The visible worms retreat from view as they step away. “No, I should leave. Not that I don’t enjoy the music but it is best I left anyway… Is there anything you’d like to say to my co-worker? That’s where I’m headed next. Passing a simple message is the least I can offer.”

Leoxander witnessed the change. Not altogether thrown off for the sight of it, but he’d never witnessed it before. And the wolf with a sixth sense could feel those emotions now that he and the beast had come to an agreement on a shared existence. No weapons are drawn but he suddenly stands up from a casual stance to move down the bar toward the lead singer for the band that night, just as worms recoil. “Why don’t you explain why you’re here before you head out?” He came to stand behind the cloaked figure before they might make their way to the door.

Khitti leaned over and picked up the wooden mask that had been dropped, then eyed the Worm. “Tell her… she has a lot of explaining to do and it better happen soon before -I- find her.” It was a threat. A promise. If Quintessa did not find her mother soon, Khitt was going to come looking for her and things would be far, far worse for her. Much like Khitti, he didn’t take betrayal well either and the amount of turmoil it had sent Khitti into made Khitt pricklier than a cactus pear. As if to make his point, Khitt took a swig of what was left of his female counterpart’s alcohol, gave the Worm a nod, walked over to the closest orc, and punched him in the face. It was his trophy-winning right hook--Mathollak would know it. It was time for chaos, apparently, because a bar brawl had finally broken out.

Quintessa || The Worm form themselves tensing a bit at Leoxander’s words, but they remain calm. It seemed a simple enough question. “Indeed she does. I’ll let her know.” The creature responds to Khitt before the masked face turns to address the lycan. “Here specifically? I came from Cenril- I certainly didn’t come for you, if that’s what you’re asking. It's a coincidence. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

Leoxander met the masked profile of the worm’s persona. “It satisfies my understanding that it’s time you made your way on out.” The lycan responded, overlooking that Mathollak’s nose had apparently been broken by two in the room, when it came to Khitt joining the crowd. “Let’s not make this another show.” To be added onto the one the band had already performed.

Quintessa || If the Worm that Walks could smirk, it would, but it was not a Worm that Smiles so it offers a gentle chuckle instead. “Now that I have your permission…” And with that sarcastic remark the strange creature exits, taking with it the fell air that followed it around, lightening the atmosphere significantly.

Lanara steps into the establishment with Tiber close behind, as he had been a gentleman and held the door open so she could enter first. She grabs his hand and affords the room a sweeping glance, as though hoping to see some familiar faces, or to spot an empty table. The place is jumping tonight and although they rarely frequent Gualon, they heard of some fungus beer that is all the rage and so they want a taste. Clad in a little black dress and heels, Lana leads Tiber over to a vacant table where they take a seat. “Oh. Leo’s here!” The blonde lycan is the first to catch her eye and he seems to be in a heated discussion with another. It’s not surprising. Pirates fight all the time, right? “Babe. Why don’t we get a cheese platter, too? I don’t like drinking on an empty stomach.”

Loravelle blinks and finds herself witnessing the beginnings of a brawl. That red-headed man looked angry... And those orcs sure look angry too. Perhaps she should climb out of that seat of hers and hide behind the bar for safety, unless Leo had other plans...

Tiber walks behind the Kelvarian before sitting down to where she gestures. Not for long, however, as she mentions a cheese platter. And… Leoxander. Amber eyes shift over to Leoxander, but there is not that jealous stare, but only an annoyed one. Less jealousy, it appeared to be. He remains silent on the matter. “No problem, babe,” he leans in for a quick kiss to the cheek before moving to take the initiative to order the Kelvarian food. He has the idea of just wanting to drink, but that platter would help for later, anyway. Just in case he gets a little… out of sorts.

Leoxander was a gentleman, once. Barely. But as he looked to follow the masked figure’s exit he spotted a more worthy specimen behind his wife. Had everyone Leo secretly sought to brawl been drawn to that grogshop like a worker bee to the hive? It had been too long from the Enchantment retreat for all this. His name announced in the witches singsong voice caused his eyes to roll a bit but this was the usual behavior when it wasn’t a gift giving moment without a lion cub in his lap. “Yeah, babe. I could use a bite of cheese, too.” Oh, he was just wanting to rile someone up at that point, why not the fellow lycan?

Loravelle perks up at the sight of Lanara. With the Axe of Love gone and Gorehilt gone and violence nearby, why not try to evade being hit or worse by spending time with the witch? With her poorer hearing, she missed both Lanara and Tiber's words and only heard Leo's, since he happened to be closer to her, and she raises a brow. “I didn't ask for cheese...”

Lanara kisses Tiber’s cheek and playfully swats him on his rear as he approaches the bar to place their order. She overhears Leo’s comment and her eyes widen, because he’s never called her ‘babe’ before and it seems that he’s goading her husband into a brawl! The familiar and friendly smile fades from her face and Lana casts an icy glare at Leo, “Don’t.” She had spent -hours- a few nights prior trying to deescalate Tiber’s jealousy and here is Leo ramping it up! She impatiently waits for Tiber to return with their order and hopes that he ignores the pirate. She waves to Lora and mouths, ‘what is going on?’ as she’s utterly clueless.

Tiber looked over his shoulder at Leoxander at the mock of words from the lycan. The Catalian grinds his teeth. Give the lycan a break, he just got here. The man turns around after ordering the stupid platter before looking at the pirate. Eyes cast towards Lanara. “No, it’s fine, Lanara. He clearly has a problem. Like I said -before-.” Previous fights about the pirate before him. The bartender slides Tiber’s brew forward, but the man does not touch it. “What the hell is your problem, exactly?” Tiber then turns around to face the other lycan. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he begins to mock, “Or should I say… -cap’n-?” Brows furrow. The lean linguist was just as easily riled as the man before him. And previously… there was unsettled beef between the two.

Khitti || The redheaded male, amongst all the chaos he’d started, took off his suit jacket and threw it at the stage where the Sirens were still, pulled at the buttons near his collar to loosen it and his black tie before returning to the fight. He doesn’t seem to care how bruised and bloodied up he got. But there’s whispers as the fight kept going. Something about Khitt being the bare-knuckle boxing champion in Craughmoyle. How he’d gone up against orcs from Gualon, even an ogre from Rynvale. There was even someone that pulled out a newspaper with the latest match results on it, a sketch drawing of Khitt Herzegler himself front and center beneath the word ‘Winner!’ in bold.

Loravelle waves at Lanara and mouths, 'brawl', while jabbing a thumb at Khitt while side-eyeing the witch's husband and her fiance. This...might be bad? Might be good....Though she wouldn't admit it, Lora did enjoy watching fights to a degree, skittish as she was. Just not this close. It's unlikely that she can diffuse the situation, but she tries leaning forward a little from her hiding place beside Leo and tries greeting Tiber, even if their last encounter was a little troublesome with her skittish misunderstanding. "H-hello, Tiber..."

Leoxander was actually referring to the ‘hubby’ as babe, not Lora or Lana. He was nearly forced to grin at the latter’s reply. See? The nickname was sticking like some of the witch’s gum on a shoe. Though Tiber’s retort drew lycan eyes to the other were. “Cap’n works jus’ fine.” He returned to his bottle of whiskey at the bar, took a drink, and so boldly offered it to the other blonde.

Lanara toys with her pentacle pendant nervously when Tiber seems to lose his cool and further provoke the pirate. “He’s drunk… Let it go.” Are either of the males even listening to her at this point?! Their feud has been a long time coming, ever since Tiber spanked Lora at the ball and because Leo has blonde hair and happens to be a lycan. It doesn’t make sense to the witch and she’s wondering if she should have ordered popcorn instead of cheese, because it looks like hell is about to break loose. Loravelle’s comment about a brawl has Lana’s gaze shifting to Khitt and some orcs, before it levels back on the shy girl. As she speaks to Tiber in an innocent tone, Lana blatantly stares at Leo to see his reaction. The pirate is going to blow up over that greeting. Her intuition is screaming at her to get her husband and get out of Gualon, because it’s going to get bloody. “Hey, Baby! Let’s just take it to go… This music is giving me a headache.” Leo is now offering Tiber a drink from his bottle and she narrows her eyes on the men, willing them both to behave.

Tiber did not even notice Loravelle at first as he is blinded by the blonde, roguish pirate with the mimicking tongue. Eyes flick to the red-head, the pirate, and then back to the mousy woman. “Hi, Loravelle.” He does not glance at the girl who greets him even if his tone is better towards her than the man before him. Tiber’s mind was muddled at this moment. This targeting moment. The fact that Leoxander was calling -him- ‘babe’ made him grind his teeth, but he finally made a stoic face at the man drunk at the counter. The bold offering of a drink from the pirate is not in the cards as he does not trust the pirate so easily, so Tiber slides his bottle of brew over and takes a swig of his own drink. “What do you mean, Lana? We just got here. ‘Cap’n’ here is being a -charming- host. Sit. Enjoy your drink. We aren’t leaving. I want to enjoy -mine-. And company.” Despite how unnerving it was. Tiber bites his tongue as he knows the conversation he had with his wife, but if Leoxander tries anything, Tiberius would not hold back. Could they be civil? Was that in the cards?

Loravelle is looking at Lanara for guidance here. Maybe they could turn this into something less tense and more friendly...? Would plying both wolf men with alcohol help or more food? Nobody can be angry on a full stomach, right? “We haven't had dinner yet,” she blurts, abruptly. “W-why don't we um....have dinner? I'll buy.” Please don't glare at her, anybody. She's trying. “What do you like, Lana?” Lora hollers over the music. Her hands are trembling with this sudden assertive behavior, but gods dammit she's going to try being...whatever this is. A mediator? She really didn't know.

Leoxander wasn’t actually drunk, yet. That was the kicker in the situation, as the bottle was barely drained. And hearing his reply to the Swan Queen only made that moment all the more grand to the pirate. “You heard the man.” He added onto his statement to his wife, the grin in his wild eyes, which now inherited a faint ring of gold on the outside edge like a misconstrued halo. Gods above and below, he was overdue for a ‘ruckus’. And apparently the worm nor the redhead had it out to play any part in that, so far. A glance was given to the stage where the band’s set up remained. “You play?” He was still talking to Tiberius, even if they weren’t sharing a drink just yet.

Lanara is a bit taken aback at Tiber’s words because it’s rare for the male to not grant her every wish. The bravado he’s showing to Leo will either earn him some points or end in disaster. She’s hopeful that things won’t escalate as they all run in the same group and need to get along. Perhaps a fight is -necessary- for both men to heal, but Lana sides with Lora, as neither woman wishes to see it. The usually quiet woman pipes up about how she hasn’t had dinner yet and Lana takes the bait, “I’m -still- waiting on my cheese platter!” A forced laugh follows, before she tucks her hair behind her slightly tapered ears and nods, “A bite to eat would be great!” It’s sort of like breaking bread, right? Everyone should get along? Lana’s about to make her way over to Lora, but then Leo questions Tiber about his place in the band, and so she waits. Are they going to have a battle of the bands? A rap battle?

Tiber keeps an eager gaze on Leoxander throughout the chaos of an introduction. Loravelle and Lanara still talk about food, but Tiber still has not even felt his drink settle. “Bartender, get the girls a round of shots,” did Loravelle even drink? He was not sure, but he would order them something. “Something fruity.” Not to cliche them, but he can tell their intent is to keep the peace. “Bring me a bottle of whiskey as well.” Even if he had the brew. Mixing. Great, Tiber. When Leoxander asks if Tiberius plays throws a puzzled expression on his gaze. He looks around the tavern. The sound blares through the establishment. “I, uh, play guitar and piano. Have my own gig, actually,” Tiber says this cautiously. Once a bottle of his own whisky is slid over, he throws back the bottle in a swig. There is a quirk of curiosity even if there is silent... tension. “You play?”

Leoxander motions to the setup Khitti formed on the stage. They might still be playing, but without their lead singer it was just a soundtrack for the background that might be dismissed - even if he wasn’t going toward the bassist in webs. “Why don’t we see where that leads?” They both had a whiskey bottle in hand, now, and while the ladies worried over food and proper peace, he beckoned Tiberius with a tilt of his head and bearded jaw. It was long past any spider's retreat that he’d eye the area and take a position on the stool, looking toward a quiver of carved wood drum sticks and selecting two for either hand, awaiting to see what the other lycan would do.

Loravelle hears 'cheese platter' and decides to bug Gragh about getting one for the witch so she can scurry over and join her. ...And they're getting fruity drinks? Bless. This sounds better than a brawl breaking out feet away from her. She'll slide off of her bar stool and beeline for Lanara, but not before blurting out her own musical talents. “I sing and play pipa, guitar, and bass,” but she'll leave it there. Lana's her target now, finding that the beautiful witch will be safer company if their partners decide to throw fists at each other instead of...talk about music or perhaps play? Whenever the witch's cheese platter arrives, she'll be sitting down near her, flashing a shy smile. “It's good to see you again.” The sight of Leo holding drumsticks captures her attention immediately. She adored when he played, so her eyes remain glued on him.

Lanara doesn’t want to do shots and she’s not thrilled that Tiber has ordered himself an entire bottle of whiskey. He had given up his drunken lifestyle when she returned to the lands and she hopes he’s not picking up now to prove some macho point. Leo gets up and approaches the stage and it seems that her husband will shortly follow. A jam session? The witch cannot believe this is happening! She walks the short distance to go and sits beside Lora, “I didn’t see -this- happening tonight!” The tray of shots is placed before them and she shrugs, smiling at her friend, “Why not?”

Tiber feels like he put on focus at Leoxander’s gesture. There is something that settles… not uneasily, but familiar. That gesture. What was weary, at one point, came something of… discovery. He does not glance back at Lanara, as this was an unusual moment. The men both stand up and move towards the stage where Khitt left. As Leoxander eyed the wooden drums, the blonde Catalian moved towards the guitar. “Yeah, I’ll take this,” he pressed against one of the band members. He steps forward before looking back towards Leoxander. The band grows quiet as they do not know the strangers well. And Tiber is familiar with the stage in order to just start anyway. Normally, he was hidden under his own alias… of his deceased brother–Augustus. Tiber starts plucking the strings of the guitar in a quick rhythm. A quick, acoustic quick beat. “Come to decide that the things that I tried were in my life just to get high on,” the lyrics continue as he begins in that beat. “Hey oh, listen what I say, oh, I got your hey oh. Now listen what I say, oh,” the ‘oh’ drags out in this moment into those lower chords. Obviously this is a cover, but Tiber matches the speed of the song when he begins and drags out those low tenor chords.

Leoxander settled before the set up kit, spider-free, hopefully. A tap and ting to test the snare and high-hat, but otherwise he let Tiberius lead the melody. That first riff, well, he had to credit to it’s musicality, because it was easy to follow after a few beats in with some added percussion. He didn’t know the song at first, but he leveled into the chorus and beat enough to add some ‘Hey oh’ in his own lower voice, not a singing voice as the Swan King had. But there they were, not punching each other but jamming together in no time, Leo getting into the moment to fortify it with some fancy drumstick work like he might handle a throwing knife that wasn’t meant for stabbing someone.

Loravelle agrees with Lanara. This is entirely unexpected. She didn't know if Leo sang, but she's surprised to see that Tiber does. “He's really good,” she says to the witch. Her eyes stay on the pirate and she's unable to mask her grin. It's so wonderful watching him play, and finds herself pleasantly surprised yet again at the sound of Leo's voice accompanying Tiber's. What in the world...? Glancing at Lanara, Lora's mouth falls open with shock. “Look at them go!”

Lanara throws back her first shot and rests the glass upon the table with a soft ‘thud’ before she lifts a hand and motions to the two lycans on stage, “Tiber has a band, they do a few gigs a month at the local bars.” He also teaches String Theory at the Bardic University. “I never thought we would see -this- moment!” Lana smiles at Lora in wonder as their men light up the stage and the music starts, “It’s wonderful that you’re so talented… I teach various styles of dance, but I’m not too great with instruments.” She’s a bit surprised to see how well Leo plays the drums and when he gets fancy with the sticks she claps, “He’s very good, Lora! I’m so happy they are getting along. I see lots of double dates in our future.” The compliment about Tiber has her cheeks turning red, “I know. I’m so lucky!” Giggling, she slides the platter nearer to Lora so that she can have more cheese. Lana’s eyes remain glued on Tiber’s handsome face for the duration of the song and once it’s complete, she gives both men a standing ovation. “Whoo! That was awesome!”

Tiber looks back as he sings the chorus. The song goes on in that soft, rock rhythm. Something he had not expected, and amber eyes linger on the pirate behind him who is mildly older than the Catlian. The man is swept up in the music. Easy to keep the rhythm and Tiberius is not sure, internally, how to feel. The man behind him, following course, despite their aggression and bickering, reminds him of… someone a long time ago. Someone he used to enjoy music with. Not forced. Just knowing despite disagreements. Augustus. Tiberius is lost in singing to the crowd, “Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder where it's so white as snow,” it drags out as Tiber plays that chorus in that steady, repetitive strum, “Privately divided by a world so undecided, and there's nowhere to go,” he drags. Eyes strum down at his fingers. His hand that was injured was able to grind against the strings and frets. The song continues in that soft, continuous beat. The tavern flooding a world of calm against what was hardened by the music before. Tiberius, although singing throughout the bar, eventually comes to the ending of the song, “I said hey oh yeah, oh yeah. Tell my love now! Hey, yeah, yeah, oh yeah~” and it drags until the song ends with those chords. He is swift, soft, and his face drops at the end. Odd way to express the aggression in the room, but a smart-one, nevertheless.

Loravelle might be hungry, but she's too busy watching Leo with her head propped up in her hands while she leans forward, elbows resting on the table. There aren't hearts in her eyes, but there might as well be. Lanara's mention of dancing has her head turning away from watching the rogue. “Really?! I dance too!” Lanara had to be better though, based on that first Swan lesson. Lana carried herself with so much more confidence and grace that Lora lacked, and she admired the witch for that. Perhaps one day she'll get to that level. She's on her feet with the witch as the song concludes, clapping enthusiastically. Leaning in to reply to Lana during her applause, she murmurs, “Yes, you're so lucky! Me too.” Lucky for Leo, in her case, who she gazes fondly at.

Leoxander found a newfound respect for Tiberius in that session, mostly stucking to upholding the musician’s beat. Proof that the pirate could do more than throw a punch for reconciliation. He still found the lower bass vocals to back up his newfound… friend? It was hard to say or title at that point, but some ground had been reached in that Grogshop moment. The song would end with his last chorus and Leo’s timber on the bronze metal stretched into symbols and highhat before he set the sticks down on the snare. He looked over at the other blonde with just a significant look that things might be better between the two, from there. “Nicely played.”

Tiber :: Lanara was ogling her husband, but found herself finding Loravelle again. “This is good, don’t you think?” Hopefully, the witch thought. As Loravelle mentioned dancing, the Kelvarian beamed. “We should dance together sometime!” The witch grins as their two men, for now, were getting along.. In song, at least. “I do feel lucky! I’m glad you feel that, too. I didn’t know Leoxander was so talented, as well! I think they might be good for each other! We hope,” Lanara, however, moves now to the cheese platter in her view. Tiberius, on the other hand, waits for the crowd to die in order to move to Leoxander. “Hey,” Tiberius’ anguish was gone. Lanara had told about Leoxander and Loravelle, and this was the solidifying solitude, for now. “I’m sorry,” Tiber immediately says. Something not like Tiber, unless he was apologizing to Lanara, even if Leoxander had been the one grasping at the couple when they walked in. “I just… I am sorry I was an ass. I’m sorry about what happened at the ball. It was an accident,” he looked at Loravelle in the distance–the groping. It was a drunken accident. “I just.. Lanara has been through so much, y’know? I don’t want her hurt again, I apologize… how I get.” The blonde with the trimmed face is blunt and true. “I lost her once, I don’t want it to happen again…,” he is low in tone at the thought of Lanara’s death. His eyes are the ground as he is not as open with others about what happened the night he had to revive her. “I, uh, your drums were phenomenal.”

Loravelle had never danced with anybody her sisters and that pirate behind the drum kit on the stage over there, but she looks excited at the prospect of dancing with Lanara. “Yes please!” She crosses her fingers that the witch is right about the two wolves on stage are getting along now. What were they talking about? She can't hear what Tiber is saying, but it looks like it might be something serious, potentially about her based on Tiber's look. Or perhaps Lanara? That made much more sense. “He looks so fondly at you,” she whispers to the witch, covering her mouth as she leans in so her lips can't be read. “It's really sweet!”

Leoxander sat on the stool a moment longer for Tiber to approach, and he managed a smirk to the fellow alpha. “It’s all good, I think. I’ve screwed Lanara in the past but not like you think. She deserves someone like you.” The husband he would never be, but that made his gaze drift to Loravelle. “I know she’s been through some (censored pirate word) an’ I don’t wish her through that again.” He stood up to Tiberius’ height or in the range of, and offered his right hand to the man. “I think we can do well enough to appease our wives for now. Dig?” The compliment was set aside, but Leo seemed to relax in posture for the remark.

Tiber listens to Leoxander, and the vulgar word does not even describe how the linguist feels about Lanara’s past. Did it exist? The words? Tiber was a words man, but actions was what he had to become for the little feisty witch. Lanara is in giddy mode with Loravelle, but she is also watching the men before them. Watching for something to happen between them. Tiberius speaks, however, through the anticipation, “I…” Tiber does not how to respond to the male before him. Another inhale and exhale before Leoxander offers his hand. After a long pause, Tiber closes the gap between them with his own hand. “Wives,” he glances towards Loravelle. Whether it was ‘to be’ or ‘now’ kept his brain turning. “I think we have a road ahead. It’s best to keep our heads… I dig.” Tiber is secure in this moment. No slapping face, unless it called for it. He then turns to Lanara, “As much as we want to stay, we should probably as someone is more hangry than just a cheese platter.”

Leoxander might have been reading minds again. Something he tended to do with Loravelle, intended or not. But he pat the side of the man’s likely shaven face with his grin. “Good. You’ll be of use yet.” Oh there it went, the riling again. But in a friendly manner. Before Tiber might reel back for a strike, Leo left the stage - literally. He was headed for his fiance. “I’ll see you around, Tibs.”

Loravelle ;; It looked to her like both men were leaving their conversation on good terms. Was that right? She didn't know their history as well as Lanara did, but this has to be a good thing. It looks like a good thing, at least. Lora waves goodbye to Tiber and hugs Lana before they depart, and figures she and Leo will be heading out shortly after once he approaches. “Home or the Den?” she asks. What she really means is, privacy and uncomfortable cots or her family's chaos and a comfy bed?

Tiber understood the difference, even if he was tempered so easily. He grabs hold of Lana, himself. "Later, Leo," he tries to stay cool. And at this point, he is leading Lanara up after giving the guitar back to the band. "Let's go. We'll catch up soon." Lanara would look to Loravelle before escaping for a hug before Tiber captured her again. The married couple waves... okay, one waves, Tiber nods, and then they are off to their own.. back to Sage at the estate they went.