RP:Happy New Year
Summary: Raven lights a little fire under Niall to seek someone out in the Merchant’s Guild.
Frostmaw Tavern
It’s difficult to imagine stepping foot inside this old and storied tavern without drawing immediate attention to its centerpiece: a massive fireplace dug directly into the earth, dominating the view from every angle. Its roaring flames have never been extinguished, fed constantly not only by large logs but by scraps of leftovers for its keeper, the fire wyrmling Aodhan. The tavern’s stone foundation, jagged along the walls but sturdy enough to withstand beatings from drunken brawlers, is lined with heartwood and animal skins to keep the fireplace’s welcome heat from escaping. Frost Giant lasses move skillfully among the crowds to serve ale and warm meals, occasionally stopping to regale a newcomer with the stories behind the many trophies hung upon the walls: sabercat fangs, mounted mammoth heads, aged weapons, dented shields, war banners, and a dragon skull hanging central from the ceiling, horns and jaws wrapped in blue chains. Patrons frequent the tavern from a wide host of races, here on trade or even residence. At night, there is dance and music and cheer -- and all sorts of physical contest. Stairs leading to the upper rooms can be spotted in the southwest corner, their steps covered in plush furs to suggest something softer and cozier can be found above. Drargon is the barkeep here, a gruff old war hero with plenty of tales. He’ll speak freely about his beloved battle axe or any of his scars, but for the one: whatever it was that blinded his left eye, he’s not telling.
Just outside the Frostmaw Tavern this night sits a familiar carriage and a team of avian secret service dressed in all black suits come filing out of it to patrol the area and tavern before allowing Corvo and Raven to exit the normal seeming carriage. This contraption is something a bit different and new to hollow, while the outside looked like a four person carriage drawn forward by a group of flying horses, the inside was enchanted to be more like a ‘tour bus’ or a luxury train compartment. It was snowing, as usual, and cold while Corvo quickly makes a break for the tavern door, “come on Raven! Best not linger out here!” Raven didn’t even respond which has come a common theme lately and only rolled her eyes at the man scrambling to get inside. Onyx wings folded around her and keeping her safe from the chill of the wind, save for a plain teal scarf pulled about her nose and mouth. Booted footsteps bring her to a dark corner which was fresh with an untouched blanket of snow. She was in wonder and amazement even if her etched expression doesn’t change and she pulled free a hand from a leather glove to reach out and touch the fluffy stuff…. Wow, that’s colder than she remembered on that Yule Ball night. Okay, but it’s - like, weird feeling and pliable. Snowflakes glisten in contrast to her dark hair, on her glasses and wings while she can’t seem to take her hands or eyes off the snow…. Even she would admit this is a little childish.
Niall is lingering. He's been standing around outside in cold long enough that snow has dampened his hair, clung to his beard, layered over his broad wool covered shoulders. His nose is red and numb, his hands were getting there but were covered smartly in well-used gloves. He's used seeing to his old Percheron for as long as he'd been able, taking the time to stable him up, brush him down, tip the stable boy extra coin for fresh hay and an apple. He'd led a particularly disinterested and annoyed Queenie around and around to do her business and huff at him because of the cold. He tosses a stick he'd picked up and it lands with a muted sound in the snow. Queenie blinks at Niall, her long suffering sigh a puffy cloud of white in the cold air, but she doesn't move. Just as he's ready to throw the towel, wait for Raven inside the gods damned tavern like a rational human, the old mastiff's drooping ears prick. He follows her suddenly alert eyes to the approach of the avian and her impressive crew. He frowns as Corvo flies out of the carriage and leaves Raven without so much as helping her with her door. That man was lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut and worth less than a boat with no bottom, in Niall's eyes. The human stalks across the snow covered yard, big hands pushing at damp curling hair, and clears his throat as Raven slips off her glove. "Rae, if you stand outside all night sticking your hands in the snow your pretty little nose is gonna turn pitch black and fall right off your face." Queenie would have reached the woman long before him, barking and wagging her whole body with excitement.
Raven heard the mastiff trotting toward her and this caught enough of her attention to let the small pile of snow fall to the ground. Her hand still warm from being in her glove had reached out to give Queenie attention after she carelessly leaned down in the snow before the pup to revive doggie kisses to her cheek. A muffled raspy giggle escaping her before she gently pulled the scarf free of her lips, “hello yer majesty.” As usual she reaches between her wings for doggie treats, “I had a feeling I would need these today.” Niall approaches and even though she couldn’t stop thinking about the mistletoe mishap she was able to keep her usual level expression and half smirk for the human, “that wouldn't be such a bad thing, might keep those only interested in vanity away… bonjour, Niall.” Her accent slightly thicker in people’s names and she stands up now with a glance to the tavern door when someone walks out it, revealing the rough crowd within. “You weren’t planning on taking Queenie in -there- were you? There’s supposed to be another brawl,” teal hues set down on Queenie enjoying her treat and her tail nearly causing her whole body to wag with it. “She’s staying in the coach,” holding out another treat for Queenie and making kissy noises for her to follow the avian to the carriage, maybe she softly brushed passed Niall totally by accident - granting him that favorite smell of his and the warmth of their wing. Pulling open the door and motioning for Niall to follow so he knows his girl will be taken care of, warm, and safe, but his attention may be stolen by the magic and luxury of the compartment. It was the size of a train cabin, a seating area with a small bar/kitchen, the back houses 12 berth compartments complete with their own firefly sconce lights and a feather mattress… It’s cozy and warm inside. Her wings relax in here to reveal she was wearing some sort of sapphire colored cocktail sweater-dress, it was simple, cute and classy. She leads Queenie to rest on one of the lower berth compartments and she seemed content with her second treat in her mouth on a warm soft bed. A soft smirk on Raven’s lips as she took a small moment to watch how the dog just entirely relaxed happily on the bed, this was the life of a Queen, but then she’s looking at Niall and slowly she forces her expression to return to its usual colorless expression, “ready to go into the tavern? The mages will be putting on some illusion show for the countdown to midnight, people say it’s supposed to be fun,” she made her way over to the door again.
Niall gave Raven his usual crooked, winkling the corners of his eyes, smile. "What would hold up your glasses then?" He drawls teasingly. He watches her give Queenie a treat and his heart smiles. How did she always know when she was going to need them? "Well," He stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "I thought about leaving her and it didn't seem right," His smile falters for a moment. "The coach?" He turns, looks through the softly falling snow to eye the thing in question. "Are you sure? It's, uh. If she has an accident or..." But Raven is moving off, brushing past him. When he smells chocolate and peppermint he doesn't know why. Queenie was following Raven happily, energetic and wagging her tail with glee. Traitor, he's thinking when he rejoins the moment and starts jogging a little past them to open the door for her. Niall's face was a window to his soul in most cases and it would be no different now, as he opened the door to the coach and realized the inside was even more impressive than the outside. "Clever," He says, following who he affectionately refers to in his inner monologue as 'the ladies' in. He whistles. "You really travel in style, don't you?" He fights the urge to whistle again looking at her. He pulls his eyes away from her, with herculean effort, so that they can travel around the impressive space... Only they land on the opened sketch book he'd given her on Yule. A grin spreads across his scarred lips. He walks toward it, picks it up and finds a sketch of him and his Queenie. "This is excellent," He says, a laugh in his voice. He wiggles his brows at Raven and holds the book up. "Thinking about me were you?" If she moves to take the pad from him, he'd only hold it higher... Just a breath out of her reach. "You should let me keep this one," He'd say, smiling. "And the next one you could give me would be one of you," Queenie has made herself comfortable. Niall has stolen this new picture for himself, to add with the one she'd given him of just Queenie, and he moves to follow her. He'd reach his long arm around her to open and hold the door again. It was his way, after all. "Mmm, sounds like it. I've never seen an illusion show," He admits as they cross the snowy pathway to the tavern again.
Raven’s ears darkened a shade of pink when he found her sketch to which she half assed trying to get it back, but not overly so - she had to keep this ‘careless’ image up. “Well, I drew the puppy first, but she looked so vulnerable and lonely,” she explained and then he’s asking one of her. “You mean steal,” she corrects, she had suspected he took the other sketch of Queenie as well, “and I don’t think that would turn out the way you are hoping,” lest he forget this isn’t her own body, if she would sketch herself - truly, it wouldn’t look like Brennia. She seemed to freeze when he reached around her to push open the door for her, his chest close to the edge of those dark wings and to keep them from reaching toward the human she pulls them around herself like a cloak to brave the cold, “thank you.” Once inside she opens those wings again and folds them close because it’s a bit crowded. She usually has a sort of silk scarf or sash to drape over the gap of her wings - old habits die hard, but once she takes off her gloves and tucks then away she slips the scarf he gifted her off and uses that as her ‘clipped wing’ symbolism. It’s an odd and old custom that she wouldn’t mind explaining if asked, but the fact she used her new scarf was something else and it felt like something else. While her gaze spanned the large tavern for a couple of open seats she doesn’t notice a group of rowdy drunk men ogling her and making objectifying comments, she probably doesn’t even care though. The mages have what we would perceive as a digital clock counting down to midnight and a large ball suspended from the ceiling dropping lower and lower with the time, it was impressive and marvelous. All that gets from Raven is that half smirk though, but she found a couple of open seats and she thoughtlessly grabbed Niall gently by the hand to maneuver them through the crowd, quickly, before the seats at the bar are taken! Her hand would feel soft and warm while her digits are long, slender and nimble to easily fold around the palm of his hand. Once they reach the seats she realized what she just did and slipped her hand from his, those wings shift for just a hiccup of a second causing the scarf to move an inch, “oh, apologizes.” Teal eyes glance to the barkeep who probably also owns the tavern and she sort of nods towards him in a gesture that’s like ‘talk to him about what we were talking about on Yule.’
Niall adopts an innocent look. "Steal?" He replies with his tone feigning confusion. "I'm pretty sure I heard you tell me something like," He clears his throat and tries to pitch his voice high and butchers her accent while he's at it. "..'Niall, you're so handsome and I want you to have this forever!' Or something like that." He's laughing at his own joke as he tucks his newest stolen picture in his pocket. He can't help watching her wings as they walk after brushing them. Every time he thinks he's become used to them they strike him again as exotic and beautiful. "Hm, I'm not hoping for anything but another picture from you so I'm sure it will," Maybe he would be expecting a picture of Bre, the charming woman he'd met only once in a tavern, but he would probably be a little more moved seeing a true image of Raven. He knew Rae a little better than he did Brennia. They slip into the crowded tavern and he watches her re-situate her scarf. He grins because it's the one he'd gotten her and makes a mental note to ask her about this little thing he's noticed her do more than once. He's shaking out of his own coat, opening his mouth to offer to take Raven's when the group of drunken men loudly interject with inappropriate comments. Niall was as good humored and mild as the next joe who strolled through the door but his ma had raised him with better manners than to scream obscenely at unsuspecting women. In fact, in his particular corner of the world talking to a woman like that, even if you knew her, was considered an invitation to an arse kicking. Because of his unusual height, the man is forever slouching and making himself seem smaller by way of habit. Now, he draws himself straight and breaks away from Rae. His long legs cover the ground between him and the group of belligerent drunks quickly. Their jeering and laughter dies. He claps one of the men on the back of the neck hard, smiling in his easy way. Another one of them stands, his round cheeks red with drink and fury. Niall says something, the man standing is pulled back into his chair by one of his friends. He walks back to Raven, hopefully before she'd even had much time to notice his absence, and she takes his hand. They both ignore the scowls of the drunken men. "Nothing to apologize for," he drawls distractedly, pulling her chair out for her. He would take her coat and gloves, place them atop his own on a chair before taking one beside her. "Maybe," He answers, even though she'd never actually said anything. A line creases between his brows, a flash of insecurity for a man who is not often unsure. "I'll get us drinks. Water or...?"
Raven, surely, half smirked in amusement when he mimicked her, but what the hell? She would never let anyone get away with this back home… Was she losing touch? Of course when he broke away she let him, maybe he was talking with some friends, but what would she know about that? It’s been so long since she’s had any and that was on purpose - it was necessary. Just when he pulls her chair out for her, takes her jacket and sits next to her with that kind smile to which match his eyes. Now she felt insecure because she usually forgoes noticing such things about anyone really, only taking stock in what they say, what they do. Actions speak louder than words, but she suddenly felt foolish sitting there in a cocktail style sweater dress and the scarf he gifted her over her wings. She must remember what she’s been through, how she got here. “Yes there is, just grabbing your hand and leading you around. It was out of turn,” then he’s seeming unsure, himself with a ‘maybe’ and then asking what she would like to drink. Now is her chance to give him a little confidence boost, “you are the artisan in that area. I believe you know enough about me, I will let you decide what my drink is on this New Year’s Eve.” One of her long legs crosses over the other, toward her friend and once their drinks come, whatever that may be, she glances to the guys he was talking to before, “old friends?” In such a dim light the hues of navy blues and forest greens don’t stick out as much within the dark shade of her wings, of which are placed on each side of the barstools they sit upon. She would lean in slightly like she’s sharing something clever, “not sure if friends are supposed to glare like that though, but I wouldn’t know.” She rights herself to her own area at the bar counter and decides the push the issue just a tad when she asks the barkeep, “excuse me? Do you happen to have a menu of your specially crafted ales?” Drargon quirks a brow, “a what?” A slight glare at her wings, ah, the ritzy avian type… Of course, but she seems important so he doesn’t make any snide comments just yet, “cannot say that I do.” Teal eyes travel to Niall’s kind ones in hopes he would like to take over from there.
Niall was the friendly sort, sure. If he could ever pull Raven away from her entourage of muscle and responsibility, she might see that he was the kind of man who never met a stranger. He and his brothers had been known from their younger years for stirring up trouble. In more recent and tamer years for being honest, hard working, Sven fearing men. The Coin Caravans were booming in Kelay and Sage. Recently he'd met an elvish woman on a trapping run and he was working on securing a steady trade line there too. Things were looking good. But no, these men weren't friendly. Raven's accented voice brings him back to the loud room. "Darlin, you can lead me just about anywhere," He says, tone teasing as he winks. The moment of hesitation passes for him, with her help. He's smiling at her again, brushing the back of his scarred knuckles on her shoulder in a little, thoughtless gesture of thanks. "Alright, back in two shakes," It doesn't take him long to weave through the crowd, he was all legs and arms. He flags the bartender, puts in the order and weaves back smiling. Casually eyeing the group of drunks who still haven't stopped the mix of hateful eye narrowing and brazen ogling. He slips onto his stool and shakes his head at Raven. "Not even if they paid me," His tone is light, bothered. Underneath his beard his jaw clenches. It releases when Raven leans over to whisper in his ear. "No, they aren't." He agrees, taking a moment to appraise her anew. It must be strange for her. Being in someone else's body, someone else's life. How would she make friends? He couldn't imagine Bre's old friends would feel very good about a stranger hopping in the saddle. Not that it was Raven's fault, or that there had been any other real choice. He didn't know Bre very well, but maybe this was something she would have wanted. From what he'd learned of the politics and what he'd managed to gleam when he stopped by local newsstands, the political activist image Brennia had seemed to cultivate suggested Raven carrying on the good fight was every bit what she would have wanted. A man arrives with their drinks. Niall has selected a local draft from himself and wine for Rae. He feels hopeful about it. The look Drargon gives her has him frowning, however slight. He clears his throat. "She's asking because I'm looking to get in the buisness and I was curious, how do you think offering a more diverse spirits menu would fair here in Frostmaw?" Drargon seems unimpressed. "What's the point of that? Look around," He waves a hand. "No one cares what they are drinking. They are here to be drunk." Before Niall can offer a rebuttal, the man moves on.
Raven makes herself skip over the whole ‘darlin’ comment because she was having a tough enough time being conflicted over every moment he called her Rae. It’s just some silly name… Right? Her wine is perfect as she takes in a small sip of it to try it with a soft appreciated hum. Then he’s looking at her for what felt like a long while and she could tell he was turning over something in his mind, “yes?” That inquiry would be put on hold for just a moment when the bartender returns, she watched him glance at Niall’s hands before going to move on. Raven looked as if she was listening for something from the bartender moving away while Teal eyes look down at his hands. She sets her drink down, gently moves his drink to be set down and took his hands as if looking for something, and no! Not looking for a wedding ring? This was probably the most she’s ever physically contactacted Niall ever and he would find her hands are soft, warm and her fingers seem nimble - just like a pianist. Eventually those teal eyes travel up to Niall’s and Raven quickly finds out that’s risky so she looks away while she gets up off her barstool in order to hunt that bartender down. Some drunken brute walking by bumps into Raven though, knocking her back into Niall and the guy is apologetic, but at this her ears darken because she's embarrassed - or was it because she was knocked into a human so… solid. Raven pulls herself back to her feet and pushes some of her midnight hair behind her long pointed ear before she said softly, “excuse me.” She smooths her sweater dress down and makes her way to the other side of the bar where she was having a conversation with the guy. It’s unclear what is said but one could tell she was really giving he guy a piece of her mind, her head tilting from one side to the other while her hand was gesturing at him. The bartender seems unmoved, shrugs and moves on. Raven hates losing and when she eventually returns to Niall to take her seat once more, “he said he’d been instructed to only do business with outsiders that have the Merchants Guild Signet Ring to which he’s then prompted to ask of your Unrestricted Trade Charters.” She takes another small sip from her drink, “which you do not have.” She watch for his expression and would hate to see him crestfallen over some dumb ring, but deeper conflict happens because when does she usually care about being the bearer of bad news!? Furthermore - what exactly did she even say to that bartender, she doesn’t remember, she sort of blacked out, but the man was giving her this sort of cowardly side eyed glance every now and then... What is happening to her?
Niall smiles easily when she catches him contemplating her, not bothering to pretend he wasn't or that he was even a little ashamed. "Your scarf, the way you wear it. There is a story I'd reckon. You should tell me sometime." The business with the bartender, or lack thereof, was enough to make him frown. He didn't notice the man checking his hands and was confused when Raven sat his beer aside and took them up in her own. He laughed then, looking down at them. His hands were big, calloused and scarred, tanned from work and still light in her own smaller, delicate fingers. And they were soft, he couldn't help but notice. He noticed too much of her, maybe. "Am I missing something?" He drawls, confused but willing to play along. "Always happy to hold a beautiful woman's hand but...?" Raven looks up then and for a second the sound of the bar falls off. He's confused when she stands, more so when she's pushed back into him. Even as he catches her and stands simultaneously, he's noticing how slight and delicate she feels. It was a little disconcerting when it was coupled with her 'Give no shite, take no shite' attitude. His hands move to hold her shoulders, he treats touching her wings like he would spun glass, and is giving the drunken man a look. It's not unfriendly, exactly, just firm and obvious that he's expecting Raven get every bit of the apology she deserved. She ends up slipping out from between the two men, Niall watches her cross to the bartender while nodding to the drunken man. He'd recognized him from the caravan, 'And up here? In the north? Are The Coins branching out?' They have a conversation about it. Niall tells him he's hopeful, shakes his hand and sends him on his way with promises to keep an eye out for him back home. Yes, he could see about straight trading some furs for honey. He does all of this with most of his focus tuned into the pretty avian across the bar. What was she up too anyway? When she returns, the big guy who Niall has learned owns a farm near the edge of the Sage area and keeps bees is lumbering away. Niall scoops up his beer and drains it waiting for her to sit again. He lowers the bottle and frowns at her, his hand. He sits. "Merchants Guild..." He drawls, tone confused but not overly distraught. A line forms between his brow as he suddenly becomes contemplative again. He eyes the empty beer as he turns it in his hand and Raven consoles him. "Alright, I'll do it then." He slaps the bottle down and grins at her. "I'll join the guild, get what I need. I've maybe found some land for the brew and the Caravan is doing well. We need a better hub for her anyway." His moment of dismay has vanished quickly, replaced with hopeful determination and drive. This was as much Niall's way as his manners. If he wanted something enough, he'd work until he had it. He'd work until they were selling a Coin Brothers brew in every tavern across Lithrydel. "You know, I'd feel better if I had a second eye though. Maybe I could spirit you away from your world for a while and show you around mine?"
Raven watched him in his turn of expressions and secretly admired how he turns disappointment into determination… Admired? What heck!? She forces herself to stare back into her wine as she felt like downing it, but knows she shouldn’t, “your question before. An avians wings are their crown and glory, but represent entirely too much in my opinion. Someone touching them is impossibly intimate, someone grabbing at them is very painful. To give someone a feather means… Love,” she shifted in her seat slightly, “depending on who it is, if someone takes one it means to either court or intent to harm.” What does this have to do with a silly scarf over the gap of them? “So, a lot of times an avians emotions will be portrayed through them, like the eyes they are the window to the soul. My master back home who trained me on how to hone my bardic power was rather old, I’d place them around two thousand? It’s an old custom that means an avian who does this has dominance over their emotions and they will never express themselves through their wings. It’s called ailes coupées,” her native tongue beautifully came out which sort of muffled how monotone she is, it sounded sweet and as velvety as those wings and… addicting in a way, “which means clipped wings… It’s always been a metaphorical wall.” In attempts to change the subject off of herself she asks, “you've mentioned a ‘ma’ and ‘pa’. Why don’t you tell me a little about them? Where are they from? How was it like growing up with them?” Genuinely interested and maybe he can pick up on the subtle changes of her expression by now when she turned to finally looked upon his face. Watching how his face changes when talking about them and his brothers, how the lines in his face changes when he smiles… It as almost contagious he way his kind smile reaches his entire face- almost! So much time seemed to fly by and she would sit there contently listening to him talk about himself for once. Eventually, she glances around and notices people sort of pairing off, how could she forget this!? She doesn’t know if it’s the taste of wine which she’s only had two sips of, or if it’s his charm he has, but she wanted to participate for once. After getting rebuffed after their last mistletoe mishap she doubts he would try again and she noticed a couple of ladies flirtatiously waving him over, but it was selfish how she decided for him that his New Years kiss should come from a friend and she’s not very good at this. The countdown roars around them drowning out the whole world it seems, but her words reach them, “I believe this is your year Niall. You’ll show them all and become wildly successful. I just hope I can help in any small way as your friend,” “3, 2, 1!” There's an odd chaotic silence as the old year turns over into the new, you could practically feel the hopeful emotions around them and all the kissing as Raven leans into Niall in aim to place a soft kiss upon the apple of his cheek, but if he turns away… Then, that’s the risk - right?
Niall listens to Raven explain her scarf with a frown that reaches his storm cloud eyes. He watches her mouth, the way her accent plays with words a source of endless fascination to him, and the way her face changes as she speaks. Fights the urge to reach out and touch the velvety feathers of her wings as she explains the importance and intimacy of them. He's glad he'd been careful, alarmed to recall the way his hand had rested on them at the Yule ball. He blanches. "I had no idea," Niall answers honestly, feeling apologetic and looking it too. Raven moves on. He isn't the kind to interrupt, hardly ever has the urge to when he's listening to Rae but when she says 'Master' he coughs. "Master?" He says, pushing a hand through his hair. He feels a flash of temper spark through him but pulls it back. Dials it down until it's just his brows being furrowed and his lips tilting down that give him away as she continues. It was ridiculous, what could he do about things that happened to her in her past? Something starts falling in place for him about her in his mind. How guarded she was. How uncaring she makes herself seem. This evokes and tangled feeling in his chest. The intriguing woman sitting across from him with scars and bars on her heart. His beer has been emptied and replaced a few times by now. He nurses his third, fourth?, and studies her. "Ailes coupées," He repeats, butchering it with his own accent. "You're culture is confusing," He admits, delicately. "Where I come from, emotion isn't something to be ashamed of. Hell, we celebrate it." He shrugs, grins when she asks about his family. "Good, sturdy people my ma and pa." He finished whatever number beer he was on and pushed it forward. "We're from Kelay and Sage, the lot of us. Town in Trees to be exact. My Pa, Malachi, is a farrier and my Ma worked a few shifts at the tavern before she lost her mind for Pa and had a million of us. I have five brothers." His beer is replenished so he helps himself. He talks about his brothers, the farm, growing up with horses. He was talking so easily that he mentions the family gift casually and thinks nothing of it, or explaining it, until its too late and he's already moved on. "I want to take them out," He's saying now. "Somewhere nice, like Schezerade. They deserve it. Plus, my ma just found out she's expecting again." With this he rolls his eyes, looks a little embarrassed and a little worried."She claims to know it's a girl this time but I think this is wishful thinking. My Pa had five brothers, his pa had four." He shrugs. "They would like you. My Pa especially I think," He doesn't notice the room pairing off. He doesn't notice the girls calling to him. His eyes are locked on Rae. When the countdown starts he grins, joins in with the crowd and leans a little closer to Raven just as she moves to give him a kiss on the cheek. Niall, not being a stupid man, hadn't been daft enough to try and kiss her again but.. He wasn't above moving his face just enough that her lips landed on his. Like before, the sound of the tavern falls away. The scent of chocolate and peppermint floods him. It takes Herculean strength to pull himself away and not deepen the kiss. "Rae, I think you're right. It's gonna be my year."
Raven probably should have been clear that when she said master, she meant the person who trained her in her power, but they will cross that when the day comes. When he attempted Veretian she smirks a little bit more and said it again for him, but slower. “Not my culture, my training,” she gently corrected him. Then it happens again, she as certain he wouldn’t do that and assumed he might have even pulled away before giving her that charming smile. Dammit, why is she doing this to herself? Or to him, even? Her heartbeat quickens and thumps loudly in her eardrums while her cheeks surely darken in a blush, but her hands are trembling when she hides them on her lap. When their kiss breaks on the brink of becoming something else her eyes open and look up into his and she sort of stammers, “I-I’m right?” What were they talking about!? Heavy lidded eyes glance back down at his lips which are covered up by his tickly mustache hairs and she wasn’t sure if it was her or that tattooed little angel on her shoulder urging her for another kiss. “Merde,” she breaks away from him and nearly wants to drown herself in her drink, but mumbles, “I need some air.” She slips from the barstool, from him and wraps the scarf around her neck before making for the door.