RP:Loose Lips Sink (Friend)Ships

Part of the Rise of Larket Arc

Summary: Thronnel gets lucky when he happens upon a drunken Skylei in the Whalers' Bar. The half-elf not only manages to accidentally give away that she is harbouring Kelovath and Josleen, but also the location of her apartment, all whilst insulting the fugitives in the process. There's also vomiting. Yikes.

The Whalers' Bar

Cheers to the freaking… whatever day it is! Skylei doesn’t care, after all her purpose doesn’t change dependant on day – she came in to get drunk and getting drunk she has achieved. Sat at the bar with a glass of… whatever slop the barman had considered her pittance was worth, the half-elf is in a happy, if somewhat dazed state. Still, as she’s not quite at the stage of ‘sloppy and falling over herself’, the half-elf sees no reason to leave, especially given what waits for her at home. Skylei has been exiled to the couch for nearly two months and, as time has passed, she has become less gracious as Kelovath and Josleen have become less grateful. The vast majority of the time at least one faction attempts to be out of the apartment at any given time to give the other a little space and yet Skylei has payed witness to arguments, private conversations and… well, other ‘private things’, all via the wall between her living room and bedroom. It’s naught short of her own personal nightmare. The bar is crammed with fishermen, sailors and random drunks, and one of the few open seats is alongside her; how convenient. She throws back what’s left of her drink and searches her pocket to see if she has coin to buy another.

Thronnel had spent weeks combing over Frostmaw, searching every nook and cranny for his quarry, only to find nothing. After attending a quick coronation ceremony in Larket, he decided to move his search to Cenril. He had been here for like an hour and he already hated this city. Seamen were hardly Thronnel's sort, and this city was crawling with them. Along with other undesireables; orphans and bums were around every corner. He'd already hexed two panhandlers for bothering him. As he slipped into the packed bar, he scanned the crowd for any sign of his targets. Finding none, he settled on trying to mingle and overhear something good. He slipped through the crowd carefully and ended up sitting down next to Skylei. He noticed her rummaging, but said nothing, and ordered a rum. Not that he liked anything on the menu here, but he had to blend in.

Skylei finds a coin. Jackpot. She butts in as the barmaid takes Thronnel’s order, “Make that two, will you?” She’s a regular and she knows it pisses the barmaids off to do two journeys that could have been done in one. She goes to slide the coin to Thronnel so that he can pay for them both together. “Thanks.” She stops and eyes the man, “You…” Skylei pulls a sloppy drunk face, “Are not from Cenril.” So says the half-elf who is also a non-native, is dressed head to toe in Sage elf attire and lacks a proper Cenrili accent. No irony here, folks. “You must really need a drink if you’re stopping by this place. Kanos knows I do.”

Thronnel raised an eyebrow at the coin. She wanted them paid for together? Well, whatever, no big deal. Not like she was asking him to treat her. He stared at Skylei as she stared at him. Drunk, and chatty. Two things that could either be very good or very bad. Normally he wouldn't have pursued a conversation, but he had to start somewhere. So when she mentioned needing a drink, he asked, "Oh? And why is that?"

Make no mistake: drunk, chatting Skylei is always a bad thing, but generally only for herself. “You know how it is when family comes to town and outstay their welcome. Skylei rolls her eyes and shakes her head, all for show, “Absolute bloody nightmare.” Rum arrives and Skylei takes a swig before continuing. This kid can talk for Cenril “I wouldn’t mind, y’know family and all that. But they’ve been here a while and there’s only so much any one person can take of lovebirds swooning around the flat, her stupid boyfriend constantly complaining about how corrupt Cenril is, or whatever gripe has got his holy ass that day.” Skylei pauses and firmly plonks the glass back down on the bar. She spins on her seat and faces Thronnel, the poor man facing the brunt of her irritation at Josleen and Kelovath’s presence, “Ugh, and that’s not even mentioning their stupid dog keeps leaving dirt all over my floor which is then my fault because I can’t keep the apartment clean.”

Thronnel nodded, all sympathy. "I understand entirely." He left his own rum untouched. Something she had said piqued his interest, however. 'Holy ass,' hmm? "You say one of your... guests is a holy man? A priest?" or a paladin?

“Nah, nah, nah,” slurs drunk Skylei, “Not -my- guest. My sister’s guest. Anyway, she was married to this other guy; a mage. Now HE was great! Not an asshole, like all the other guys and this one. I’ve known this one for years, he had a holy militia back in the day y’know.” Poor Kelovath gets trial by Skylei and, as all of Josleen’s former beaus have, he fails to meet her approval. “Anyway, these days he’s into Arkhen or something. I dunno.” So speaks the fellow worshipper of Arkhen, managing to blaspheme, and condemn Kelovath in one fell swoop. “Either way, he’s convinced that the streets of Cenril are filled with sin and corruption. Which we all know they are, just most of us have the decency to keep our mouths shut about it all and just get on with it.” Skylei swigs some more rum. Another terrible mistake on her part.

Thronnel hummed. Other people's interpersonal drama was always fun to listen to. "I'm a mage, myself. We do tend to be a good lot," he said. "And you say this man had a militia? Where was he stationed, do you know? Perhaps he can be called back into service and out of your hair." Skylei may only enjoy having an audience when she’s drunk, but she’s absolutely drinking up the amount of attention she’s getting from Thronnel right now. Who doesn’t love to vent their problems to strangers? “It’s an honourable profession.” Back to Josleen; Sky has little time for Kelovath “Yeah, so she was married to this great mage. A Flectomancer. And then there’s her dad – totally great guy. He lives up in Xalious and works for the guild up there – maybe you’ve met him; Kyl’oriel??” Not only is drunk Skylei sloppy, but she’s also unable to keep her mean thoughts internalised and instead they spew out like uncontrollable word vomit, “Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my sister – I do. But she’s a waste of elf blood, to be honest. Went to bard school, did the whole healer thing in a couple of wars but with the amount of magical potential she must have in her blood, especially considering Kyl’oriel is her dad…” Skylei trails off, “Either way, she’s no mage. Such a shame.”

Thronnel kept a straight face, but on the inside he was gleefully shocked. Seemed he'd ht the jackpot with this girl. "I've heard of Kyl'oriel, yes. I would have expected the daughter of such a man to be a mage of great renown, herself. A shame, indeed." Thronnel subtly slid his glass over to Skylei. Perhaps she'd grab it and continue drinking, but perhaps not. Either way, the more sloshed she became, the better. He didn't know if Skylei was truly Josleen's sister or not--she had to be a half-sister at most, given how she spoke of Kyl'oriel--but he wasn't about to point out the slip. That would only put her on her guard. "Perhaps it's best if you speak openly and honestly with your sister. If this sojourn has really gone on for so long that it's bothering you this much, it might be time to put your foot down."

Skylei is entirely unaware of her slip up mentioning Kyl’oriel. She shouldn’t have mentioned him, Kelovath’s ‘holy ass’ as she had so nicely put it, or penchant for Arkhen. All of these mistakes, but certainly the former, highlight her as the harbourer of the Larketian fugitives without doubt. And yet, sloppy Skylei cannot stop talking, “Or a scholar at the very least, right? Such a shame.” Skylei shakes her head and reaches forward and finds her glass… full? Hadn’t she finished her rum already? Either way, it’s a pleasant surprise and the half-elf takes another drink, “It’s not that simple with family. You go through the good and the bad times together, even if the bad times mean sleeping on your own couch so that her and her boyfriend can have your bed.” Skylei shakes her head, blurring the world even more than it already is, “Wooah, might be time to stop.” Thronnel put out a hand to steady her. "That would be wise, I think. Would you allow me to walk you home, to ensure no harm befalls you? Some of these streets are a little uneven, and I'd hate for you to take a spill and crack your head."

Skylei nods, though that only serves to make her even dizzier. “I think that might… be wise.” Where she had previously been chatty, Skylei’s thoughts are now turned only to ‘don’t throw up, don’t throw up’ as she slides off of the bar stool. She would go to leave, unwittingly knocking shoulders with multiple patrons as she did and would only pause once she was out in the cool fresh air. Taking a few seconds to breathe and quell nauseous feelings, Sky would gesture south, “This way. I live on Arril Street.”

Thronnel followed Skylei through the crowd, sending glares at anyone who seemed to take umbrage with Skylei's swaying. Rowdy drunks were not on his list of things to deal with today. He was so close to his goal, he needed no interruptions. Once they were outside, slipped his arm through hers to balance her. "Lead on, my good woman."

Skylei totters down Memorial Avenue until they reach Merchant Street, quickly turning and taking an alleyway that would seem to the unknowing to be a rather strange and impractical route. Skylei, a long-time Cenril resident, knows all the shortcuts, even in her inebriated state. On multiple occasions, it’s only thanks to the fact that Thronnel is holding her up that Skylei doesn’t fall flat on the ground. Suddenly Skylei stops, stopping her company with her. And without warning she throws up. She throws up A LOT.

Thronnel mentally groaned. Well wasn't this going to be fun. He stayed by Skylei's side, holding her hair back out of her face as she emptied her stomach. Once she seemed to be done, he pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her. "I'd ask if you were alright, but I think it's obvious you are not. Are we close to your home?"

Skylei has vomit on her shoes, a little dribbled down her chin and, arguably grossest of all, in the loose strands of hair around her face that Thronnel had missed. If nothing else, Skylei is a reliable vommiter. “Mmm, fine.” She slurs, before pointing at a large grey-brick apartment building just across the way, “That’s m’building. Thank’ye for gettin’ me home.” She would go to unlink her arm from his and stumble across the way towards her building, up the stairs and through the door.

Thronnel mulled over his choices. He didn't really care if Skylei fell while on the stairs, but he wanted more than just a single building to search. He wanted to know which apartment it was. He allowed Skylei to remove herself, but he did say, "May I accompany you to your door? Just so that I can be certain no last-second mishaps occur."

Skylei shakes her head and attempts to wave a dismissive hand, though it’s more limp and floppy than truly dismissive, “N’no, it’s fine. I only live’n the second floor. How much damage can I do in that little time?” She continues on her little trek up to her apartment building, whether he chooses to follow her or not.

Thronnel nodded, then watched her go. Second floor. Okay, that was better. It was best he not push his luck with her, or she might get suspicious. And then she might mention it to that 'sister' of hers, and then it would all be for naught. "Feel better, miss. Sleep well!" he called. He would wait until she was inside, and then he would leave for the inn. He had to plan, and then, he would strike.