RP:Tastes Like Chicken
Kelay Tavern
Built and rebuilt, torn apart and set like stubborn bone, this tavern is the pinnacle of Hollow's entirety, wrought around the premise of peace, equality, and consummate amity. And of course, the old place had seen all of the three, but so much more. Dire markings of claw and steel cut deep into wall panels and floorboards. Set against the land's usual motif of destruction are signs of comfort. Twisting shadows and smoothing out a careful blanket of light with soft, quaint fires, a candelabra dangles down by thick cords, gripping the circular holder. Each twists up, converging upon the center, where they snake about one another and form a thick, secure anchor to Kelay Tavern's high, accommodating ceiling. The candelabra rattle now and again from the inn patrons overhead, pouring down globs of wax to the center of the room, which is wide and unobstructed. Cheaply carpentered tables and chairs grow outward around the bare dancing area, keeping to the rounded theme, and also keeping to a dwarven barkeep's avariciously born taste for 'economical' furniture. Hardly any expense has been wasted on the actual upkeep of the public center though, as can be garnered from the smell of deep pine, rich tobacco, and even richer spirits. Stairs twist away dimly near the high bar. And atop that side rests the inn logs, quill, and ink. This establishment's fine keeper, Mesthak, can be seen smiling out from his post at the bar, straight across to the room's always crackling stone-wrought hearth. Behind him, atop lofty shelves, sits an array of dark, amber, and clear liquids. Food smells waft from somewhere near at hand. A carefully printed and hung sign details the purchasable items here in the place of merriment, loss, laughter, and life. Also, tucked into a corner near one of two windows closest to the tavern doorway is a thickly papered bulletin board. A sign has been added next to the board that reads, 'The management requires patrons be fully inebriated at all times and that no curing spells be performed in this tavern-Thank you'.
Brennia is here.
Sabrina pushed open the doors of the Tavern, letting in a fresh wisp of winter air that sweeps endless locks of ebon trusses over her head, covering her field of vision. She curses something in Elvish- a bad habit she is picking up all too well. She stands there in he door for a minute until a patron asks if she is ‘born in a barn.’ She extends a proper digit (another habit she learned recently)and quickly finds a seat, swishing a mass of inky hair back where it belonged with a single movement of her pale arm.
Brennia was sitting at the bar sipping on water and people watching when the entrance of Sabrina enters catches her attention. She watches the scene unfold and lets out a soft chuckle when Sabrina gestures inappropriately. Brennia offers a wave and smirk if Sabrina were to notice her as well. Depending on the reaction of this interesting being Brennia might invite her to sit with her.
Sabrina took the wave as a means of recognition and quickly pulls a tiny scroll from its attached position on her belt loop. She looks at the scroll, then at Brennia, then back at the scroll again before tying It back up and replacing it. She shrugs and makes her way toward Brennia and sits down next to her. She offers what could pass for a smile and politely whispers in Elvish “Do I know you?”
Brennia continues to watch the woman and be entertained. Her royal blue gaze seems to narrow as she is analyzing the language that was just spoken. Brennia shows her pearly whites through a smile before whispering back in broken Elvish, "I do not speak Elvish." Brennia puts this beautiful ring that was lying in the counter top into her pocket before saying to the bar tender, "Get her whatever she would like to drink on me." Brennia pulls out some coin from the same pocket and lays it in place of where the ring was.
Sabrina looks at Brennia like she is dumb. She replies in heavily accented common “Apologies.”She looks at Mesthak and the hygienic condition of his hands that were leaning on the counter that she had dared to lean on. She clears her throat. “Water please.” She pushes away from the bar-top, exaggerating the stickiness of the surface and grumbling. She turns, the befuddled look replaced with a slightly friendlier one. “Am I familiar to you?” She waits for Mesthak to place a glass in front of her and she frowns. It had smudges around the ring and an echo of a handprint around the middle. She wasn’t going to touch that.
Brennia watches Sabrina and continues to smile because contrast to her and the environment Brennia was raised in she thinks the unsanitary unkempt is a welcomed rebellious break. "No you are not, but why don't we start?" Brennia offers with a shrug, causing her left wing to twitch slightly behind her out of its tucked position to her curvaceous figure. Brennia runs a hand through her dark hair revealing she is nearly tattooed from head to toe.
Sabrina peers at the girl’s form and only takes from that…that she appears to be quite tall. Sabrina Sits up straighter, inky ebon trusses having since corrected their previous dishevelment. Her entire stature couldn’t have been more than five foot, if she reached five foot at all. Moments pass in silence before she turns again to speak. Her query is interrupted by a bursting of the door at the entrance. Rohk walks in. His shoulders scrape through the wide birth of the entryway, grey scales dull and plain. Twin tails drag across the floorboards in his wake, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even care when he noisily pushes a chair out of his way to sit by Sabrina’s side. Sabrina rests her elbow on his shoulder, which even in that chair was level to her own. “This is Rohk.” The hell beast lifts a nostril to Brennia, but offers no other acknowledgement.
Brennia shifts her gaze to the creature she speaks of and nods, "Looks like a good companion." Brennia takes a sip of the water from her smudgy glass and as she places her mug down before saying, "My name is Brennia." She extends a caramel complexioned hand for a shake and asks, "So, what are you searching for?" She figures she will ask a basic question, kind of a shot in the dark.
Sabrina is pushed by Rohk’s steamy hot nose time and time again while Brennia speaks and drinks and greets, only to be shoved away with a small shaking of Sabrina’s head. His tails thump the ground very puppy-like and a black tongue slithers out of his vicious maw, mimicking a pant of a common hound. His paw prods at her ankles eagerly and he doesn’t take no for an answer. “Pleasure… to meet…”Finally Sabrina slides out of her chair and uppercuts Rohk hard enough to bite down on his sloppy tongue. “No, I don’t think she tastes like Chicken!” She scowls at him harshly before stomping out, without something as simple as a wave. Rohk snickers as she storms out, licking his lips at what her swears is a chicken; before obediently taking after his person, tipping occupied tables on his way. Also, he didn’t care.