RP:Tattoos and Wolves

Summary: Artia asks Meri about a new tattoo and catches Larewen up on some gossip regarding House Dragana when Desparrow enters, attempting to pick a fight with the vampire.

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, 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'.

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Meri shoulders open the tavern door and steps into view, lingering in the door way long enough to cast a glance about the room to note who is present. Several pieces of paper are held neatly against her chest but as she steps into the room, she loosens her clutch on her work and begins to distribute a few of the flyers around sporadically to empty tables. No flyer is quite identical, the borders are all unique and hand drawn -- possibly by Meri herself? The message of the flyer is clear though: Come to SoulsKin out in Rynvale is you want some ink. Will consider traveling for work. Though the flyers are left on tables, the artist's ultimate goal is to make her way toward that board.

Artia moved inside the tavern wearing nothing special as she had just left the sick bay in Larket, she tossed off her cloak and plopped down into an empty chair at an empty table. Rubbing her hands against her face with a sigh, dropping her hands to her lap. Looking up is when she saw the flyers in Meri grasp, a tattoo..are they enchanted? Standing up she walked over to Meri table, "do you have your work with you? Here, now? Are they enchanted? Like come to life off the skin?"

Desparrow steps into the tavern, beaten and bloodied again. This time it was several gashes on his midsection, the armor on his torso having been destroyed, and at least on his way over he had put on some pants. His cheek had sealed but the hand was still hurting like hell. He nodded to the ladies, stepping up to the bar and slamming down a handful of coins. "Whatever the snake wants and the strongest whiskey you've got." he sighed, waiting for the glass patiently, though when it was delivered he proceeded to pour it onto his burned hand which was followed by gritted teeth and hissing.

Larewen pushed open the door to the establishment, and with that motion the room was flooded with magic. It was not an invasive sort, but rather a lighter exchange than might have been expected. It moved over people and items, as if it were simply exploring the layout of the room - and that was precisely what it was doing. The elf was clad in her usual garb: emerald bustle gown and ebon fedora with veil. Heeled boots clicked as she crossed the wooden floorboards and meandered through table, chair, and patron toward the bar. Her magic was sent out in waves, it would seem to those more sensitive to its thrum; as if it were a form of echolocation, rather than simply clinging to her person. The necromancer was doing just that, really. She was blind, and though her dark eyes roamed this way and that, they never seemed to settle on any object or person. It was for show, perhaps.

Meri 's red lips curve up into a light smile as she is bombarded with questions before she has a chance to officially pin her advertisement. Promising signs. Meri turns to face Artia, though the answers given may no be quite as hoped. "Ah, no. I mean not my actual designs, I left those back at the shop in Rynvale...I drew up the flyers though. And I there are people around here who have my work...Like Emi. Not the white design on her hands though. But another piece that she has..." As Artia's questions are answered, Meri's blue eyes moves toward the door to note the string of new arrivals that are pouring in. Their presence is noted, yes, but the potential client still gains the bulk of her attention. "But no...they don't come to life, I just do your standard tattoo...Nothing special."

Xzavior followed in right after Desparrow looking a little worn down and with a burn mark around his arm. He went to go sit with Des until he heard Artia and changed course offering Des an apologetic look as he did, not without ordering his drink first. Upon reaching her he smiled and wrapped an arm around her, "Hello again, how has the day treated you?"

Artia 's body quivered at the feel of such old magic moving over and along her body. Something strong, and dark had moved into the establishment. Her eyes moved to the female she met months ago that she called beautiful and shared a drink with the day she met Talyara. A soft smile rose from the corner of her ruby lips, "Larewen..." She spoke out the name, remembering it well. She had respect for the vampire, not just because who she was to Daermon and her girlfriend but from that one simple day of sharing a drink. No one wanted the witch near, but she welcomed her in the best of Larewen ways. Her cranium and visage was posed back to Meri as she heard each word. Cyan blue optics gazed into Meri's own blues, "I see...now if I got some ink, would you mind if I got it enchanted or do you prefer me not to do that to your art? Either way..on my ribs. I want twin angel wings, so even though my twins are dead I still carry them with me." Pausing, "can you do such a thing?"

Desparrow nodded to Xzavior, waving him off in acceptance of his apology. It was no big deal. First his eyes laid on Meri, and he vaguely remembered her. Then he felt, and saw that magic through his left violet eye. He repulsed it with a clashing wave of his own. If it was Larewen's sight then the direct vicinity of Desparrow would be seen as a void, or static, however it worked for the woman. He didn't know what she was but wasn't about to allow someone of that caliber to know who he was. He could sense the power coming from her. Larewen was dangerous, a threat. His eyes would remain on her.

Larewen reached the bar in due time, and a few moments before the breath that would bring her name to Artia's lips would be exhaled. When the notes of the witch's voice reached her ears, the elf's head turned in the other's direction. Behind that veil, that was an odd way in the twist of her lips upward. Her nostrils flared, inhaling the scents of those nearby. To Meri, she would speak quite suddenly, perhaps having heard their conversation: "You ought to answer yes, for there is a vampire in the city of Larket that would gladly enchant the ink she needles into the skin of her clientele." It was precisely at that moment, her mouth agape in preparation of replying to Artia's greeting, that she felt the surge of Desparrow's own magic. This brought the necromancer's stare to him - though her eyes were certainly off. A sneer curled her upper lip, and there would be a wave of her own sent in reply - she was toying with the man. Finally, to Artia, the elf would speak, "You have won the heart of the fledgling for whom I have housed. For that reason alone, I shall continue upon friendly terms. Good evening, Artia." The witch's name was spoken carefully, as if the necromancer were tasting it.

Artia 's body quivered at the feel of such old magic moving over and along her body. Something strong, and dark had moved into the establishment. Her eyes moved to the female she met months ago that she called beautiful and shared a drink with the day she met Talyara. A soft smile rose from the corner of her ruby lips, "Larewen..." She spoke out the name, remembering it well. She had respect for the vampire, not just because who she was to Daermon and her girlfriend but from that one simple day of sharing a drink. No one wanted the witch near, but she welcomed her in the best of Larewen ways. Her cranium and visage was posed back to Meri as she heard each word. Cyan blue optics gazed into Meri's own blues, "I see...now if I got some ink, would you mind if I got it enchanted or do you prefer me not to do that to your art? Either way..on my ribs. I want twin angel wings, so even though my twins are dead I still carry them with me." Pausing, "can you do such a thing?" Than to Larewen, "Pilar, yes I love her much. She is currently living with me after the fight that happened at the mansion. I welcomed her happily as it meant more time together." Artia said to Xzavior, "Fighting again?"

Xzavior shivered as he felt the magic creep over him, with a quick look to find the source he tilted his head with slight interest. He muttered Lawewen's name to himself before turning back to Artia and Meri as they talked about tattoos and enchantments. He even thought about getting one himself at one point, though he didn't know of what and for what. When she called out his burn he laughed, "Yea, kinda. You can thank Des for this one. I'll be fine though. Give it a few days ad it should be gone."

Desparrow narrowed his gaze and as he stood more ether wreathed his form, grasping Larewen's magic and strangling it, mixing and churning around him like a storm until he absorbed it into his own body giving Larewen a -very- clear view of whom he was. She alone would know what he was. She would see that what little shred of his body was actually left as flesh was old, and completely supported with life by magic. He would step up to her and whisper into her ear. After hearing her and Artia speak he knew exactly what this woman was and shoed physical distaste for her

Desparrow whispered to Larewen, "You should meet me... outside.."

Meri does not seem to recall Desparrow, though their paths most certainly have crossed. It was some time ago though, maybe it's just slipped her mind. There is this odd nagging familiarity but with so much occurring, it is easy for Meri to dismiss the feeling. The trio that just arrived are all briefly greeted with a nod, alas one of them may not be able to see this greeting? Meri is clueless -- she tried and is just going to commit one of those social faux pas. It's really a good thing that only Emi knows that Meri's memory is amiss for even her tattooing abilities should be brought to question given everything that she doesn't remember. "No, no I don't mind at all. Tattoos are an entirely personal thing so if you feel the need to expand upon it, then this will just be a partnership to make it happen." Those blue eyes slide toward Larewen, "If I could do both, I would gladly answer yes. What's the name of this other artist?" .

Larewen's attention was immediately snared by Artia when the fight was mentioned, and for once the necromancer appeared confused, perhaps even startled. "Fight?" she echoed, and there was a cold curiosity in that silver-intoned voice. Her features darkened. Was that why Pilar had not been seen within her walls recently? Undoubtedly, it was. The elf beseeched Mesthak for a glass of cabernet before a hand extended in Artia's direction, a single, gloved index finger separated from the rest to beg the witch come nearer. "It seems there are things the young one has kept to herself; I fear that her meekness may give cause for great harm in the future. Come, tell me what the little one has not." She felt the drag of Desparrow's magic upon her own, and in response, the necromancer's own seemed to hook into the male, seeking to draw not only itself, but his mana as well, back to the necromancer. The other's nearness, when he approached to whisper in pointed ear, was met wtih a sickly sweet cackle. Her own reply was not as quiet. "I will deal with you, when my own boredom permits so, boy," was hissed.

Larewen said to Meri, "That's a good question. Vasha, if my memory serves me right. It has been some time, though."

Desparrow growled low, now right next to the woman. She could try and pull from him but it wasn't that easy. He was a master of its use and no one could easily wrest it from him. "Larewen.. Interesting. I feel like I've heard that name." he wanted to grab the vampire by the throat but instead he thought of something more fun. He let her pull a bit of his magic from him, visible as ribbons of ether vented from the pores of his skin that would flow into the vampire's body. It would however at his command bond with her essence, and begin to work its way through her body, her blood and attach to her molecular composition much like it had done to Xzavior which was visible now that she has seen him. It pulsed through the naga's blood and was becoming more potent with each fight. Though if she tried to take more she would find that none would react to her command and she had best cut her losses on the magic she had given up, or just as she pulled from him, he would siphon from her.

Artia nods to Meri, "Tomorrow I can come by and get the ink on my ribs done if alright?" She caught the hand gesturing for artia, offering Meri a nod. "I apologize I will return." With that she moved up to Larewen, "Pilar is flourishing in Larket even got herself a job, but yes it seems she has left you in the dark. Artia did not mind speaking to Larewen, oddly enough Larewen brought a comfort to her soul. Leaning over she spoke in hushed tones so none knew the business that was spoken. Once done, Artia sat up slowly, looking to Xzavior with a smile. She would share a drink with him shortly, couldn't ignore one of her best friends. Her cyan eyes ripped towards Desparrow, a silent look given to him as she didn't like what was happening between the vampire and lycan. Especially someone so close to Pilar.

Artia whispered to Larewen, "Khitti and Pilar got into a fight, I believe Khitti strangled Pilar as she had bruising on her neck. Khitti called me a whore and claimed I would break Pilar's heart again. The reason I broke it the first time was to protect her from a curse I had. Pilar must've said somethings to anger Khitti as they got into a fight. Ever since I've kept Pilar under my roof until she feels comfortable leaving."

Meri dips her head in a nod, leaving the talk of the tattoo at that for the time being. She did not want to keep Artia from any important business that she would be conducting. "Sure, tomorrow. We'll hash out the rest of the details then." In the mean time, the tattooed woman's blue eyes will linger on the scene before her. Usually she wasn't so inclined to be nosey, snooping into business that wasn't hers. But hey, this business distracted her prospective client from their business, she couldn't help but be curious.

Xzavior frowned as Desparrow advanced on Larewen and shook his head to her response. He wasn't sure if they would actually fight or not despite what she said. His eyes narrowed as he saw the ether form from Desparrow's body, "Des, Think about what you're doing before you do something you can't take back." He sat down at the table and offered Meri a smile, "Sorry, my name's Xzavior. I've been the person most recently occupying Artia's time."

Larewen almost appeared distracted from Artia's response, and though she desperately wished to continue the conversation, there were more pressing matters at hand. Namely, a vexing hound. Quite suddenly, the elf rose to her feet from the stool she had adopted, the glass of wine proffered by Mesthak nearly toppled in the sudden rush of air that accompanied the elder vampire's movement. Dark eyes fixed on Desparrow's personal, and for once, it was directly upon him: his magic gave her direction to his exact position. There was a fire in the darkening twist of the necromancer's features, and a wicked grin seemed to nearly split her face. The tie he had to his magic would meet with wards of arcane nature that the vampire had built within her mind, traps meant to detect and deter invasive abilities such as his own, and not in the kindest of ways. A wave of burning pain would be sent in return to the lycan, the moment he attempted to command the siphoning of his own magic. As long as he expelled it, the elf would swallow it up, as if she were a vampire to magic, as much as she were to life. His best bet were to turn away now, or pray that the elf had enough respect for Mesthak not to damage his fine establishment. The fiery exchange of mana within the air caused the sources of light to flicker, as if they too were being drawn upon. "Do not test me, dog," came the vile hiss of the necromancer, all propriety lost in the moment. There was a sort of giddiness to her tone that could only be described as madness. "Do you truly wish the wrath of my House upon you? Think, silly mutt, of where you are. A tavern where fights have been long prohibited; a place that many of this land treasure and hold dear. I have refused your fight, because I have far more important matters-" namely those pertaining to Artia and Pilar "-to attend to than your mangy coat."

Meri slides her gaze right on over to Xzavior as the snake-man addresses her, though it is with a bit of a struggle that she tears her gaze away from the spat. When she does, red lips manage to turn up into a smile, "Meri is my own name, nice to meet you..." Okay maybe under different circumstances it might be more nice. It should go without saying that Meri's gaze ultimately returns to Larewen and Desparrow, half-expecting thing to escalate.

Desparrow ceased allowing his magic to be fed upon the moment that the pain surged throughout his entire body. Like fire in his veins it paralyzed him, every muscle in his body bulging with tensions. His magic had drawn back into his body, realizing that if he continued to feed her it'd just be a loss. He would have to come up with a way to circumvent her particular skill set. "Test you is exactly the plan." he spat at her as he passed. "You are a filthy plague that needs to be washed away in a wave of purifying flame. You disgust me. As for the environment, it is exactly why I haven't made to bite you, and let my blessing rip through your flesh and destroy you from within." he laughed then, wiggling his fingers in good bye as he exited the doors.

Artia heard Xzavior's words and did her best not to laugh, "Best friends and being my apprentice does that. I live and breath my work." Not to be rude her attention went fully back to Larewen, which was startled by the way Larewen was reacting to Desparrow. Oh gods Des what are you doing? Back away please des. .please. she thought inside her head. The power of Larewen swept over Artia as she was sensitive to magic, the aura about Larewen looked like it was a flamed ready to explode. The lights flickering as the candles reacted to the presence of such strong abilities within Larewen form. Closing her eyes she had to sigh, to break the connection to feel magic around her. She would fix such a thing tomorrow, for now it needed to be disconnected. With a hand to her chest she gasped in relief Desparrow had fled the tavern, 'Oh thank the higher powers.' She whispered in her mind.

Larewen tilted her head at Desparrow, at an angle that was almost unreal. "You're a fool, if you think that would be the result, puppy," came the tart reply of the necromancer. "I could turn you inside out; I could make you my puppet, as I have done others before you. Do you truly think that you hold more power than I do?" It was with these words that the elf stepped from her stool to stand nearly nose to nose with the lycan. Granted, the elf was probably a bit on the shorter side, and looking up at him. It might even be comical, for the more foolish. "You are just as cursed as we are, pup." Those were the words that left her mouth as he wiggled his fingers, as he took his departure. Larewen's immediate vicinity seemed a few degrees warmer than it ought to; as if she had perhaps truly lost her temper.

Xzavior wasn't as well attuned but was enough to feel the ever growing pressure after Des had made his move causing him another shiver. Xzavior shook his head with a frown as Desparrow left feeling more at ease with his separation from Larewen. He'd never understand the hatred between vampires and lycans. Turning back to the table he quickly replaced the look with a more relaxed one, "Well now that that is over."

Meri shakes her head as she also moves toward the door, shortly after Desparrow. Not to chase down the lycan though, nope. It was time to call it a night for this gal! Nevermind her quest to post her advertisement on the board, leaving a few of the hand drawn flyers for SoulsKin would have to suffice for tonight.

Diryon enters the tavern in the wake of some departing patron, brushing a hand through his hair while he gives those within a charming smile in greeting. The tension between Desparrow and Larewen is damn near palpable, however, especially considering the magical forces in play that are surely detectable to the mage. That causes his smile to falter a bit, but he doesn't linger on such a thing. Instead, Diryon approaches Artia and Xzavior, grinning at the former and nodding at the later. "Evening, friends. Eventful night, maybe?"

Artia looked to Diryon his smile though, she couldn't help but to smile back. Looking away from him as she was still awaiting Larewen if she got in the mood for it. Then to Diryon again, "Diryon, how are you? It is making out to be a very eventful eve, how are you?" She cringed as she said that twice.