RP:Whiskey and Stitches - Reprise

This is a Healer's Guild RP.

Summary: A convalescent Demeter, burdened by the upcoming duel with Shishi, decides to calm her nerves the old fashioned way: with a solid amount of booze, to be enjoyed at the smelly Whalers' for good measure. Fate, in the form of an equally very much needed/deserved drink, brought a second Avian, Thamalys, into the very same bar. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the two end up sharing the above mentioned bottle, as the Healer gains the opportunity to a admire Joan's magical craft (she was the one to fix Demeter after her latest, fairly bloody, duel) and even offer some physiotherapy advice.

Cenril: The Whalers' Bar

The Whaler's Bar is a well-loved destination in Cenril, and at any given time the sound of raucous laughter and the buzz of talk will be audible from outside its walls. Inside will often reside any number of individuals from all races and walks of life, as the owner has made it clear that all are welcome within his tavern. It is a space especially beloved of the fishermen and sailors who frequent Cenril's shores, and has the sort of worn homeyness that can be expected from such a haunt. The building is made of sturdy oak, though the interior is dingy from time and innumerable patrons. The original dark stain is faded and scratched, especially on the floor, but despite its flaws the Bar is kept cheerily lit by lamps. The bar itself is narrow, pitted and glossy, and at the end of the day finding a seat along its length can be a difficult thing. So too is the task of cleaning made difficult by day's end, and no matter the attempts made at wiping spills and sweeping the floor, surfaces are often dingy and sticky -- not that the regular clientele cares about such trite things as tidiness. Indeed, various old trophies from local sailing legends line the walls in a cluttered display and it usually smells of seawater, sweat and fish. Assuredly The Whaler's Bar is a scarred, beat up bar, but to hear the locals tell it there is no better place for a drink after a long day in all the port cities in the land.

Demeter needed a drink after the last fights she has been in, first one took her eye and new even more scars across her face. The battle with her cousin, and not having her armor back yet caused the blade to blind her eye. Her right wing was healing from a burn, right on top of that burn was about ten stitches. The left shoulder has close to fifteen stitches, needing to wear an black silk wrap around her torso to not harm her wing to get dressed or aggravate her shoulder. Large black wings hung low and the tail feathers dragged along behind her as the female plopped down at a table. Waving to the bartender for her usual. Bottle of whiskey. No shot glass needed. Once arrived she took it with her left hand, missing a pinky finger, scarred from a small dragon teeth ripping it off.

Thamalys strode into the Whalers’ with a sigh of relief. Negotiating Guild’s matter was never a pleasure, not for him at least, and even more so when there was to strike a compromise between Ara and Cenril. Dressed in simple leather trousers and a loose white shirt, for once the Blue did not carry any – visible – weapon. Maybe he was growing older, maybe he had reason to trust the smelly streets of Cenril after all – he still disliked that smell, though, that tended to stick to his massive mane of dreadlocks for days. Not even the high winds managed to get rid of that stench quickly enough – fish, salt, piss. Some liked it, but the Winged Beast was not amongst them. Making his entrance shortly after Demeter, the Spellblade could not help but notice her – and, perhaps most prominently, the fat bottle sitting right in front of her. What were the chances of two Avians walking into a tavern after all? Fate demanded some clarifications. “Mind if I join you?” would have offered the Blue, slowly circumnavigating her table whilst declining already the rather attentive waitress and eying instead the rather peculiar stretch of silk running across the Lamashtian.

Demeter turned her head to see who was entering, long ears gave a twitch as she witnessed who entered the smelly establishment. Mix of fish and alcohol, noting he wore what seemed to be more comfortable clothes then last she saw him, well over a year ago. No weapons were on his person, Demeter’s were off getting cleaned and sharpened by a young blacksmith trying to gain favor, along with giving her armor a nice new shine. The left side of her head was shaved, hair styled to the right in tiny braids. A smile tugged at her lips, seemingly gone soft towards avians. Especially Haeli who seemed small and scared of everything. “Of course, it has been some time eh?” Following his eyes down to her torso, “I have been fighting a lot, sit and I will catch you up. You catch me up as well.”

Thamalys nodded, moving the chair and sitting down almost in perfect silence. The Blue did, however, gestured toward the waitress this time, plainly pleading for an actual glass – manners, he would have never given up. “Recent?” simply inquired the Spellblade, immediately regretting to have laid hands on the old, battered wooden table, sticky as the warm air from the sea, blessed by countless spillages of more or less delicate spirits. “I can’t imagine what the other guy – or girl, even? – might look like now...” he added with a grin, whilst hilariously enough trying to accommodate the monumental extent of his ivory wings, neatly furled and yet still a head turner, around is perch. Eventually, he turned the chair the other way and sat again, the rim of his wings twitching in irritation. Meanwhile, not one but two glasses arrived. The Blue lifted a single eyebrow, as he tentatively reached for the bottle.

Demeter gives a nod, “Before I arrived back, I got into a fight with my cousin who was guarding the armory back home, her dragon took my pinky. She got my face and eyes pretty good. The wing is from Dawn, I think she is still healing from the damage done. Jinfeng did damage to the shoulder, I repaid it with a spear to his thigh that I tied rope to. Flew him up a good ten feet, jerked it free and dropped him down into a burning tar pit. No one has seen him since, tried to get him out but he refused help. Next fight in the tournament is against Shishi, to be honest he is a legendary fighter, a little nervous. At least I know he is of the undead so fire is a major weakness.” As she was speaking the avian pulled the cork from the whiskey, waving her hand for two glasses to not be rude and drink from the bottle. Just in case he doesn’t like passing a bottle back and forth. “I am in the semi finals. Whoever wins this, goes against the finalist. I was asking those that watched him fight before from the stands, trying to find his weakness. Where he doesn’t guard, so I can aim for that part of his body. I've been practicing and learning new skills with the flame.”

Thamalys did not resist the pouring attempt – the Wind knew, he needed a drink badly. “Quite the list, you built yourself...” whispered the Blue, briefly jerking his head toward the back of the tavern, as a solid “thud” signified the start of some game of darts. “Worry not about Shishi, though – he is an opponent, legendary or not, it makes little difference. What matters is that you push yourself a little further, every duel. Give it a century or so, and they’ll be singing songs about – you – by then...” An unusually long sentence for the Healer, but so what? Company he truly enjoyed was always scarce, and his was a life of duties before everything else. “All of that cutting and bruising... all nicely healed? I would be happy to have a look if you wanted me to” he added, maybe, just maybe imagining only a slight tension in her wounded shoulder. Another little of that excellent liquor found its way through the cracked, grey lips of the Winged Beast – he sighed, leaning his chest against the back of the chair, still standing in between Avian and table.

Demeter’s brow arched, “What do you mean list?”she whispered back. Her head turned to the side, similar to an inquisitive bird. “Nah, not sing songs about me sir. I already scare most folks around here, tall female warriors. A drunk tried to kiss my hand the other day, reacted without thinking and punched him. Had a nice brawl after that.” She spoke with a playful tone, “At least my spear is all the love I need.” This time it was a sad attempt to jest. Rotating her shoulder, giving a nod. “Joan did well, but I still have a lot of stiffness that may affect using my spear. In progress trying to make someone to make light enough armor for my wings since I seem to get in with the crowd that likes to fight. Not doing this for glory mind you, just doing this to prove to myself I am still a good warrior.”

Thamalys offered a dry smile. “I meant, a long list of fights – it looks like trouble has an easy way of finding you after all. Or maybe it is the other way around?” A glint in his eyes, as he toyed with his glass – a crude object, featuring a proper dent even. “You certainly did well with that drunk, though – chances are I’ll find it on my tables in Ara when I go back”. Something similar to a laugh built for a second or so, before another “thud” and some mild dart-related excitement cut it short. “May I?” he suddenly went in a lower voice, the bony index finger in his right hand pointing toward her shoulder, as his ivy-shaped tattoos ominously twirled on his skin. “It is one thing to fix some damage, it is another to return tendons and muscles to their former glory – you do not want your collarbone to falter when the enemy blade strikes...”

Demeter nods, “I think it is both ways, I like to fight. Heck, not get romanced off my feet so might as well sweep other’s off.” A deep rumble laugh came from her chest, and a true smile for once. “If you see a drunk with a broken nose, smack him for me? Or poke him with a needle good and hard.” As for looking at her shoulder, a glance to it then back to him. “Yes, that is fine. Joan used magic to try and thread the muscle back together. Instead of not using it, I used it again in that brawl. So, most likely I undid something she did. Tore a few stitches, the stitches on the wing seem to hold up well. Still a nice burning sting if I fly too long. I want to go harder then I ever have to harm Shishi to the point he will need to spend time in the healer’s tent, from what I have heard, he been the champ for awhile.”

Thamalys dragged his chair with him, ignoring the look of the old couple sitting in the corner nearby. In their defence, the two Avians alone were enough to stir a bit of excitement at the Whalers’ – but what was the tall one up to? Carefully, the Blue positioned himself behind the Lamashtian’s shoulder, gently displacing the black silk with expert fingers. For a while, there was silence, barely interrupted by the bartender getting upset about something very minor indeed. “Joan did well...” he acknowledged the Healer, nodding slowly. “Some stitches might be gone, but you barely need those anymore – you must heal very fast...” he noted, following the thread of the stitches along her shoulder and silently commenting on the quality of the healing craft. “However” and there he stopped for a moment, inserting his right arm below her armpit to whilst positioning his left hand on the left side of her neck, rather carefully attempting to avoid any contact with her wings. “Your muscles need to be re-educated to bear the brunt of a serious hit. Watch...” he went on, suddenly pulling her shoulder against his chest whilst simultaneously pushing her neck from left to right. A loud snap would have filled the air, as the weakened ligaments would have given way to the blow. No pain involved into this demonstration, but a clear indication instead of the need for her to invest time and effort in strengthening her muscles to their former glory.

Demeter went a little tense when he moved the piece of silk from her shoulder, never has anyone removed anything from her without her doing it herself. Nor has a male touched her flesh in such gentleness since her dragon, her best friend and now he was gone. “Were they supposed to be-” She stopped speaking, picking up the compliment a little slowly at that, “Yeah, I've been told I have been a quick healer. Have to pick the life of a warrior.” With his hand on the side of her she couldn’t help to blush, clearing her throat. She had been around other couples too much to see the gentleness a man or woman does. Ignoring her embarrassing moment of the blush, she moved with him, a puppet on the string he led. The pop made her cringe, and exhale slowly to not show she was slightly nervous as his words. “How do we do that?”

Thamalys gently move the shoulder back into place, carefully feeling the socket as he loosened his grip on her neck. Even he could tell that, despite her effort to hide it, she sounded rather tense – perhaps uncomfortable, even. He attributed that to her warrior’s pride though, potentially having failed once more to realise the rest of the world had a very different baseline in terms of empathy. He stood up, lifting his chair with one hand and positioning on the other side of the table – the bartender was still there, sort of frozen behind the counter, holding a jug in one hand and a piece of cloth in the other, the scene apparently too interesting for him to return to his job. The Blue shook his shoulders, oblivious to everyone but Demeter. “Well, there are no shortcuts, I am afraid, not even magic” he commented. “In fact, you really want to feel the pain that will come with the strain, as that is a good indication that your muscles are doing work. You have seen the motion I imparted to your shoulder. All you need to do is to replicate that – and try to oppose it. For instance, you could grab a big shield and have someone bashing on it in the attempt to bring your shoulder back – your job is to resist that motion. You will not succeed at the start, but in a week or two you will notice the difference. When is it that you will be facing Shishi?” As he ranted on, another non-insignificant amount of liquor would have left the bottle in favour of the Spellblade’s glass...

Demeter felt relieved he moved but at same time sort of sad, not understanding why the sad part though. Demeter paid no mind to anyone inside, the only person she thought about and looked to was him. Hearing the bad news of magic and no shortcuts to fix her up immediately. The warrior sighs again, she definitely felt the pain and soreness. “In little over a week from now, nineteenth to be exact. So I carry my shield and get hit, should I move my shoulder basically dropping it in the direction you pulled?” After he refilled his cup she did the same, “Maybe you can come, and be my healer for the battle. I know I will need it.” Lifting the cup and finishing it in one motion. “What have you been up too?”

Thamalys curled his lips into a slightly worried expression, deep wrinkles surfacing on his tired face. “One week only, eh?” reprised the Blue, slowly canting his head toward the right has she refilled her own glass. “Maybe it will be enough after all – and yes, precisely along that direction, as suddenly as possible.” He sighed, gazing at his own hands for a while, as he considered her request. “I do no enjoy that tournament, Demeter – bones are broken, blood is spilled, and for what? Pride, you will probably answer me, but I beg to differ. In any case. I will not refuse the request of a fellow Avian” || Not one you enjoy the company of that much, Little One… || cackled the Ageless Black in the Blue’s mind. The Healer had nothing to offer as a counterpoint, for once. “I will be there, you have my word”. An additional drink would have followed, before the Winged Beast collected his thoughts. “Me?” he answered almost genuinely surprised – not many cared, not in his line of duty at least. “Well…” started the Blue, gesturing toward the waitress and asking for some more lubricant to that particular conversation. He had much to tell, but a good portion of it was for no one to hear. And yet he would have pressed on, dispensing tales of faraway lands, most of them tinted with sorrow but not without a beauty he was eager to share. Only another Avian would understand his travels to the full. And thus the time passed, as the clients came and went, one after the other bringing with them yet another waft of salty sea air.

This RP is linked to: RP:Whiskey and Stitches