Songs and Strange Boxes

Late Evening, TarRaCe

The fire was warm and the mood was high, as it tended to be the longer hours went. Especially when the brew was on special, and the cook had particularly outdone themselves on the today's menu. A bit of music and dance never hurt, either. With waiters wandering in and out to serve the customers in every way possible, one of them had occupied one of the more out of the way tables, his ruddy scaled skin carrying a moist sheen.

Aelwyn, taking a break from his shift in the baths, had an intent stare towards the candle in the center of his table. His white waiter's shirt was on the back of the chair beside him - it did very little good for him within the baths after all - which meant that the faint scars from his multiple getting-smacked-abouts were particularly visible. And poignantly glistening, like one ruddy sith-makar does.

The flame in the center of the table takes the glaring with warm grace - until a finger slides into it and slowly, the Dragoon begins to coax it up and higher, letting his fingers bath and play with the little flame. Red ribbons were spread across the table.

"You really can't resist the draw of the flame, can you?" A familiar voice carries over the din of the bath house. Rune, hair freshly washed and hanging in damp strands around her face, approaches Aelwyn's table with a tankard of ale in one hand. She's dressed remarkably casually, with just trousers and a sleeveless shirt which shows off her newly acquired white scars on one shoulder. Two pinpoints, like fangs had pierced her flesh.

"I would have expected to see you out dancing, or enjoying the revalrie." She raises her eyebrows, the rogue sliding into a seat at his table without so much as asking if he minds. She slides a bag down onto an empty chair beside her, one that seems to be filled with rolled parchment.

Aelwyn is visibly knocked out of his thoughts; his fingers still for a moment, before he clutches the flame. The wisps of flame flicker out a moment as he squeezes gently - but then the candle remains as ignorant as always. "Ah, tch." His eyes flicker up and down along her body. "This one could barely resist the bath wherein she lay - how could this one resist the kiss of warmth?"  He rumbles in amusement. "Cannot resist too many temptations, lest one is left cold." The ruddy sith-makar was still wearing his black loincloth-slash-waiter's apron, even if it was lowhung and clinging onto his thighs from all the moisture from the baths. He did not seem to mind. And it also seemed he didn't manage to resist the baths completely.

The ruddy sith-makar leans away from the table to give her space, instead stretching out his body sinuously. "Ah, it isn't quite this one's mood." He glances towards the stage and the crowd in front of it a moment, "Too much of..." He gives a vague gesture of his hand in the air, before turning his attention back towards the rogue. "Neither has she come prepared with dance and song - or has she come to regale us with her tales of might and valor?" He teases, glancing at the backpack full of scrolls.

As someone who is very much not immune to fire, there is always a sort of wonder at the Makari who seem to be able to avoid much of its bite. Rune tilts her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "Honestly, I would prefer a cold shower, rather than the heat these days. It's been sweltering outside." That may, very well, explain why she is still somewhat damp, herself. The air tends to make lingering moisture on the skin and hair have a cooling effect.

"Poor you, having to resist all the temptations." She teases. As he stretches out, then motions over towards the stage, Rune's blue eyes follow the motion. "I thought you would have enjoyed basking in the limelight." She notes, one brow raised.

As he mentions her coming ill-prepared for dance or song, Rune plucks out one of the rolled bits of parchment, "Actually, these are songs. I've... been working with Cor'lana on writing one. A duet, with some instrumental accompaniment." On the page, there is a series of notations for different parts, though the words seem to have not yet been copied over. "I needed a break... and a drink."

So Rune lifts the tankard to her lips and drinks deeply.

Aelwyn did enjoy basking in the limelight. Taking each of those ribbons on the table, he begins to deftly tie them around his horns. Some of them ragged, some of them fresh; and some are neatly folded and put away. His orange eyes carry a strange look at her implied question, but he gives his head a shake. "Sometimes, it is better to step from the light, is it not?" He finally suffices to say, his lips then spreading sideways as he leans forward onto his hand. "Some songs revel in the mystery of not knowing."

"Should this one ask for ice? This one knows few tricks to..." There's a pause, click of his tongue as he considers. "'Cool' oneself. It is very popular with this one's massages." He flicks his tongue out with a playful wiggle.

Her parchments get a renewed interest from him and he attempts to take a look at them - before he promptly gives up, since he had no idea how to read any music. "Being a bard is a very thirsty work, this one has noticed." His tail sneaks under the table to tap the rogue on her ankles. "Now what has given to her this creative outlet?"

"I don't know, sometimes I spend too much time in the shadows, myself." Rune draws a hand into beneath the table, then brings it back into view with a trail of shadowy whisps clinging to her fingers which quickly fades off like smoke.

"One of these days, I should really take you up on one of those massages." Rune sets her tankard down and then reaches over to rotate her tattooed shoulder where the two fang-scars now show against her skin. "I've been hunched over, or sprawled out on Cor'lana's couch for the past few days trying to work this out, so my spine is not happy with me."

Rune smirks, "I don't know that I'll ever live up to the title of 'Bard', but sometimes you need to step out of your comfort zone a little." Tracing a finger along the notated music, the rogue sighs ever so softly. "It's... complicated. Long and short of it is, we're writing a song to trade to a Fey being who is a patron of the arts. In exchange, we're hoping to get information on how I can free another Fey from the grief and agony of being separated from their beloved."

It all sounds very much like 'FeyBS (tm)', but what does any of that have to do with Rune? "And... in the process, somehow complete the fate my mother had planned for me, and free her spirit from being trapped forever in a timeloop."

She had said it was complicated...

The sith-makar holds up his fingers, clenching an imaginary ice cube. "Placed right besides her spine. Slowly slid down." He rumbles. "When the shock subsides - slide in deep and push," His fingers spread and he pushes in with his thumb, slowly sucking in breathing. "Feeling every single bit..." Thumb rocks. "Give in."

Then Aelwyn lowers his hand and tilts his head. "And then this one supposes he could start the massage." His teeth flash in that eerie looking grin of his.

Her display of shadows gains curiosity from him, and he visibly holds back his tongue. "Fire and shadow, which one burns the -" He takes in a deep breath. "Ah, tch. Perhaps a little too familiar dance between the two." His eyes glance towards those wisps of shadow though, obviously curious.

The story makes the Dragoon somber up at least for the moment, listening in. "Hmmh, why do such pretty pointy ears carry such grimsome burdens?" That forked tongue flickers out, as he slides his hand over his arm. "Yet a song does not seem a bad trade for what she is offered, it sounds like." A tilt of his head. "It sounds nearly a steal."

Looking across the table, Rune's lips shift into an amused smirk. "Mmm." Obivously, the mental image is not something she is immune to, but the half-sil does give a faintly bemused laugh, "Sounds like something you'd enjoy quite a lot, too." She offers him a wink, and then a soft sigh, "Unfortunately, I'm not sure I have the time for it. I promised I'd return to finish the song today."

As his eyes follow the shift of whispy shadow, it is gone almost as quickly as it came. "Firelight creates flickering shadows." Rune replies, "Though, this is just one particular oddity of my ressurection that I'm still getting used to."

The comment about 'burdens' gets a soft laugh. "If I understand even half of it right... I was chosen for this." Her brows furrow, "Not that anyone has ever given me a choice in the matter." Oh, she could choose simply not to follow this path. However, in abandoning it, and this last piece of her mother... she would be losing a part of herself in the process.

"Honestly, I'm just hoping we can trade for some information on what our next steps are. I... haven't a clue how to save a Fey being from her own grief and loss." Rune's hand goes to the necklace she always wears, toying iwth the edge of it with her thumb. "Shit, I barely deal with my own most of the time."

Aelwyn lets out a click of disappointment, but still he's grinning widely as he spreads his arms. "This one is an equal opportunity enjoyer - what is pleasure if not pleasure shared?" Another tap of his tail hits her ankles from under the table. "Do not work so hard, it is bad for one's body. All that tension, what is this one to do?" Another flick of his tongue.

The Dragoon leans his head forward onto his hand again, as he listens in on her. "Tch, all these destinies and fates - stories written beforehand. Woven tapestry with Twin and Lava; perhaps eventually the fabric loosens and falls." He takes in a deep breath and leans back onto his chair.

There's obvious flexing of his toned body, as he cheekily grins. One of his ribbons is pulled free from his horns and he rubs it between his fingers, looking down onto it. "This one has learned the best way to give up the past is to accept the shifting sands. So many cities, so many friends, so many lost loves - one can bury the heart, or let the sands polish one's scales furthermore."

Another pause.

"This one recommends a sand bath. Very good on the skin after rough fight." Another flash of teeth - but hey, one had to ply one's trade!

"I... wouldn't know too much about that, to be honest." A hint of color shows on Rune's freckled cheeks as she shakes her head slightly, "Took me mulitple years and dying once to do anything physical with Harkashan. Never even got to the kissing stage with Jacob before he disappeared." Rune lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "I'm a fair bit more sheltered than most."

Even so, she does seem to enjoy the teasing banter, following the movement as he plicks one of the ribbons from his horns. Her pointed ears seem to be focused on him, listening. "Seems a bit of a lonely way of looking at it." She admits. "Though, I admit you do shine more brightly than most of your kin." Her head tilts, offering that much.

"As for fate, it... seems like mine was woven before I was even born." She makes her own sort of 'tch' sound that echos Aelwyn's own. "In some ways, it scares me... in others, at least I know what path to take."

Then, she looks over towards Aelwyn, "Seems like you may have your own opinions on the matter, though." She had noted that sigh and his negative way of seeing things.

"Most of this one's kin?" Aelwyn asks, seeming nearly offended. "Hmmh, this one should get the scale polishing oil Lava is using, is that it?" There's another amused rumble as his tail sways under the table. "Ah, those innocent pointy ears - so gnawable." By happenstance, he stretches his arms behind his head, stretching out his sinuously built body. "It is her fortune she had a great teacher, this one is sure." Another playful grin.

The rest of his fresh and worn red ribbons, some of them ornate and some of them more plain, are toyed by the fingers dangling above his head. "It is not very lonely - every stop on the caravan is new opportunity to find someone new, is it not?" He responds, tilting his head curiously. "Yet, when one finally has to step outside - that can be a lonely moment."

A ribbon is flicked at her, in near accusotary manner. "This one wonders, how she will feel, by the end of it all." A slow, tilted grin spreads across his sharp teeth. "Release, is usually followed by a moment of emptiness." A moment passes, and there's another deep breath taken. His tail though, continues to playfully tap at her feet. "This one carries no opinions on her predicament - none this would share. Unless Twin really came hunting for them. Then perhaps this one can trade one for the other."

"What can I say? I'm a little bit biased." Rune replies, raising her eyebrows offering the ruddy-scaled Makari a wink. "As for if I've had a good teacher or not, who knows." Her tattooed shoulder lifts again, as if not concerned. "We don't exactly talk about former partners, or future ones." She does, however, reach out to tap at the end of his nose with a finger. "I take my gnawability as a compliment."

Then, her head tilts slightly, obviously curious about his way of looking at the world. It is very Makari, however much he may not find natural affinity to his own people's culture. "See, I prefer the other way around. I like having the same, dependable set of arms to fold myself into every night. It's safety, home. At least to me." She doesn't sound judgemental about it at all, though. "If I'm going to invest my heart into someone, I prefer more than a one night stand."

And then, that ribbon is flicked towards her. She scrunches her nose and then plucks it up from where it landed across her fingers, toying with it, moving the frabric between her fingers. Her foot shifts a little, too, nudging his tail. "Depends on the type of release, I suppose." She answers, her expression softening, "I know nothing I do in regards to the Fae will change that my mother is gone. Still, if this is what she wanted me to do, it seems like a fair trade for the ten years I got with her." Her lip quirks, "If you're talking about the other kind of release... let's just say I don't have that problem."

She does, however, tilt her head questioningly. "Not sure what kind of trade you're looking for there."

Home. Safety.

Enough words to make any excessively flamboyant Makari to falter - though first, he crunches up his nose at the boop. At least it wasn't someone biting onto his horns. The moment of silence caused by her words lasts yet but a moment, before he leans forward with that smile of his playing on his face. "One night stand - no, this one carries his investment for all to see." He reaches out and slides his finger against the fabric she was holding. "Perhaps this is not the arms this one will sleep in tonight." Another playful smile from his face, as his tail coils around her calf, squeezing lightly.

Finger sliding away, his hand falls down. Lightly, he flicks with the candle flame again. "... she did have a mother. That is special on its own, this one has been told." He leans his head against his other hand, looking at her with his orange slit pupils. "Problem for a problem, was the barter. Though this one supposes one cannot trade solution for a solution."

Tongue flicks out.

"Just anxious tension for tension, watching her body glisten."

At times, Rune truly cannot read exactly what lies behind Aelwyn's sometimes enigmatic way of speaking to her. The slight falter only draws a twitch of one of her ears as she watches him, her eyes looking from him to where his hand slides along the same fabric that she had been fidgeting with. Lightly, she moves her own digits to slip it between his fingers. "I think the only arms I'll be sleeping between tonight, are the ones that belong to Cor'lana's couch." The half-sil muses, offering a soft shake of her head.

"I already talk to you about my problems, because you're someone I care about and I find that sharing burdens eases them." Rune tilts her head slightly, "Though I do wish you would speak more of what weighs on you." Though she may not know the truth of it, there is a suspicion that more lies beyond his flirty demeanor.

She seems perfectly accepting of the coil of his tail, but with a quirk of her lips, she offers, "As for sharing anyone else's arms, that's not my call alone. You'd have to have a word with lava-boy on that."

The piece of ribbon is accepted and he straightens it out in front of her. Then he slides another from his horns; with a little toying, he binds the two together. "Twin and Lava." He rumbles. "Tch, the dance of hearts is ever so complicated, yet pleasurable." The Dragoon then leans back and ties up the now bound ribbons by his horns once again, before stretching out luxuriously in front of her. The ribbons were fresh and new, though already touch worn; but not as much as some of them oare. One of the larger ones was even patched up. "Would she be intimidated if this one did?" He asks with a playful flick of his tongue. "Or excited?"

Twisting his lips at her implied question, there's a significant change of his mood. Glancing around the TarRaCe and the merriment that was going on, he takes his time weighing the situation. Finally, he turns to look at her, and with a distinct and heavily accented makari tongue, he says "There is a jester in town," A pause, "And I do not know what it means."

The half-sil's blue eyes watch the binding of the two ribbons, then the way he decorates them into his horns. It does offer some sort of insight, that they might represent people. Each one an individual he has known, perhaps? There is that curiousity there from Rune, that need to know the stories that others carry about themselves. And yet, she hesitates to ask directly.

Instead, she answers the question that he asks with a soft laugh, "Intimidated... no. Excited... in part." Rune offers, and then elaborates, "Anxious..." Rune adds, her voice a bit softer at that. Then, with a lift of her tattooed shoulder, she adds, "I've told you, I'm not exactly experienced in any of that. Other than Hark, that is."

And her cheeks are certainly flushed at that bit of conversation. So, the rogue clears her throat and sits up a bit more fully, rolling one of her parchment scrolls up and tucking it into her bag.

However, the comment causes Rune to look back, brow raised, "Jester?"

Aelwyn's tail climbs higher up along her leg; squeezing and caressing her calf. "She speaks as if it were something to avoid," The Dragoon leans in over the fire. "When all this one can think of is the excitement she would have; the risk of unknown suffusing her body." He whispers with strong, vibrant growling voice. Spreading his teeth, he leans back down onto his seat and lets his tail slowly relax. It was obvious he cherished the flushed look on her face.

There is a wave of his hand then, as if to dispel the heat from the conversation. "/Crimson/ jester." He clarifies, then looks away from her. His orange eyes pointedly roll over the crowd for a moment, before returning to her. A longer pause, then he flashes his teeth at her. "Perhaps just someone with a killer fashion sense, yes?"

"Not to avoid, just... not something I'm used to." Rune answers, her leg giving a small wiggle at the sensation. However, she quickly gives him an almost accusing look, "Listen, I have to sit and work on music with Cor'lana, how about not trying to get me hot and bothered beforehand, yeah?" Her lips press together, but it's obvious she isn't actually upset. "Her whole damn family may be hot as fuck, and that would be a really uncomfortable evening for me."

And then, he clarifies on the jester portion and Rune stills slightly. "This has to do with that weird box, doesn't it?" Her flustered behavior seems to ebb quickly as she folds her hands together. "The weird quest where we had to deal with the Misfit Maurauders and everything got super bloody at the end?"

Aelwyn lets out a rumbling sound and hoists his hands up in the air, as if caught. "This one is guilty." He twists his lips, glancing over towards the bar. "Cold water it is." He lets out... though with a bit of worried caution in his voice. He gives her ankles a light slap with his tail, before it withdraws. "Though this one thinks the music can only be improved with a little twist to it." He flicks his tongue out.

At the mention of the box, his expression visibly grows long. "Yes, the box..." He takes in a deep breath. "This one doesn't know much about the box, but this one did take it from a ship long ago. With Ribbon's help." He gives her another longer look, as if waiting for her to chime in. "Misfit Marauders? Some kind of outfit?"

Rune takes the opportunity to take a deep drink from her tankard, because sometimes you need some inebriation to be able to handle a situation. "It's not going to be /that/ kind of music."

Then, her finger toying at the lip of the tankard, Rune seems to consider what she remembers of the encounter with the box. "Musicians, or at least they were before they got mixed up in that mess. Their leader ended up quite dead at the end of our encounter with the box. He seemed... to have broken some kind of deal with the jester in question."

Looking across at the ruddy-scaled Makari, her brows seem to furrow with concern, "There was also a group that seemed... possibly compelled to play music, and they just exploded into a bloody mess afterwards, too. We were... compelled to sing and dance and perform."

Aelwyn rumbles in amusement at her reaction, but he then grows quiet as she describes the encounter.

"... this one did struggle to get paid for the job, yes." The draconian slides his hand along his head and then his horns. It seemed he was genuinely lost. "A box that forces one to perform to death? Tch, Ribbon leaves out the best details." He gives a light rumble, that did not sound amused at all. "Yet it sounds valuable to someone. Perhaps the jester just..."

There's a pause, and then he lifts his eyes to look at her. "Sometimes the fabric of our purpose does become quite stifling, does it not?" He lets out a heavy, tired sounding rumble. "Twin should keep this close to her shadow."

"There seemed to be some sort of command associated with it against violence. It made it quite difficult to be able to do anything outside of just feeding people a knuckle sandwich." Rune's proficiency with a blade is well known, but she has no such renown with her fists. "Thankfully, I'm not bad with dancing, or using my voice if I have to."

Then, with a pause, she bites at her lower lip, "Slix did seem to suggest that being around the box has weird effects. Not sure if it's always music, but it was for us."

As he mentions the fabric of purpose, Rune can't help but quirk her lip, "True, but it's not always appropriate to walk around naked." The rogue does incline her head, though, seeming all too willing to accept that this may not be a simple matter.

"If you need help with it, the box, the jester, whatever it might be. You know we'll be there."

"Cannot walk naked? Says who?" Aelwyn asks, twisting his lips, glances towards the bar. He takes in a deep breath. "... this one cedes the point." At least he hasn't been water bottled all over yet.

Orange eyes turning back towards her, he twists his lips. "This one feels he has said too much. Words can be deadly things." He gives a pointed stare towards her. "She should stay safe." There's another set of ruminating though as he mulls over the contents of the box - but eventually, he shakes his head. One mystery at a time.

Straightening to a stand, he leans forward onto the table. "Since we've shed so much of our burden, will she join this one for the dance?" He asks, sharply grinning at her. "Or shall this one bring her ice water?"

Rune just props her chin lightly with her hand, raising her eyebrows rather than actually answering that first question.

However, his caution does have her head canting slightly. She seems to decide better of trying to push the matter, though. Perhaps there is more danger to the situation than she knows. "I'll be careful."

Then, as he rises, Rune seems to consider the dregs of her drink and tips it back, downing it before grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulder with a crinkle of parchment before she rises. "I think I'll be alright, but I'll have to owe you the dance for later. I need to get over to see Cor'lana before she falls asleep thinking I'm not coming."

Aelwyn straightens and tilts his head, twisting his lips in disappointment. "Tch, one of these nights." The Dragoon tells her, in near threatening fashion. "This one will have her dance."

With a grin, he bumps her lightly with his hips. "May the skies bless her and her survival in that household." He rumbles in amusement. "... and may the song be what Twin needs." He bows his head then, in more sign of respect.

Straightening, he picks up his shirt off the chair and bows. "Come again, we do our best to serve." The draconian flashes another toothy grin, before he disappears into the crowd.