Three Grumpy Elves

Sandy is flopped back in her chair, relaxing. A large pie has just been finished because of COURSE she's just finished a large pie. She's got her hands behind her head, of course, eyes half-shut.

Aithil floats into the Fernwood. Literally, she floats into the place, doing her best not to touch the door on the way in. She wrinkled her nose a bit as she looked around before glancing back out the door, "You must be kidding." She mutters the words mostly to herself, "The best food in the area?" A scoff, "Probably loaded with meat and-" a glance toward Sandy, "-sugar."

She continues to float toward the bar, hovering a few inches off the ground. As she slides along, chairs too close to her are nudged out of the way by an unseen force. Her eyes glancing again toward Sandy, a sniff as she lifts her nose into the air.

It's late enough that it's notable when someone new comes in through the door, someone wearing a gray cloak tucked tightly about them to stave off the evening chill as well as the torrential rain outside. The hooded figure looks around the bar and seems to decide that they like what they see because they head immediately to the counter to order a round and something to eat to go with it. The floating figure of Aithil gets more than one look.

Then this same hooded figure takes a table near Sandy's and eyes her too briefly from beneath the cowl of the cloak. This done the figure sits down, this revealing a line of brown leather beneath the gray cloth. Nothing else however until one thin and delicate hand exits the folds of the robe to accept the food and drink brought by the waiter.

Sandy cracks open an eye and glares at her. "Oh, shit. The killjoy is here. Everyone, your good night is over! We have the Joy Inquisition over there!" She points a finger at Aithil. "Here to complain not-as-wittily as she thinks about standards and other people's business!" Jab finger! Pointy finger in her direction!

"Oh look, it's the lady who has the fashion sense of a troll and the hamfisted approach of a barbaric horde of Charneth." Aithil shoots back, SNIFF! Her nose up in the air as she turns back toward the bar. She looks over the choices, eyes gliding this way and that. Her nose wrinkled as her fears were confirmed, "How about tea. Just... just tea." She turns and starts to float in the direction of Sandy and Rhyn.

"Not like they can screw that up, right?" The elf is mumbling under her breath, a glance given to the gray cloaked one. Curiosity, but it's stolen away as she looks back to Sandy. "I noticed you /still/ aren't following the trends of proper society. Not a single ushanka in your store window." An eyeroll and she heads toward a free table.

The hood shifts from one woman to the other, but the hooded one says nothing, merely watching the two other women fight with a distinct air of... interest. Like someone waiting for a fight to break out and wondering who will win and if they can get a few rounds in also. Meanwhile the first draught of ale goes down with a lifted hand for a second.

"Pfft. You're far closer to the Charnese look, skeletal as you are. Sallow is your flesh, you know?" She shrugs her shoulders, glancing over at the other one in the hood. She picks up a few pie crumb pieces, weighing them carefully and eyeing AIthil. There is debate. IF ONLY SHE HAD A PIE TO THROW.

"Versus, what? Your look? What are you going for, a beached sea creature or maybe just a otyugh with two arms and legs? It's hard to tell these days - though at least this establishment seems inclined to keep chair around that'll support an giantborn, which explains how they support you." Aithil gives a thin-lipped smile with a narrow of her eyes, "So nice to see you, after all, now if only it would be possible to miss you waddling down the street."

The tea arrives as Aithil sits cross-legged, hovering above the chair. She picks up the - oh gods it's in a mug - carefully. Staring down at the muddy water and sniffs it before setting it back down. "Gods, they did. Not even tea... So help me." She slowly gives a little wave of her hand. The first time the table is cleaned up, the second the tea clears up.

There's the sound of something muffled from the hooded figure so close to them both, and it's really hard to make out exactly what it is, particularly when that delicate hand rises to cover what can only be assumed the figure's mouth. Because the sound is more muffled now, and... shoulders are shaking. It's either laughing or crying at this point, and considering the situation likely the former over the later. The figure lets out a rough cough to cover the noise and quickly goes to take a drink - only to realize most of the way there that the drink is gone. So the figure coughs again.

"Would you two settle down over there? Some of us are trying to enjoy a meal." Finally! Words from the figure that definitely suggest a woman beneath that hood. Her voice is light and almost musical, sharp and amused but just serious enough that it can not be taken lightly.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm supposed to be quiet while she shouts garbage," says Sandy, rolling her eyes and gesturing at Aithil again. "Little Ms. Supposedly High Standards over there. Of course, in reality, she's just looking for garbage to feel superior about to protect her fragile sense of self. Goodness knows that if she had to admit anything else was competent she might fall to pieces. Then again, a stiff breeze might do that." She has a sip of her own drink.

"Ah, so you are going for the otyugh look, since it seems you're so captivated with trashy insults." Aithil glances over toward Rhyn, "You'd have to ask the wannabe elf who still thinks fashion is dictated by whatever she can smash herself into." Another glance to Sandy, "You know... I hear they make dresses out in the Jade Islands called Mumus. They're a shapless bag of cloth, it'd be perfect for your store. You'd probably find so many options for your day-to-day wear." Aithil gives another thin-smile toward Sandy, "So nice." She picks up her, oh gods it's still a mug, of tea and looks down into it again. A pull of her mouth off to the side and she sniffs it again... A nod, sure that the magic has fully taken affect, and she sips from it. Another wrinkle of her nose, "Should've just ordered hot water." A sigh.

"UGH." The woman makes a disgusted noise before pushing back the hood of her cloak. Beneath the hood she's a beautiful woman, sylvan in appearance and her pointed ears prove that she's an elf as much as her tanned skin provides a clue as to the manner of elf she is. Though really it's the spill of crimson hair that marks her. Crimson as the dying sun, blood-stained red. It somehow matches her stormy gray-blue eyes which at the moment look more storm than blue. "I said quiet it /down/. Not harp on one another /more/."

"Well, I mean, I /am/ going to tell you to eat shit," says Sandy, cheerfully, to Aithil, when she mentions otyughs. "They're useful, unlike flashy parasites that simply natter on about their innate superiority." She has a sip. Then she kicks back in her chair again. Rhyn is eyed. "She's the harpy!" Points at Aithil.

Aithil looks back to Rhyn, a look up and down, "Ohhh, I see. Well, I can understand how you people might not quite understand the finer points." She sips at her tea, "At least you have a reason though." She smiles to Rhyn again, a little dip of her head, "So nice to see a Sil in the city. So nice."

Then a glance back to Sandy, "It's too bad you didn't learn better in a proper culture, /Sandiel/." Another sip of her tea before she sets it back down on the table and nudges the mug further away. Definitely should've just ordered hot water. And with the tea still steaming she starts to float off toward the door.

Rhyn makes a motion to the bartender to keep her food. Or rather box it up for elsewhere. She rises to her feet and walks to the counter, studiously ignoring the two women in a way that makes it very clear that she's aware of their every action. "I'll take a room while I'm at it. One in the back? Away from all this... noise." She presses a few coins across the bar and accepts her food and her room designation. Then with one final shake of her head that manages to encompass all of the room, but specifically Sandy and Aithil, she departs.

-End