Girl Talk
Log Info
- Title: Girl Talk
- Emitter: Braelnoir
- Characters: Ashes, Braelnoir
- Place: A07: Fernwood Pub
- Time: Thursday, January 07, 2021, 6:44 PM, Sunday, February 28, 2021, 10:07 PM
- Summary: Ash reveals that things are quiet on the spiritual side as well, and her Tarot cards keep coming up ominous. Braelnoir asks how she's doing, the Mourner admits not well, and the two go up to her room to talk further.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Fernwood Pub *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high, vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase, winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east. An air of coziness is salvaged by keeping the pub dimly lit; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.
The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Braelnoir 5'11" 146 Lb Human Female A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver. Ashes 5'11" 177 Lb Hobgoblin Female A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Braelnoir snerks, "C'mon Spooky, let's have us some girl talk." she says, then gets to her feet, turning to regard the bartender, "Yo, Bill! Gonna take it upstairs, yeah?"
Ashlee nods, checking around to make sure she hasn't forgotten anything, then follows Braelnoir. Chippen, happy his mistress is happier, runs a few laps around her throat. She follows the merc like a ghost.
Braelnoir ascends the stair on the balls of her feet for some reason, but no one seems to think it's a bright idea to make any wolfwhistles after the pair. For.... reasons. Instead, as the Korite reaches the top, she's withdrawn her room key and handles the process to invite the Arvek inside, "C'mon in. Bed's comfy." Expecting things to take a while, she sets the scythe blade down against the wall in the corner, then settles on the battered warchest at the foot of the bed. The rest of the room is quite spartan, with weaponry, or the means to repair same, the only things of note on display.
Ashlee follows behind. She's watching Braelnoir move, but not 'watching' in a focused way, more following the shape and drifting along. She has a good hold of her satchel and looks around the room. It's empty of things, which she likes, her own room is rather empty. She sits on the bed and looks at the merc.
Brae watches her for a moment or two, "Miriam should be up here in a couple. Don't usually take long fer orders round here." An elbow props against upraised knee, cheek against the back of that folded wrist, "What's troublin' ya, luv?What's this trial business all about?"
Ashlee looks around the room. There isn't a lot to look at, which makes it a challenge to find something other than Braelnoir to stare at. She keeps looking away, at nothing, and looking back. Finally she takes Carbuncle out of her satchel and holds him close, staring at the little lizard mouth. She clips him onto one of her ears.
"A noblewoman was murdered, and a nobleman knight framed a woman and the trial was a farce of contradictions and twisting of evidence to fit their story. The dead woman's family interferred with her getting justice and claimed it was out of respect for her. She had no voice. I couldn't hear her, and her murder has gone free and the framed woman will die."
"I don't... care about living people problems. This is all a step, and the Fieu of the Tears will gather them all at the end of life and make her judgement. I shouldn't care that people can't do things right. It's expected."
Brae's eyebrows knit at the jewelry husbandry on display, but she shrugs. Maybe it's a Hob thing. Her interest on Ashes is intent as she begins to speak, a shoulder doing a quick rise-fall, "Luv... Ashlee... You ain't dealt with noble politics before I'm gettin'." She straightens a bit from her casual posture, and reaches out for her, to help her feel cared for. It's... a less refined skill than it would be for many, but it's gotten better since the Stride got tripped.
She scoots a little closer, wincing a little as she picks up a plant-based passenger in her sitting meats. Ow. A little huff in her nose and she pushes on, "When I's a merc, I done more work for this noble 'gainst that noble than -any- grandiose aims. Least two gigs were brothers pissin' in each other's stew. Th'peerage is the only thing that means anything t'fuckin' cake eaters, luv." Her brows knit again, and she now asks, "But... whattaya mean 'ya couldn't hear her'?"
Ashlee focuses on Braelnoir's face. "The dead speak to me. I hoped she would. I thought she would need someone who would listen. They kept me from sitting with her body. Guards!" Her monotone breaks on the last word, into anger. Or contempt. An exhale later, and her words are flat once more. "As if they have more respect for the dead than a Mourner. As if civic authority has any in a place of worship. It wouldn't have been tolerated in Blar, and we're the monsters."
She blinks. Her centipede uncurls from her neck and climbs halfway up her face. She seems oblivious to a huge bug on her cheek, in her hairline. He holds himself up on her piercings, taps at her face with some other legs. "I couldn't help Bethany. She might have been a noble in life but in death she deserved all the ministrations she might need. They stopped me preparing her, anyone preparing her, properly to meet the Grey Lady. It's wrong, but there was no Chord to tell them so."
Brae settles back into her former posture, though her gaze is more introspective as Ashes shows a spark of raw emotion, "I remember... when I's snakey, in that ruined house." she says quietly. Hmmm, "I... just figgered ya could just do it, wherever. Like Ghisha." Now there's a word laced with venom, but she continues calmly, trying to be comforting, "We cain't always be where we most want.... most need ta be, luv. I know that better'n most. I know how't must be eatin' atcha... What about their patsy?"
Ashlee looks down at her hands, "It's when they want to talk. I can't make them. Their patsy is going to be executed, very soon. I want to break her out, the other think more evidence will somehow save her. That improper laws must be upheld."
Her lips tighten, "I don't know her. I shouldn't care. It's more irritating than I thought, thes things out of place." A nod, the 'it's bothering me when it normally doesn't' is a familiar story.
She rises at a knock, and moves over to the door, and, hand on dagger hilt, answers the door. As it's Miriam, the merc is all smiles, and 'luvs' once more as they handle the transactions for the drinks and food. Soon enough, she turns back, arms laden with consumables and approaches Ashes, "Here, may make this go smoother."
She'll wait until they're properly situated again before going into it.
The ashen Arvec waits for the food to transfer, and then takes some of it. She holds the bowl of gunpowder chili in her lap, feels the heat of it with her hands. She concentrates on that, reminds herself she is alive and feeling things is normal. Even if she doesn't like it. She takes a spoon, then eats a spoonful and chews silently.
------ Sunday, February 28, 2021, 10:07 PM -----
Braelnoir settles back on the edge of her chest, one knee draped over the other ankle as she considers the Arvek. Her eyes track the woman's motions as she brings food to her face, "Ya know anythin' about Merkabah, luv...?" she asks softly. the Korite looks into her tankard, swirling it a little, then takes a sip, "Spent me a long time at war fer this'r that reason that weren't mine. Merkabah's where... i saw shit that bothered me.... stuff made me think more'n what was going on past victory...."
"The other goblins talked about it. I was in the the shanty town that sprung up." Ash says, setting the spoon down in her bowl. She blinks slowly, "Kulthian. Destroyed by the Spell Canon. Lots of dangerous monsters and dark tech."
Her attention is entirely on Braelnoir, watching her face. "What did you see there?"
Braelnoir 's eyes lid partway and she stares into the ripples of her beer for a moment or two. A subtle ripple along her jaw muscles, then, "Saw an' old merc ghost story called a Corpse Wagon... Merkabah spook tech..." a sigh, "Flyin' ship... story was, it took the fallen... stuffed in heavy armor and... reanimated them. Made'm move, kept'm aware, in a way that wasn't undead... slaved ta fightin' fer the city." She sips the beer again and, "I's on a mission fer the guild. We run inta the Wagon... all the scholars an' histry buffs o'Alexandria thought the Corpse Wagons were stories. Moon juice an' bullshit fer Mercs ta keep newbies up at night."
The ashen Arvec nods, slowly exhaling. Her words are flat, she sounds too much like a golem sometimes, "And it wasn't. Sometimes the ghost stories are real."
Her eyes roam, looking down at Brealnoir's beer, watching the ripples in the surface and the foam bubbles pop. "Necromancy is terrible, and that sounds like it even if it found a way around the banned spells."
Not that Kulthians accepted those bans either.
"What happened to it?"
Braelnoir smiles grimly, a short bark of laughter from the gallows, "Yeah..." sip, "We run inta one o'the Corpse Armors, the slaves." She finally looks into her eyes, something in the back of them, "After a couple sorties... after a few of us almost ended up slaves, too, includin' me, we ultimately destroyed it." She frowns, "Then Eezee... Ezil, recognized one o'the stiffs we'd dropped... realized she wasn't dead, after all, but still, aware, but enslaved ta the ship. Either way... forced ta fight fer yer enemy... kept outta the Hall ferever... that...." Her eyes lower again, "That got me deep... deep down." She looks up into the arvek's face again, "Sometimes... we're gonna run inta things's gonna get us twisted up'n ways we wouldn't expect... that's.... kinda where I's going, but I ain't no story teller. Never got me much knack fer't it anyay, not like m'sister."
"Your sister?" Ashlee asks, her thoughts immediately going to the sisters she's involved with. The one who will be executed and the one planning to stop that. Her eyes drift to Braelnoir's hair, "is hers dark?"
She looks down at her chili, back up. "The Feiu of the Tears will find a way. To collect her own. You were her help, this time. It hurts, comforting the dead. It always hurts."
"I'm not dealing with the dead this time." It still hurts. It's in her eyes. "I don't know why."
Braelnoir gives another laugh, this one good humored, "Not that kinda..." She pauses, thinks about it, then, "Sworn sister. A Sith Makar named Cryosanthia." The glance to her hair didn't go unnoticed, "Mine was black, before, well, all that happened when ya first met me. Long story..." She looks into her eyes and reaches out to lightly touch the other woman's hand, "Becuz sometimes.... th'wrong folk have too much say in shit they shouln't. i'm sorry luv."
Ashlee listens, mostly by intently staring. She looks down at the touch on her hand. "Most of the people involved in this shouldn't have any. They're ... simply terrible."
She takes a spoonful of her chili and chews it slowly, closes her eyes and shakes her head. "The courtroom was a mess. They didn't listen. I'd rather..." There's a small shrug of her shoulder. "... not feel or care at all."
Braelnoir nods and gives a sigh. "Yeah... them's usually the ones that get't, though." Brae replies softly, reaching up as she leans in, setting her cup down beside her, to try and kind of touch her shoulder, "There's plenty o'hurts.... that's true. Sometimes feelin's can muss up a solid decision..." She gazes searchingly into the Arvek's eyes, "Feelin's... that comes from the core of us... past ego, down inta th'heart o'things. Unique, an' personal ta each'v us. Gift a'the Gods if ya like, but how ya feel is yers alone an no one else's. Th'other side o'that's empty routine. gridin' wheel at the base of a windmill. More complex sometimes, got a choice here'n there, sure, but not free, not -alive-... savvy?"
to be continued...
(OOC) Braelnoir says, "looks like they're announcing more stuff. swashes aren't going to carry over" (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia says, "on TB?" (OOC)
(OOC) Braelnoir says, "yes" (OOC)
(OOC) Braelnoir says, "the panache mechanic" (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia says, "well that's more depressing" (OOC)
(OOC) Braelnoir says, "sorry :(" (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia shrugs, "TBH at this point I'm expecting they'll announce the new server and address and I'll simply not connect, and they can leave me behind as they clearly don't care." (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia says, "You, me, everyone, getting screwed out of our race and character options, for... who? These newbies that just showed up?" (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia says, "It's kind of why I was hoping to finish DEVA today, there doesn't seem much point in putting the effort in." (OOC)
(OOC) Braelnoir says, "sorry :( I didn't expect today tok play like it did" (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia says, "it's fine it'll be more meaningless XP for a char that gets shit-canned in a few months" (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia says, "thanks Cryo, now fuck off" (OOC)
(OOC) Braelnoir says, "there may be something analagous that comes up if the material works. there's mention of a duelist, along with recommendation of fighter or rogue" (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia says, "sure" (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia says, "maybe we should pause for tonight" (OOC)
(OOC) Braelnoir says, "*hugs* alright. i'm sorry, maybe i shouldn't have said anything" (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia says, "it was going to ruin some day" (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia should just get a job and forget about it all, furries, mucking (OOC)
(OOC) Cryosanthia hugs, "yeah, I'd like to stop now. continue later." (OOC)
(OOC) Braelnoir says, "ok" (OOC)