Jail House Blues

Erendriel is in jail. Put into a cell the previous night with much eye rolling and sighing, she paces around a bit this morning. Arms folded, she does climb up onto a bench, and get on her toes to try to look out the high,b arred window.

A low, sullen groan sounds from one of the other nearby cells, accompanied by a shifting of blankets and a heavy sigh. "Stupid," Donna can be heard to mutter. "Worth it, but stupid..."

• sniffle* *sob* *sob* *sniffle*

The large ourch in the next cell has been sobbing quietly since he came in. Though massive, he sits quietly, knees tucked up under his chin, arms wrapped around himself, slowly rocking back and forth, ignoring those around him. The guards have looked in a few times, but let him be.

Skribbles walks into the jail, hammer on her back and dressed in her formal Priestess of Reos regalia, she strolls past the cells, perhaps looking for someone in particular. She's free...but only because she loosed the calming spell and helped put out the fire. The Ourch with the massive bruise on his chin wasn't able to say much.

Erendriel jumps and tries to grab on the ledge to look out the window, but it's too high for her. She sighs, and drops off back onto the floor. Sighing again. "BORING," she calls out, with a look in the direction of where the sniffles are coming from.

"Pipe down, Erendiel," Donna calls, "that's why it's called 'time out.' Get stuck in a corner, wait out y'time." Pushing up, she tilts her head toward the sound of sniffling, and approaches the part of her cell closest to it. "Oi," she says, much more quietly. "Why the tears?"

As Skribbles passes by, the sullen prisoner shoots the priestess a questioning look, as if to ask 'you have any idea who's crying and why?'

Skribbles walks by and looks at the prisoner before turning to find the source of the crying. She stops at the cell and looks in at the Ourch, "Hey, big man. Why the tears?"

"Oy! Slaughter! Oy!" A deeply accented voice pipes quietly from the cell of the massive ourch. "I gots Pookie for ya!"

There's a wet snort, and the sniffling stops, as the oruch looks up with wet eyes. "....Pookie?" he asks in a small voice.

"Ya didn't think I'd let Pookie git lost, did ya? Been all sorts o' missin ya. But now ya's back together, so no more tears, eh?" A tiny lutch in black parts from the shadows, holding a pink rabbit. The plush toy is almost as big as she is, ragged, missing one eye, and covered in patches.

"POOKIE!" The ourch lurches foreward, snatching up the toy and crushing it to his chest, fresh tears rolling down his face, murmuring softly to the toy. "...so scared... thought I'd lost you... never again... never never..."

Skribbles points and says, "Oh, he was....he was just missing his bunny rabbit." She calls down the cells and says, "We're all good. He was just missing his...uhm...his massive toy! His friend found his massive toy for him though."

Erendriel looks around when Donna replies. "They were so going to try to hit me," she sighs, shaking her head. Casually looking up at the stone ceiling, she shoots a ray at it, of course to no effect of any kind. "I need something. I need a Pookie."

"....Yeah I heard," Donna replies to Skribbles, chuckling to herself. "Good on you, buddy," she calls toward the direction of the shadowy Lucht, then slumps back onto her 'bed.' "An' lemme guess, Erendriel; y'decided you was gonna magic em outta thinkin' on thumpin' you, that about it?"

Skribbles shakes her head and takes out a couple of care packages from her backpack. Nothing much, just some food, drink, and a deck of playing cards. She slides it through the bars of the cell to the Ourch's and gives a wave. She slips one through Donna's bars as well and then comes to Erendriel's...and he gets a tongue followed by a rather informal, "Thppppt."

Selia pats the ourch on the arm, leaving the reunited pair to head for the cell door, closeing it softly behind her. "Aw, I couldna left Slaughter witout 'is Pookie. Jus ain't right. Right tuff when 'es working, but don't sleep right less dey tagether."

Selia's accent almost drips off her words, thick with Low Charn, but also with a stong hint of Chant and Undercommon for those who know what to listen for. Plus a splash of something weirdly exotic, though hard to place. Her hands tend to move as she talks, not quite proper Handspeech, but offering emphasis and punctuation.

Erendriel folds her arms and looks right at Skribbles. right down at Skribbles. "Come on you got under the table. You were FINE."

A few seconds after Erendriel's words a man with pale hair comes into the dungeon. He's not wearing any weapons (of course) but a sheath on either hip suggest that he usually has a pair of swords at least. He eyes the various criminals as he comes in, but makes his way rather quickly to where Erendriel's cell is. There he coughs and gives the woman an arched eyebrow. "I heard that you got into it last night so I thought I'd stop by and check to see if you're okay. I know being trapped in a dungeon isn't your idea of a good time."

Skribbles raises a finger and points it up to Erendriel, "That doesn't excuse the fact that you almost burned down that dive bar. You know how hard it is to find a really good dive bar down by the docks?! It's really hard." She thinks for a moment and says, "Well, alright, it's not really that hard. They're sort of everywhere, but that's not the point! And you singed my good work boots! I mean, they were already singed because of the forge, and that's ALSO not the point. I guess the point is....thppt." She nods again and starts handing out the care packages to other cells, passing by the pale haired man with a nod.

Selia perks an ear, moving over to eyes Erendriel though the bars. "...dat was you wot set da place on fire last night?" The little lutch stares a few moments. "Wot ya go an do sumthin like dat fer?"

Erendriel points in the general direction of the docks, looking right at Selia. "Those pirates were yelling and hitting everyone. They were about to turn on me, too, and so I got the first hit in and tried to get out. Almost did, too." She sighs, and shakes her head. "They're big and I'm small. I did what I could do." Then looking to Menel, she giggles. "Hi. Thankfully this place is much nicer than the Arcanist dungeon... I don't feel like I'm... stifled every second. But it's going to be a long week. I need... something I can burn a note into." Skribbles just gets... an exasperated sigh.

Skribbles has finished handing out her care packages and wanders off back to wherever a Goblin disappears to.

"Yeah, you an' my sister got the same reflex," Donna sighs, unwrapping her care package and sorting through. "Problem is, unless you got the right spell, you may as well be drawin' steel in the middle of a friendly bar fight, y'know? Uppin' the ante ain't often th'best way t'keep from getting a punch."

Here Donna pauses, turning over the playing cards. "Glad y'ain't sick though. Was worried 'bout that."

Hoisting herself off her bench, she sticks a hand through the bars of the cell, deck of cards wiggled between two fingers. "Here. Use these."

Selia huffs. "It were a brawl! Ya dan't go setting fire ta na brawl! Jus makes fer all sorts o' trouble. Escalation of armaments." She nods to Donna. -She- gets it.

Menel's eyes widen as he looks at Erendriel. "You did /what/?" He sounds and looks aghast, then shakes his head. "No wonder you're in jail. I thought the fire was a natural disaster caused by the alcohol and someone being less than careful during the fight. A lot of the guards were injured by that fire."

Erendriel shakes her head. "It was self defense. The pirates were hitting everyone, and the guards were useless. I defend myself, and they blame me. Figures." She folds her arms again. "If they can't protect people who just look to get food, they shouldn't blame me."

There's the sound from Donna's cell of a palm smacking a forehead. "'Defendin' yourself' is pickin' up a chair an' swingin' it into the face o' someone comin' at you. Settin' fire to the bar falls under 'overkill.' Do that, an' nobody's happy. If you don't wanna be in a brawl, don't *be* there."

Menel makes a small sound of amusement. "That's what I usually do myself. Depending on the situation. Sometimes a bar fight calls for a little fighting though." His words have the tint of fond memory. "I can't say as that I've ever landed myself in jail for it though. How are you doing down here Erendriel? Is there anything I can get for you that's allowed down here? The guard says you'll be here a while."

Erendriel giggles, and responds to Selia by pointing at a spot in the ceiling between them, and firing a little fire ray at it, between two bars. "Born that way. I wasn't born with big muscles to throw chairs, and I can't see through walls to know there's a fight inside. I even tried to talk the pirates into stopping but they laughed at me." Looking to Menel again. "A week. I could use... like a ball. Some parchment I can use to write some messages... and something sweet if you can manage it. I can pay you back with extra."

Selia huffs again, glaring for a long moment before sighing. "Ya da sort wot likes cats, or dogs?" she inquires, rummaging around in her assorted pockets.

"Sure, I think I can get you that." Menel seems to actually consider it for a moment before actually answering. Then he flashes Erendriel a grin. "I'll be happy to accept payment in sweets." He actually lets out a little laugh.

Erendriel looks to Selia, and giggles. "Cats, definitely. They... know how to do their own thing. I like that." Then to Menel. "That would be perfect. One time I tried learning how to melt sugar..."

Selia slides a couple blank sheets of mostly unrumpled paper under the cell door, along with a couple hard candies wrapped in wax paper. "Iffen ya get inta any more brawls, jus tell 'em der messin wit a sorcerer. Iffen dey still come at ya, deserve wot dey git." The little lutch turns and heads off with a wave, disappearing in moments... just not in the direction of the exit.

A few moments later, a piece of shadow detaches itself from the wall in the from of a cat, padding lightly over to Erendriel. It's inky black, more a silhouette of a cat than the real thing, but it's a fair step better than nothing.

"I'll go get those things ready for you." Menel tips his head to Erendriel politely and makes his way out of the dungeons.

-End