Once Upon a Jail Cell

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The cells at the Watch are often often full with various people: the usual, returning drunks, the occasional shifty halfling, and then a few Korites who appear to have a rotating door policy. One cell in particular is labeled, 'Sandy.' Visitors may stand outside the cells to speak, while being overseen by an officer.

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<Meet> You join Sandy.

Fiona has arrived.

It's Korday, Quintoos 15 20:41:50 1014. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and slack.

The sky is grey-black, without moon or star. It's hard for human eyes to see anything in the deep shadows round about, without a light. The wind is chilly.

NOBODY KNOWS THE TROUBLE THEY'VE SEEN. NOBODY KNOWS BUT...

Well, Svarshan is about to find out. In fact, Sandy is sitting in the jail cell with Myrana across the way from her in another cell. She's waiting to get bailed out.

Selia has arrived.

"...your name. Is on this. Cell." The reptile steps around the corner, accompanied by one of the guards. He wears a winter-modified version of his Am'sherian garb, with added wool lining and some sort of jacket. He takes a step forward, and grips the bars, leans forward. "Why?" he asks. His tone doesn't suggest that he expects an answer, or maybe it might. Regardless, he gives the Frumpyrana a wink before looking back at the scowling sildanyari.

"I bet I will get bailed out before you," says Myrana to Sandy from where she lies sulking and limp as a cat on the bench in her cell, one leg dangling down with a truly scandalous amount of stocking and ankle showing and one arm PINK-PINK-PINKing at the rusty chain that supports it. "Because I have repulsive business associates."

Myrana has said this just as Svar appears, of course, and then clams up, lolling her head back to blink over at him upside-down. "Oh!" Do you welcome a paladin to jail? It's not like she can put the tea on. So instead she bats an innocent look at him and then sticks her tongue out over at Sandy when he's turned back toward the other sorceress.

Children should be seen and not heard. Sneaky little halfers are heard and not seen. So it's not quite correct to say Selia is a familiar sight around the jail, but she does know most of the guards on a first name basis. Not for herself, mind you! (She doesn't get caught.) But more than a few drinking buddies need bailed out on a regular basis. "Oy! Tony! Where you at? You sober yet?"

<Meet> You offer to meet Eliathitae.

Eliathitae has arrived.

<Meet> Eliathitae joins you.

Fiona’s father always told her to visit the town jail at least once while in a city. To see where you could end up if you go wrong in your path. That is what she is doing today. She stops at the site of Sandy’s name, the occupant, and the others about. She pulls her cloak tightly amongst her and sighs. “Sandy?” Comes the young woman’s voice. “What...” She knots her brow, “Are you doing in here?” She knots her brow tighter and doesn’t step to close.

"Is good. To see you," Svarshan says to Myrana. He continues his lean against the bars a while longer. Not something wise to do, normally, but something in his posture suggests he enjoys a bit of harassment. Most sith do, poking or prodding here or there to find a weakness of some kind. The brightscale just turned his into (a horrible sense of) humor. "Though doesss not the cell smell?" he asks, and rumples his muzzle, suggesting that Sandy is naturally stinky. He winks at Myrana again, then shifts over to make room for Fiona and the lucht.

"Yes, yes it is. I do get arrested rather frequently. Is it my fault that -other- people are that stupid?" asks Sandy, eyeing Myrana. Then she adds, "This is *your fault* also," she points a finger across the way at her. "Your repulsive business associates won't save you now. Tehy're probably rifling through your things as we speak."

Selia blinks in mild susprise as she spies Svar lounging against the bars, but at least he's on the expected side of them. "Myrana? What you doin in here? Ain't anyone come ta let ya out yet?" The halfling inquires in susprise.

"Oh, and hi Sandy." No susprise there.

Fiona watches, and listens, quietly. Stepping back a bit she looks around for a shadow to blend into. Perhaps her first thoughts that Sandy is some. By the tone and comments of what appear to be regulars regarding Sandy, she too is a regular, well enough of one to have a whole cell set aside for her. “Good gods woman.” Fiona says to Sandy, “how many times do you end up in that cell?” She asks before she can stop herself. Of course as soon as she does the woman blushes a deep red. “I mean um...I...ah..Hi.” Yup great save!

"I try not to think about that part," Myrana intones more soberly, her expression souring a little at the thought of the Oxleys going through her stuff. Again. But she rallies, and sniffs. "But ho! Indeed not, nor can one be blamed for what little gnomey actors thought they heard shouted over the play by oneself, when in fact, this was an instance of shameful name-blackening and blame-shifting." Opening her eyes birdishly, she peers across at the new arrivals, especially Selia. "Oh, hello miss Selia. Are you here to pick up mister Tony?"

Yet another member of the Explorer's Guild comes into the jail. A few white-eyed Veyshanti men that were brought into custody previously needed to be spoken to by a cleric and given that Elly was part of the Explorer's Guild group that brought them in, it only seemed fitting to send her. Or so she was told. And she did what they told her. It was perplexing though. Her position and duties within the Hearthguard were quite a bit in flux since she was summoned to the Guild. She is anything but quiet, only by birtue of all of the metal and leather she wears all the time - even if her gold-fringed blue robe did take some of the sharpness off the metal-on-metal sounds. The coppery blonde stops on her way by the cell containing the two at least partially elven women, pausing and blinking her blue eyes as a familiar voice is heard.

Svarshan eyes the two inside the jail cell, and then turns to look at the blue-robed llyranesi. He opens his muzzle once. Closes it. And..."Sa. Ssseer?" he asks with a closer, thoughtful look, and then looks to Selia. Almost-grins. "That is. Supposed to be me. But." And he looks back at Sandy and Myrana, his expression. Utterly. Bland. And when Fiona speaks up, he grins. Outright grins.

Selia ahs, and nods to Svarshan before turning her focus back to Myrana. "Yeah. His wife asked me to look in as she-"

Blink.

Blink.

Looks to Svarshan again. "'Supposed to be'?"

"He is a terrible souse," Myrana loudly whispers to Selia.

Svarshan grins briefly at Selia. There's a bit of teeth to it. Not aggressively at all. More like reptile's version of a human's quirky grin, or fierce grin. He's kind of enjoying this.

SO unpaladenic!

The clearly clerical dawn elf had stopped near the cell clearly marked as "Sandy", which could mean any number of things. Maybe it was an ethnic slur she wasn't familiar with in regards to the Veyshanti. But those weren't Veyshanti inside, the accents alone weren't it. And one was a mul'niessa, no less. Eliathitae will nod, of course, to anyone who so much as looks her way, such as Svarshan. She looks at the assembled group of people, possibly trying to identify the source of the familiarity from before.

Myrana is currently draped on the chain-suspended wall bench of her cell across from Sandy's, draped like a cat that's given up on effort, or perhaps a jelly that's lost it's trademark Floating Skeleton Of Unwary Adventurer, being despondent. Or trying to be despondent. Actually she just looks a little hungover.

Sandy is indeed in her very own cell!

She gives Svarshan a dirty look and then says, flatly, "So are you going to get Myrana and I out of here? It's all *her* fault, anyways." She points a finger at her. No one is going to believe this, but she says it anyways. Selia gets a glare. "Yeah. Hi," she says.

Myrana says, "Slander slander."

Myrana sighhhs.

Myrana says, "How did my life come to this?"

Fiona is there, doing a horrible job of hiding because she doesn’t want to get too close to the cells. She looks around and then blushes. “Sorry. I just...” She sighs and then she notices the Sith’maker smiling at all of this. “Well if you are drinking I can assume that your life is going to end up in a cell period.” She offers and then blinks at her bold remark. Bravery happens on this side of the cell door apparently.

Myrana clears her throat and droops the back of her wrist over her throbbing eyes. "For Sandy it's more of a Season."

"One step at a time. Way such stuff usually works." Selia replies to Myrana, moving to open her cell door before catching herself and recalling she's not supposed to do that. "....*ahem*. So, ya know if Tony's slept it off yet? I ain't seeing him." Glanceing towards Fiona, the halfer quirks a brow. "If ya don't drink, gonna get mighty thirsty eventually."

"It isss good to see one of the Dreamer's," Svarshan says to the Seeress, solemn for a moment though a touch of the earlier smile stays with it. He relaxes against the bars, then, "I hope you have come for their sspiritual council." He sounds so solemn.

He's enjoying this so much.

And then he winks at Fiona. "I am alwaysss Daeus' servant." He's such a jackass.

Eliathitae looks utterly confused by the statement Svarshan makes to her. Perhaps it's the native language of his people, and she's not one to be impolite, so she bows her head to him and offers him the briefest of smiles. It is then that Fiona speaks again. Her head moves to the human rogue slowly. "Fiona, was it? I have been sent here to discuss some things with the Veyshanti slavers and necromancers we brought to custody. I need to have a chat . . ." and she trails off watching as Selia makes to open the cell door and then stops herself. A coppery blond eyebrow raises.

Selia maintains that locks are merely complex doorknobs.

Myrana opens a blue eye at Selia and shakes her head, but furtively crooks a finger to usher her closer. Closer! "He's still out," she whispers theatrically. "Sandy and I ran into him last night, and Sandy /clobbered/ him." SCANDAL. SCANDAL! "It was terrible. I'm a witness."

Myrana says, "She's the enemy of all life."

Svarshan looks at Selia. Firmly.

Fiona turns when her name is spoken. She nods, and looks all but relieved at the moment to step away from this. “I ahh...” she replies to Daeu’s servant thing and without any more words takes a giant step towards Eliathitae. “Yes. the Necromancers.” Normalcy that works.

Eliathitae, now that she realises OOCly what was meant, nods to Svarshan and says, "Sir. I am indeed a Hearthguard. Do you have need of anything?" She offers Fiona a small smile for a scant moment before turning her attention to Svarshan who went to the effort of greeting her by title.

Selia ponders a moment and shrugs. "Eh, Tony's tough, he'll be fine. Ain't like another break would hurt his nose none. Likely deserved the batter half of it anyways."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Sandy says, "You know. I could be out of here. At any time. I just want to be bailed out officially so I don't have an eevn larger fine." She taps her foot. Giving Svarshan, and everyoen else, a look. Then she points at Myrana and adds, "it's true."

"Jussst hoping you were here for their sspiritual counseling. It is not the first time. This has occurred. Sssvarshan Kotharrventin, of the Fathersss service." The paladin sounds so solemn. So sincere. There are invisible angel wings fluttering at his shoulder. A tiny halo at his back. And then he gives Sandy a wide-eyed look that's just as innocent and concerned as hers is. Clearly, this is going to go on a while longer. And just as clearly, they seem to be old acquaintances.

Thwarted but not discouraged just yet, Myrana gives a grunt under her breath and sits up, massaging the small of her back with white fingers after having (probably) slept a few hours on that awful bench. Such a bench is great for supporting drunken giantborn, but it's hard like a kick in the tuchus.

"She is staying really because Sandy and I are like two peas in a pod," she says, grinning wickedly. "She told me herself, she said: Myrana (she said), I want to reform like you, and learn the ways of cooking for horrible drunks and smelly orphans. Teach me your ways (she said), and also how to be much more fashionable."

Myrana uses this newfound motation to turn a little on the bench with a heavy rustle of skirts and look curiously at the two unfamiliar faces in the hall between cells.

Selia rolls her eyes and snorts in amusement. "Well, the part about horrible drunks and smelly orphans is likely true. Maybe the cooking, but doubt was -for- them." She glances from myrana to Sandy and back again. "Need for fashion's true, but reckon weren't actually spoken."

Eliathitae pauses. thinking that if Myrana wishes to cook for the unfortunate, there is always a need for volunteers in front of the Temple of Althea. She opts instead to say nothing to those in the cells and instead address the paladin before her. "I am Eliathitae, of the Hearthguard, at yours, sir Kotharrvnentin. Do these two have need of spiritual conselling? They seem to be . . . regulars." She says this word with an air of not quite contempt; more exasperation.

Fiona slowly blinks at all of this and lowers her voice to almost a not so good whisper. You know one people really don’t need to listen for. “You said something about Necromancers?’ She offers. She looks at the people in the cell. “I think they do.” She motions to the sign on Sandy’s cell. “She has a room with her name on it.”

"Myrana!" Sandy is horrified by this decleration. Then she adds, "You promised me you wouldn't tell. I guess I *won't* be teaching you how to punch those drunks in the nose so well." She pauses for a moment and then eyes Elithitae. "He's going to say 'yes', you realize. No matter what. He's always going to say 'yes'. This is because he is a paladin and that is what paladins do."

"Yes." The word comes simply enough and has the ring of truth to it. And then Svarshan grins at Sandy. Just grins at her. There maybe a few teeth showing in that muzzle. Just a little. He really IS enjoying this.

...Myrana's so going to poison his food.

Eliathitae does turn to the familiar voice she originally heard in Fiona and says, "It seems I may have more than one spiritual counselling session in me today, Fiona. Have you felt better since the combat below deck on the Marid's Dance?" as she nods to Svarshan's declaration that her counselling time has suddenly increased.

Myrana's blue eyes sparkle at Sandy's declaration-- but the good humor rather flickers out when she hears Fiona mention the Necromancers and that Sandy and she might know about them. "Hrmn... I think young miss you are confusing being in jail for drinking with being involved with corpse-fathering madmen." She flaps a hand dismissively, and though she was obviously offended at the suggestion, she doesn't seem about to get loud or angry. "Very different levels, that."

Selia nods, agreeing with Myrana. "Dangerous criminals is kept elsewhere. This area be for public disturbances, minor crimes, and Sandy."

Fiona blinks slowly. “Yes I have. I actually wanted to speak with you about that. Your temple, I owe it a tithe for your gods healing touch.” She states with a smile. “How is it best paid to your patron?” Looking to Myrana, Fiona shakes her head, “Nah, You were not attempting to kill us on the boat the other night. I don’t think you would associate with them.” Fiona knots her brow, “At least not admittedly.” She points out. Fiona looks to the Sith’Maker again. He looks to be like a cat that is toying with someone, or someones. She offers him a smile at this, “THough I think Eliathitae, You are needed here.” She motions to the two women, “Giving them guidance.”

"I'm glad to know I rank up there with the very worst mjinor annoyances," says Sandy, dryly, in response to Selia's comment. She wads up a handkerchief and throws it at Myrana. It flops menacingly into the middle of the space between them.

"Dammit," says Sandy.

"...Oh." Myrana clears her throat. "I thought you were insinuating that we dallied with necromancers. My apologies then; Sandy and I are at least never..." She watches the hanky flutter to the space precisely between their cells.

Myrana purses her lips.

Myrana says, "Well I never."

Selia blinks innocently at Myrana, not innocent at all. "Never? Really? You should. It's fun."

"No. /Never/." Myrana primly replies.

Svarshan grins again when Fiona says that. "Saaa. The gods have acted. With purpose." He then looks to Myrana. To Sandy. Then to Selia. "I am sssending the guards back here." Because the lucht is the sneaky sort! And then, "Walk in the light, Sssandy. Myrana. I will be back. To get you once the Hearthguard. Has had her say." GUILT. GUILT. GUILT!!!

And she's so poisoning his pie.

"...what? You're leaving me here with the heartguard?!" Sandy stares at Svarshan in horror. "You... you can't do that!"

Eliathitae moves to the lonely and unintentionally abandoned hankerchief in the hallway between Myrana and Sandy's cells. She bends at the knees, the creak of leather and metal only belying the armour she wears; as if the large steel shield on her back with a rose emblazoned on it wasn't enough. Her right blue leather glove grabs the wantonly discarded square of cloth and stands back to her full imposing height of fifty-four inches to hand the item to Myrana. "I believe this was originally destined for you. I am Elly, a cleric of the Temple of Althea, as you no doubt heard. My coming to your cell was unplanned, but I was hoping you could tell me the reason you are incarcerated?"

Myrana watches Svarshan go with a look of horror on her face that's only barely better disguised than Sandy's... then looks at the proferred hanky like it might contain a booger of such incredible viscosity and wrathful vengeance as to have clung tenaciously in hiding all the way from Sandy's Cell, to the very helpful hearthguard, and now lurks within the hanky.... ready to /strike/.

Then she looks up at Eliathitae. And her big blue eyes are woeful and oh-so-sorry-to-have-been-drinking-with-Sandy... and then she takes the hanky with a meek thank-you.

"It was all her fault," she says, earnestly.

Myrana does not open the hanky.

Fiona moves to stand slightly behind Eliathitae. You know that point of I am here to help, but I really don’t know what the fudge I am doing so I will look like I am just standing here doing something important. Yup. Pulled off with the expertise of someone that never really knows what they are doing.

Selia is distinctly less worried than perhaps she might be. -She- isn't accused of anything. Not offically anyway. She has an alibi, after all. Or can get one quickly.

Eliathitae offers a small smile, but if someone is observant enough, there's a slight amount of frustration to it. It cannot be too common that a cleric hears from one prisoner that it's entirely the other's fault. She doesn't so much as turn from Myrana, her own blue eyes specifically watching that hankerchief go forlorn, "I am certain 'tis even if she says the same. And you are, m'lady?"

Myrana clears her throat. "Oh ah-- no lady. I'm Myrana Jn'Rajh of uh-- well. I run the Ox Strength. And really, we just went to see a play, and things were going quite well. The play was awful though, and uh, SOMEHOW," and here Myrana's face could be found under the dictionary entry for 'maligned innocent', "SOMEHOW some words were said, some things were drank, some people were punched -by Sandy-..."

Myrana says, "I never hit anyone but my own employees, of course.""

Myrana says, "But in my defense they are the worst people imaginable."

Selia nods in agreement. "They really are some of the worst people. Not all of them, mind, some of the tempts are almost as awesome as Miss Myrana herself. But them Ox blokes is pretty nasty."

Myrana says, "The nastiest."

Selia shakes her head. "Nah. They ain't Slavers."

Myrana pauses. "...Well that's true. I'd never thought of that. So they could be worse I suppose."

Already is the blue glove at her creased forehead. The thumb and first two fingers massage a bit into her furrowed brow. Elly glances at Svarshan for a moment as if considering something, but thinks better of it and turns back to Myrana. "So, Sandy started a bar fight, and here you are."

Myrana says, "Oh no, Hearthguard."

Myrana says, "She started a Theater-fight."

Myrana says, "With actors."

"So...why are you here?" Asks Fiona.

"One of my employees was an extra in the play," says Myrana.

"She's a liar, you know," says SAndy, gesturing at Myrana. "She lies constantly. HORRIBLY. Also, there is a creepy doll with her at all times. I'm telling you. She's trouble." A finger is pointed at Myrana.

Myrana says, "I am not horrible!"

Myrana says, "YOU'RE a SOUSE!"

Eliathitae says, "Given the fact that you are both within prison cells, it would stand to reason that someone considers you each trouble."

Selia blinks. "....you got a doll? Thought you had a cat." Glanceing to elly, Selia -grins-. SHE'S not in a jail cell.

Myrana clears her throat guiltily. "I uh-- Rum is at home." She lets her feet swing above the floor. "The doll is uh. Let's not talk about the doll right now."

Fiona blinks slowly at this and looks at Eliathitae before pinching her nose. “I have a headache. Can I just crack their heads together. Its why my dad used to do..seemed to work wonders when he did it.” OR maybe just caused concussions.

Eliathitae glances over her shoulder to Sandy. This pulls her coppery blond braid over her right shoulder and has it fall down her back. "You must be Sandy. Would you be so kind as to explain the reason you are kept within this cell?" The elven woman does offer Fiona a bit of a long-suffering smile but says nothing.

"Yes. I am sure Rum is in your underwear drawer, guarding it valiantly from the Oxley panty raids it is no doubt enduring, says Sandy. Fiona nad Eliathitae are then eyed and she offers, "Because I have a habit of punching idiots."

Myrana gives Sandy a sour look, grumbling.

Eliathitae pauses for a moment, actually stunned with her mouth hanging ever so slightly open for that brief period. At least their stories somewhat corroborate? "And who did you punch, Sandy?"

Eliathitae says, "And for what reason?"

Selia frowns thoughtfully, before shaking her head to Fiona. "Cracking heads together solves problems sometimes, but other times it makes problems. Sorta why they's in here in the first place."

Fiona looks at Selia, “Well obviously they cracked the wrong heads.” Fiona points out. “I mean if they cracked the right heads. I am sure they wouldn’t be in the cells. They would be in comfy beds.” She eyes both of the women, “So...You.” she motions to Sandy. “Started a stage fight with actors. One of which was your employee?” She motions to Myrana, “I am confused how it escalated into...” she motions to both women behind cells. “Who are your parents, spouses, mates...and why aren’t they giving you the look of shame.” She actually seems confused, confounded, and a little bit of wanting to take notes on how these women are doing it and somewhat getting away with it!

"YEs. That's exactly it," says Sandy to Fiona, "Sort of. It had a fake me in it. I was justified!" She jabs a finger at Fiona and then says to Myrana, "And it was YOUR IDEA, anyways. You were all about storming the stage!"

Selia ponders a long moment. "Storming the stage almost never ends well. Most preformers can fight, and tend to do better backed into a corner like that."

Eliathitae just sighs as Sandy and Myrana continue to quarrel, with Fiona, Selia, and her attempting to make sense out of it. "Please assure me this entire conversation is not more stagework."

Myrana looks wounded. "I was being poetic! You know? Storm the stage? With-- y'know?" She gestures with crooked fingers theatrically. "Lightning?"

Fiona sighs and looks at Eliathitae, “I think..” She starts out and looks at the two. “They are only here because they choose to be right now.” She sighs. “Have you ever had that throbbing pain in your head..Right behind your eye.” She shakes her head and plops down the ground. “Now Ladies...Do you regret your ...disagreement?”

As conversation continues, a pair of heavily shod boots begin their thump! thump! thump! down the hallway. And just behind them, the click of claws. It's not too long before one of the constables emerges into view, though he's still a few yards away. He wears one of the uniforms of Alexandria, with the Rising Phoenix emblazoned upon his chest. And he's shuffling a set of keys. They clink as he walks, sorting through them.

Selia nods to Fiona. "Oh yeah, that dull throbbing ache just under your temple? Think it's something with the local water. You get used to it after a while."

"Oh yes. I am totally graced by the power of Althea's redemptive love and what not and feel the need to apologize profusely for storming the stage. And what was I supposed to think? Lightning? REALLY?" Myrana gets a look from Sandy. Just a LOOK.

Eliathitae says, "Redemption must first be sought within before it may sought without."

Eliathitae at least sounds like a cleric.

Eliathitae would if she remembered the word "be" in there anyway.

Myrana blinks, and looks over at Sandy with an expression of suprised innocence. She doesn't like that joke? It's a great joke! She pouts, and clears her throat. "I feel very bad about being put in jail," she says, meekly. "And regret that it happened at all."

Selia mehs, glancing to the approaching guard and stepping well out of the way. "Jail ain't so bad. Warm and dry, comparitively speaking, and they feed ya sometimes."

Eliathitae offers a small smile, folding her arms. The creak of leather and metal makes it clear that it isn't likely she's going to be unnoticed anywhere with this attire. "A truth, I am certain. But what of its cause, Myrana?"

Once he arrives, the constable-in-uniform looks up from the keys he'd been sorting. He finally has one in hand--a great big key with what looks to be a...placard. Along the side of it. The placard reads: 'Sandy.' The constable himself looks the cheerful sort, with a great, handlebar moustache that looks large enough that it could be declared a second person. "Hello-o, citizens! And a good day to you all. I see you're visiting our prisoners, here. Hello. I'm Constable Withers. Not related to Wethers, I assure you. And you're the Hearthguard?" he asks Elitathitae cheerfully, though this seems more a cheerful confirmation than an outright *question*!

Given the fact that Elly has a shield on her back with a rose emblazoned on it, the breastplate over her chest likewise embossed, and the gold-fringed blue robes, completely with rose embroidery over the left breast, Withers' confirmation request is met with but a nod. The chances of anyone in Alexandria not immediately pegging her as such is unlikely.

Myrana clears her throat. "Do you mean 'do I regret punching Finneous Oxley in the face'?" She fidgets. "And his sister Lilian. And their cousin Br-- oh dear." She clams up when Withers shows up and endeavors to look innocent.

Fiona looks at the two, “You both sound as if you regret being caught.” She offers and then looks up at the sound of the keys. Hey eyes narrow until the guard introduces himself and she blushes brightly. Fiona points to Elly, “thats her.”

Selia looks to Myrana. "Answer you're looking for is 'no, and would do it again given half a chance!' Least, would be my answer."

The constable is looked at. Sandy just puts a hand over her face. Eyesz the constable. Then puts her hand back over her face again. "Oh gods," she groans. "Please tell him I'm reformed and I CAN LEAVE NOW."

The constable smiles blithely at Myrana in a, 'please-get-the-crazy-woman-out-of-my-jail-cell' way and shuffles the keys again. He continues talking even as he moves. "Well, we're just about to let them out on bail, here. The Sunguard here," he nods to the silent, grumpy-looking sith'makar not too far behind him. "Requested their probation be handled by you or one of your elders at the Althean Temple. Seems all sensible to me, you know, but I wanted to get your take on it before I turned them out. I mean, they'd have to be willing to go with it. Hey, there, Sandy." He smiles cheerfully, then frowns abruptly as he notices the lucht. SUSPICIOUS! SO. SUSPICIOUS!

Selia smiles innocently. SO. VERY. INNOCENT.

Myrana clears her throat. "...Yes." She says.

Myrana then smiles. Yes! I was good! Let me out now?

Eliathitae looks to Withers and tilts her head a little to her left. "Their probation is to be handled by me or one of their elders?" She glances over her shoulder at Svarshan, as if trying to figure him out. Her arms are back at her sides, and then she looks at Withers. "I've scarcely been able to begin to understand why they are here."

Selia rolls her eyes. "They're here because you havn't let them out yet. If you had, they wouldn't be here." Obviously! Duh!

So helpful.

"We beat up some thespians," says Myrana helpfully. "Some of them were Oxleys."

Fiona looks at Eliathitae. Its that pity look.

"All the more reason for you to get to know eachother, then." The constable sounds a little...desperate. Behind that cheer. "Miss Myrana is on record here as being part of your faith. You uh--so many things to talk about. So you accept the responsibility?" DESPERATE. Big. Smile. Behind him, Svarshan rubs at the side of his muzzle. He has the grace to look abashed before half-smiling towards the poor, poor and abused Hearthguard. "I can take them. ...but. ...the Ssunguards do. We are not always so kind. Always hitting us with the frying pans, sa?" ...which. Is kind of true. Althea really is Daeus' moral compass sometimes. And Gilead's. And Eluna's. And...

"...you...what. I am not going on probation! Least of all to any ALTHEANS," says Sandy, huffing. Of course, this makes her take another look around. Slowly. Then she eyes the others and clears her throat. "...okay, fine. Just let me the hell OUT of here."

Svarshan glances at Eli's side, as though expecting to see a frying pan belted just there. And then he grins at her.

Selia blinks innocently at the constable again. "If all you need is someone to take responcibily for them, I'm willing." The halfer smiles, innocence all but oozing out her pores and dripping down to the floor in a thick puddle.... yeah, it's sorta disconcerting.

Eliathitae looks into Withers' face and his smile which has no lack of need in it. Her shoulders sag. She's definitely Althean. "You will have to forgive me, constable, for I am not used to this part of my duties. If I am to be responsible for these two . . . surely law-abiding citizens, should they happen to find themselves in the middle of another stage fight, what comes to pass then?"

Fiona looks at Selia and raises an eyebrow. “You get to knock their heads together/” she looks hopeful.

Myrana casts a look across at Sandy.

"Just report them to us, Hearthguard. We'll bring them in, you see. We uh..."

"Ssspiritual guidance," Svarshan replies. Paladins know those words. He can say those words. Yes.

"Spiritual guidance. They'd check in with you regularly for a few weeks. If they didn't report in, uh. You'd come see us. That's all." Brilliant. Sweating Smile. Glance at Myrana. "And she's Althean!" he blurts out. And then his giant ears immediately turn red.

Goes with his moustache.

Selia peers up and ponders a moment. "Don't think I could. But I'm perfectly willing to deliver any needed shin-kicks."

Eliathitae turns to look at the two incarcerated ladies, again, surely as innocent as their ability to throw and catch hankerchiefs. She takes a deep breath, closes her blue eyes, and nods at constable Withers. "I will take responsibility for them." (as much as I will likely regret this sooner rather than later, adds she mentally).

Fiona nods, “ I can help.” She offers to Eliathitae. She offers a half smile to the woman, “Two people for two people.” She shrugs, “will make things easier wouldn’t it?”

From her bench, Myrana smiles at the warden. It's a slow, not very nice smile, though she seems like she's got a joke behind her teeth and is savoring it with a sort of evil smugness.

"Spiritual Guidance? I don't need spiritual... this is the only thing standing between me and getting out of here, right?" says Sandy, after a long sigh. There is weary look on her face. An aggrieved look on her face. One that says, 'I DO NOT DESERVE THIS'. 5r

Except for the part where she actually does.

The constable looks as though rainbows just farted kittens. "Wonderful!" And then to Sandy, "We had the key engraved too, you know." And then just-like-that, he palms the key (and the key DOES have a little plaque on it; it reads 'SANDY'). "Well, ladies. Check in with the Hearthguard here every three days. Or I'll have to see you again!" PLEASE. PLEASE CHECK IN WITH THE HEARTHGUARD. Bigsmile. BIG. *moustachetwitch*

Eliathitae takes a deep, shaky breath as she looks at her two new charges - whom she doesn't know are even part of the Explorer's Guild yet. Won't THAT be funny when THAT happens. "I am often found at either the Soldier's Defense or the Temple of Althea. Many of the . . . less fortunate know me as Elly. Most seem to have little trouble finding me. I pray you two may be on your best behaviour, especially when it comes to theatre."

With that, the poor constable jobs the key into the lock, and the gate...swings open.

And then. He's gone.

Because there's probably some paperwork to do with this, you know.

Fiona looks at Elly, “If you need help just say.” she says as she gets up. “I should head back home and to bed...” She lets out a soft yawn. “This has worn me out.”

Selia waits a moment, then shrugs. "Eh, if sounds of keys didn't rouse Tony, reckon he ain't getting up any time soon. Anyway, who's up for a round of drinks?"

Eliathitae pauses, murmuring under her breath in sildanyari that she's never been the type to have drinks and has to probably report to the temple in regards to Sandy and Myrana.

Svarshan rubs at the side of his muzzle, and then looks over. "If you need. Assistance," to the Hearthguard. And then just grins at Myrana. And Sandy.

He's so going to end up with a poisoned pie.

To Fiona and Selia, "Sa. Both. Sssound. Good."

"Fine, fine. It's a 'yes'. I accept the terms," mutters Sandy, blandly, under her breath. She pinches the bridge of her nose. "It's ACCEPTABLE."

Selia eyes Svar with a frown. "Don't drink while you're alseep. Ain't never seen that end well."

Fiona nods and moves to head out. “Be well...” she calls behind her as she heads home.

Myrana goes OOC.

Myrana has left.

Eliathitae goes OOC.

Eliathitae has left.

Fiona goes OOC.

Fiona has left.