Ripples in the river

[-Dory]

Quite pleased with herself, Amitiel practically skipped through the hall. She had a friend! A -Lady- friend! A lady friend that didn't turn her away at the first hint of fear! She had lent her a dress, even though she didn't really need it, and accepted the clip she had offered in return! She was on top of the world! She had a friend!

Bounding down the stairs, she came around the banister with a tiny twirl, and stopped dead-- eyes flicking conspicuously one way and then the other as she remembered that the bar contained people-- people who did not know that she had a friend, and sucked in a deep breath.

It was a little late to gather her composure, but she did so very quickly-- lifting her chin in to the sharp jut she remembered her childhood tutor assuming when she had dragged down the bookcases, or made the ballroom tables dance, or snuck out of the manor to watch her father duel, or threw clumps of what used to be a flower garden at her face, or...

Not much had changed, had it? Sober might not have been the word.

She swished back around to table-- very gracefully, she thought, though she couldn't quite seem to get her steps flat unless she was skipping, and a couple of the chairs she bumped in to might have disagreed.

"The wonderful Lady Davina will be joining us momentarily." She announced gaily as she reached her chair, clasping her hands quite officially behind her back, and pausing to regard Sir Sonnet in particular. "I managed to convince her to put on a dress, but..." She trailed off, eyes glittering with mischief, "I'm not telling you which one!"

She looked certain to stick out her tongue, but she simply twirled back around the chair to take her seat, and regard the whiskey glass in silence.

"It's easier the second time, right?" Reaching for the glass, she paused to regard the gentlemen, looking like a completely different person-- this one much younger, vulnerable, and afraid.

All the same, she didn't exactly wait for an answer before she resolved to find out for herself, grabbed the glass, and knocked back another swallow.

Easier. But not by much. She still wound up gasping, and trying to beat the shit out of the table.

[-Davina]

Sonnets eyes twinkled a little as he studied Amitel's walk back to the table despite his concern about Davina. His eyebrow lifted and he refrained from pointing out that Davina always wore a gown because the red head seemed so incredibly proud of herself. He saw bits of the angel in the girl and was pleased the two seemed to click, maybe he could convince her to travel with them... Maybe it would bring his female back to him.

Davina appeared and his breath caught, even though she had lost weight she was still lovely. There was a gift of genes but it was the heart that beat inside of her that made her glow. He kicked Gerrard lightly under the table and muttered under his breath "get these two a chair."

Davina came down and moved to thread an arm through Amitel's, leaning close as though to gain some kind of balance for them both. You've made me feel so lovely. We should do this again when we go to Ascantha. Hopefully my momma will be home again and maybe you could stay with me?

[-Luthe]

Gerrard felt the kick about four and a half seconds after it had actually happened, and though drunk, he was absholutely, fully aware that he felt the kick after it happened by about four and a half seconds. He explained the delayed sensation due to a strange power that he had to distort time. You shee, Gerrard could bend the passage of seconds pretty drastically when he had had enough to drink. His stomach opened up a portal that just pulled in secondsh when they melted into his beer or booze. Metled, like clocks in an oven... Wax clocks. Why anyone would make a clock out of wax hell if he knew how when the thing was was made one. Hell if making them did anyone any good, either. Clock makers were bastards, anyway. Salty bastards that made too much money and only caused good people grief for being late!

When time finally caught up to him - 'cause Gerrard moved too fast for his own brain to follow when he was drunk - he rrrrrolled his suddenly very heavy cranium around to look at Sonny. One of his eyes was actually looking off in a different direction, watching the ladies. Yeah, handy tricks were dandy tricks handy... Trips...

Augh. Head was so heavy, and eye like little lead balls. He looked at Sonny for about four and a half more seconds before his words and the rest of the world caught up again, and the intended shtatement came out-

"WHHAd'ya mean ONE chair? You Speckt her to ssssit on d'the lap? They need two!"

He was about to execute the most fantastic display of acrobatics that he'd ever performed in real life. In his head, this all totally worked. He'd spin sideways from his chair, flutter it around on one leg, then offer it to Davina. The second chair he'd give a good stout shove with his leg, and it would slide across the table to Sonny, catch the back on the edge of the table just before tipping over, and offer the lady Amitiel a nice, sturdy pre-reclined place to plant her butt.

What actually happened was Gerrard braced his elbow against the table, turned sideways in his chair, leaned back, and flung his legs into the empty chair next to his. This caused it to crash over, his legs to get tangled and go with it, HIS butt to slide out, and him to become hammocked between the two. That ended with a total collapse of the chair-Gerrard-chair structure, and him looking up wondering how fantastically everything had turned out, and waiting for reality to catch his awesomeness.

"LADIES!! Take Have a sheet!"

Then at Sonny on the other side of the table, because dragons liked to hide behind tables!, with a sudden urgency that only another man could understand-

"I have to take a leak."

[-Dory]

Amitiel smiled brightly at the lady coming down the stairs, and replaced her drink gingerly on the table. The room around her was beginning to spin, and she gave a tiny burp-- mistakable as a hiccup, by anyone who wasn't her, and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

"Excuse me." She murmured, and looked at Lady Davina again.

You've made me feel so lovely. We should do this again when we go to Ascantha. Hopefully my momma will be home again and maybe you could stay with me?

She blinked at her stupidly, mouth flapping for a moment before her eyes flickered back toward Sir Sonnet, and Sir Gerrard's flailing for chairs.

"...But... I've already got a chair." She mentioned sheepishly, and giggled. The gentleman was on the floor; but the Lady's words...

...She didn't know about Ascantha.

You are very lovely. Emerald eyes trailing reluctantly back toward her, she considered the still mostly full whiskey glass she had only just released from her grasp. Suddenly she thought she would have to drink very much more, still, to bring the conclusion of her response to light.

She hated to cause pain, but she hated lying just as much. Even the little white lie-- that she needed a change of clothing-- had nearly torn her conscience to shreds. Her saving grace, in that moment, had been the Lady's enthusiasm-- in this one, it was the humor of Sir Gerrard's intoxication.

Her eyes skittered sharply away, and she cleared her throat uncomfortably.

Three quarters of a whiskey glass remaining, one extra chair-- why? The table was of a sturdy design, not exactly high class, but fitting of an inn and pub designed to cater to every manner of living being-- the kind no one ever cried about when it got broken. It had to be, if it and the array of others like it were meant to survive the bustling crowd around her; a crowd which more consisted of travelers than any real semblance of locale, form or fauna-- which was probably a large portion of the reason that all of this felt suddenly so very unreal. One of the people at the table behind her-- she didn't very much care to take a look-- was pointing and laughing at the felled man-- because she was very likely to slap him... he wasn't far behind, and had no right to laugh-- and trying to get his companion-- much more interested in complaining about the rising cost of Ardanian grain-- to take a look. To her left, someone made a crude joke, which it seemed that a good portion of the room found hilarious, but actually it was just a large enough group being obtuse enough to drown out the intelligent conversation on the right.

She'd drive herself mad, this way.

I think Sir Gerrard is -very- drunk.

Her eye began to twitch, and she grabbed the glass.

The scent of cigar smoke accompanied the third, and most likely final, swig of alcohol; and three quarters became half. She eyed Sir Sonnet wryly as her hand lowered the glass without so much as a tremor, and she tilted her head to one side. He was the only part that didn't quite seem to fit.

Since the moment she had seen him, he had shown himself to be such a gentleman, if reserved enough to have escaped her notice at moments at a time. She wouldn't have said that he'd put her off, but he hadn't exactly seemed heartbroken to see her pressured in to the automatic denial of a child... nor to see her go; until the Lady had come downstairs. It had been in that, precise, moment that his behavior had changed-- if only enough to explain a situation, but was that because he pined for her the way he so obviously did; was it because he didn't have the heart to shatter the delusions that were killing her... or did he just. Enjoy. Holding. The key?

It was a sad state of affairs when a Lady had to do a 'gentleman's job.

"I have to take a leak."

Because he was drunk, because he'd been under the impression that they were leaving.

"You should help him." She stated in that no nonsense, 'get thee to a nunnery' tone of voice which every Lady had perfected, and turned toward Lady Davina.

Would you like a drink? She offered up her glass.

[-Davina]

Sonnet had only focused on the dark haired beauty and missed almost all of the antics until Amitel's voice broke through. It only took one glance to have Sonnet sighing and grabbing the larger man effortlessly from his precarious perch. The man was easily several inches taller and probably heavier but Sonnet's human form masked a dragon of massive size, it might have been small for a male but it was inhuman in strength. He plucked Gerrard up like he was a piece of cloth and wrapped an arm in a brotherly fashion around the larger mans waist then half drug half walked him to the nearest bathroom facility. Men's bathrooms were a dicey lot and Sonnet went for what worked, dumping the man gently into a stall rather than risking having to see the guys junk... He looked back in time to see it and frowned, humans were very small... Pity lit Sonnet's gaze as he quickly averted his eyes, he was going to look out for the little fellow. "Drinks are on me my man, as long as we travel together I've got your back."

Davina watched with a silly smile as her dragon seemed to effortlessly lift the larger man and head off with him before she grabbed Amitel in another hug then plopped into Sonnet's emptied chair.
Tonight we toast to new friendships! She tossed back what was in Sonnet's glass and as soon as the whiskey hit her tongue made a face before gamely swallowing it and sending a raised eyebrow at Amtiel. This is horrible, why do people do this? The heat that had scored her throat mellowed as it hit her belly and her eyes went wide as understanding hit, this felt pretty good.

[-Luthe]

"Shreeel speshul thing tuh..." He belched and unzipped his pants, finding himself in a stall instead of at the bar table. He didn't remember getting here, but Sonny was apparently doing the manly duty and helping a brother out. Maybe this durg - dragn - dragman washn't sho bad. Mebe anjils were okay, and giant dog wolfves.

"T-halp buy a guy's booze." He had no idea that Sonny was doing it as a favor to him, the man with the smaller penis. Dragons probably had enormous penises. Gerrard wasn't thinking about that right now. He was trying to not fall over and hit the bowl, which he was doing a pretty good job of with his shoulder braced against the stall and his flat head against the wall above the toilet. Basically, he just had to aim straight down from this angle. Basically, he was still slowing down time, too, so he saw every drop in the broken stream hit about four seconds after it actually should have. Gerrard finished and leaved the... He leaved things, and let the stuff shlide back into his pants. Then he leaved with eyes to make things darkers. He didn't have to piss anymore, so it must have been a good time to sleep.

Gerrard started sleeping still standing up in the stall. He wasn't done partying and leaving those good speople out there, the nice people out there. He wanted just one minute to work it off and refreshshsh.

[-Dory]

Amitiel smiled dimly, lifting a hand to press it over the Lady's forearm as she hugged her again, and plopped in to Sir Sonnet's seat.

To new friendships. She repeated the phrase, and looked back in to her untaken whiskey glass with the certain uncertainty that came when one became convinced that they were missing something very important, and drew it to her lips. Her world was already spinning-- a fourth gulp was very likely to put her in the floorboards... but the Lady had made a toast, and it wouldn't only have been rude, but borderline insulting to decline.

The stuff was warm, and it smelled worse than it had tasted; but she'd already done this three times. Surely, there was nothing to worry about.

Tipping the glass up, she filled her mouth; but kept her lips slightly open to let half of it drain back in to the glass while Lady Davina was grimacing at her own helping, and swallowed.

I'm not entirely certain. She answered, as she wondered if her chair was moving, or if that was just her skin. Or the world... the world was moving, right? It rotated all the time. Maybe that was what it was. That must've been it.

Usually, I only drink wine... red wine, but-- why...

She wrinkled her nose. That didn't make sense.

But I-- Yes, I! That was the word! Wait, no... It... yes, it was... was whiskey they offered... her... No! Me. Yes. It was me.

Swaying in her seat, she stared in to the amber liquid, and frowned very slightly. Apparently she hadn't drained quite enough. Was this 'drunk'? She should take another sip. Wait! Yes. No. Yes! No. Yes!

Maybe.

Swaying, she put the glass back on the table. Probably not.

I've never been drunk before. Giggling, she sighed and leaned over the table; folding her arms under her head and staring at Lady Davina through half lidded eyes. What had she needed to tell her again?

[-Davina]

Davina eyed the drink and realized that she felt the warm spread into her very bones. Amitel looked so content so she took another drink, risking the burn and found the second one wasn't nearly so bad. Amitel... We need music... We should dance! She poked her new friend on the shoulder, managing to stay on her chair, barely as the idea of the two making some kind of festival out of the small inn.

Sonnet gave Gerrard a minute and heard nothing, no more sound on water on water, no retching... No snoring but the soft hiccup had him rolling his eyes and opening the stall door. Gerrard's position made him wish he could draw, would totally be worth it to put this picture in the males face just for the fun of it. He settled for laughing loudly as he grabbed the guy, careful to keep out of range in case the taller man decided to swing. Who knew being the short guy would help in this situation?

He grabbed the guy around the waist, careful to not let the larger man loose his feet, no need to run his strength in... After all, the poor guy had enough to compensate for in this world. He chuckled again a little before he spoke. "Alright my man, we need to get you back to the lovely ladies and maybe have some coffee."

[-Luthe]

"Shilly dagon coffee not that's not alhchol. Alcohol. Al-aaaalcohol-hol." Experimenting with words. Why did he feel so heavy? Everything felt heavy. His lungs and shoes were heavy, and there was something hard under his stomach. He thought it was the side of the table he was leaning on. Gerrard forgot that they went to the bathroom, and he wasn't so good at seeing things right now. Right now.

Now. Hic!

Hipbups? Who had hipcups at dinner table? Midnight tables maybe weren't for dinner tables, and he knew that it was dfninitely after night. "Yolo!" The A'ni word for servant. "Rum and water!" He hadn't spoken his native language in a long time. Something about the visit by the terracotta girl must have stirred old memories and old habits in him.

He didn't realize that Sonny was carrying him out to the lobby again, and he only kind noticed when the weight on his stomach, which had been his own weight leaning over Sonny's solid arm, disappeared. The dragon plopped him down in a chair, which mysteriously felt like a bed to the closed-eyed Gerrard. He wasn't all there, and he wasn't asleep, and he wasn't mad, and he had a huge grin on his face. He swirled around in his seat slowly. Trying to keep the floor from moving so much was a hard thing to do.

"Hold still, world," he was thinking. Always spinning and shit. What did it have against drunk people and not moving so much? It was important to note for everyone around him, though, that:

"...I got this...!"

[-Dory]

This whiskey stuff, man, this whiskey stuff.

Amitiel blinked back at Davina through half lidded eyes, lips pursing in to a pout as she found said eyes refusing to open the rest of the way, and music began to lilt haphazardly through the back of her head. She was staring, sort've, and that was rude; and the music didn't quite want to match up. Three different songs vied for her attention as she considered the fact that she should probably stop staring and say something; breaking off and leading in to whole new, unrelated except to her, melodies.

Her attention went with it, upper body swaying ever so slightly to a beat which didn't exist, and she giggled.

Dancing! She forceded a cognitive thought. Lady Davina wants to dance!

But her legs were jello, and and and, there was too much music and and and... and... and... her forehead hit the table.

"Uuueeeuuuerrrgggg..................................."

There was no getting up, for Amitiel. There was, however, quite a bit of squirming and trying to keep up with the warring music tugging her to dance despite the glaring inability to actually pull it off.

A very long moment later, or maybe it was only a second... the Lady didn't know. HOWEVER LONG later, a thud hit the chair across the table from hers, and she lifted her heavy head to regard Sirs Gerrard and Sonnet in silence.

Her head mixed them up. She didn't know either one of them very well. Neither of them had done anything particularly outstanding to imprint his face upon her mind, but one of them was swiveling in his chair... one of them... wait, no, both of them had... one of them had... Both... one... blast.

"YOU!!!!!!" She rocked back in her chair as though the damned table had blown up in her face; and the chair hit her back with a nauseating thud. The lifting of her hand to point an accusing finger at Gerrard came late, while she was back on the downtilt; and one arm wound up stretched across the table that was still there while the other wrapped around her head.

Apparently he had this. Well she didn't know what that meant or had to do with much of anything, but it was very different from her situation, and funny as hell for some reason.

"You haeve me whiskey!" She sniffled dramatically, "Meanieface." And spiraled off in to a giggle fit; cause no one knew the accusation was actually a semi-affectionate gesture, and that was even funnier than it's use.

But too much funny made her tummy boil; and she groaned, arm moving from her head to hold on to her stomach for dear life. Ether, but she hated puking.

"Good night." She decided, and toppled straight out of her chair.

[-Luthe]

"I don't..." He shaid. He felt very warm, and anything touching the table, like his elbows, were amazing. Solid objects were great, and up until now he had taken them for advantage. Er... He took them... Taking tables. He didn't have the muscles to take lots of tables, and he was too tired to take one table to the shop.

"Eaaaahhven have..." His exclamation was met with a thud, and he wasn't sure if he had just hit his knee, or it Amitiel's face planting on the table was that noise that happened in slow brain motion. He thought about playing card, and then about how the card were nowhere that he knew, but maybe the barkeep had some.

Gerrard forgot about cards, and his eye fixated on the face down woman across the table. He wash uh... What? Mmmm face. Mmmfuh. Fuhaaaeeeece. Ffff pfh pfh pffffffh pf pf. He couldn't stop the puffy laugh that he also couldn't help but try to contain. The hell was all that that she said? Thinking things was so hard right now. He wasn't even a little bit focusing on those all things.

"You meany damn how much did I drink?" Gerrard's final statement ran all into one last, long, unbecoming sentence, slurred and mumbled beyond reasonable recognition. He laid down on the table, too, and the ceiling was on him, and he felt weight everywhere, but it was warm and good. It took every ounce of his energy to lift his finger and sway it. He wasn't swaying to the music, because that was a hell of a lot too complicated for anything that could do happen happen from him. He couldn't... He couldn't do the thing that he was just thinking about. He wasn't sure what it was he was going to say anymore. What was that thinking?

Who the hell?

...

...

[-Davina]

Davina gingerly put the glass down and tried to figure out why she suddenly had the urge to laugh... And then giggled anyway, as a matter of fact her new found friends were so hilarious that she felt she should so obviously compliment both of them by giggling. Come to think of it... Well she couldn't hear either of them but she was entirely positive that everything they said was.... Fantastic.

Sonnet could only run a hand down the front of his face and rub his chin as he considered the table. Every last one of them was shit faced. He was saved from deciding who to deal with first when the Lady Amitel tried to dive from her chair, propriety was out as he moved to catch her... barely before she nailed the floor with the pretty face. He hefted her up, avoided a flailing arm and pegged Gerrard with a look that he figured would be missed. The bartender jerked a chin and muttered something that sounded like four before Sonnet headed up the stairs to get her atleast laid down.

Took him all of five seconds to realize that he didn't have her keys and he wasn't going to search the poor girl so he turned to Davina's room and booted the door open, sighing when he realized he was probably going to have to sit outside of it until the thing had been repaired. He set her on the bed, careful not to kink any of her body parts under her unconscious weight and lit a single candle on the dresser before gently closing the door behind him and heading down the stairs.

Gerrard was next, he didn't pick him up the same way as the damsel in distress, instead he clamped a hand on his shoulder and half lifted him up. "Come on buddy, time to get some rest, big trip in the morning." He managed to tap Davina on the shoulder and catch her around her shoulders as her mirth bubbled and caused her to stumble.

(Time to get us out of here if anyone has a problem with Sonnet putting everyone to bed please poke me!!))

[-Dory]

((Actually... I'ma go ahead and edit this before another post comes in. >.>))

Not quite unconscious, but pretty close.

Amitiel's eyes bolted open as movement sent her stomach reeling, and her hands gripped blindly at the arms scooping her off the floor. She whined, for a while; until she came to the conclusion that she was actually flying, and fell back asleep.

Until she landed on a bed; which her mind took as the cue to wake up all of a sudden.

Looking blearily around the room, she pursed her lips, and frowned-- Lady Davina's room. But that was wrong, and there were footsteps close to the door, and she was shaking, and she couldn't move, and she couldn't think, and, and, and--

Ground, damn you. She didn't recognize the voice, but there was a candle burning. Throwing her weight on to one side, she managed to roll on to it; and focused her eyes on the flame. She'd always liked fire. It was pretty, and it gave off a warm light which set the shadows around her to dancing, rather than piercing.

It was calming. She didn't notice the bottles of inks rolling over a pack of paper from her bag, or that they continued straight over the edge of the bed to crash and splatter, one by one, where vomit would have wound up on the floor.

She did notice the lightening of the shades around her, as the ink began to glow. Gripping the edge of the bed, she pulled herself to get a better look with quite a bit of gentle assistance; and was struck still with childlike wonder.

What she found, wasn't ink, and wasn't a splatter. Secret sigils blazed softly over the floorboards of the entire room, glow strengthening as she looked; and stirred matching ones within herself. Waves upon waves of understanding, comfort, support and acceptance nearly had her in tears; though she didn't dare look away, lest she lose track of the sources all around her.

She settled where she was, to look and try to comprehend. It was all so much bigger than her-- it didn't make sense. She didn't think she was worthy of such an enigma, but the glow continued despite her. She felt protected-- even cared for, which she didn't understand; but she couldn't stop smiling with gratitude for the privilege. She wasn't alone.

Let's try this again. The voice sighed, Can you hear me?

"Who..." Dropping an arm over the edge of the bed, she reached out for the closest of the runes. "...What are you?"

Hot damn, she can hear me! Hey guys, She can hear me!

It was all very strange to her. She blinked, hand recoiling from the rune she'd been about to touch as her eyes flickered up and toward the walls. Was someone there?

Nonononononono--! Another voice chimed. Down here!

"...Okay..." Blinking, she leaned forward again; and poked the sigil.

The entire floor flared to life. She scrambled back, and in to the center of the bed; burying her face in to her knees she gripped against her chest as the room lit up all at once. When she peaked, the glow had faded in to a figure-- currently a tall, unearthly beautiful blonde-haired woman, but apparent after images of more shapes and forms were still settling in to solidity around her outline.

"There you are." The woman smiled, "Startled?"

Amitiel stared, and glanced toward the door. "A little."

"Well, that's okay. Happens to everybody." Shrugging, the blonde followed her gaze. "Are we expecting company?"

What? We?

Shaking her head, the Lady adjusted her seating to something a bit less terrified, and shook her head again as she eyed the woman more carefully. Clearly, she was a miracle of the Ether; and there didn't need to be any more reasons for it.

"This isn't my room..." She murmured, and looked uncertainly back to the door. "I don't know what the others are doing..."

"Ah." The woman lifted a finger in to the air with the revelation, and a smile.

Eager to be helpful, Ami hurried on, "But I have my key!"

Laughing quietly, the mystery woman stood; and offered a hand. Her features rippled, emphasizing the quiet promise of new and different ones underneath. "Well, let's go; then."

Rather than taking the woman's hand, because that would have been a silly way to great her familiar; she simply flung her arms around her neck, and held on tight.


((aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand now we can move on.))