Old and new adventures~

[-Luthe]

Wasn't it funny how grapes had so many different flavors, but whenever you were sipping on a little bit of wine, or watching a server deliver a breakfast plate with a dollop of grape jelly for your hotcakes that you always knew what to expect? Grape was a purple flavor with a tart beginning and a sugary aftertaste. All grapes were like that, but the purple grapes were more pungent. Green grapes kept that sour bit going on longer. Gerrard guessed that it was just the ripeness, but he wondered if there were some varieties of grapes that never turned red or purple, and just stayed green until they fell off the vine and rotted. There were, weren't there? Besides, red grapes didn't taste like purple grapes, even if there weren't true green grapes. So why did every grape-motiffed foodstuff out there taste like the purple ones? It was prejudice!

Gerrard was sipping a little bit of wine (fermented from grapes) and he was astounded for the first time by the question "white or red" when he'd asked for a bottle of grape. Apparently, they DID have green grape wines, though they were closer to ciders because of the difference in the fermenting process. The server explained this to him as he sat there, and he was just a little dumbed by the fact that not all grape flavoring was purple. She was a sweet gal, and brought him a small half glass for him to try. Lo, he loved it. She offered to bring him something else to try, too. Said that it would be a little fizzy, like a child's drink, but very delicious. So Gerrard sat there on the garden veranda in a spirally black iron chair with one leg crossed over the other. Crisp spring greenery overhead filtered golden sunlight down onto the patio forming a protective screen, and marble floors made up the majority of the groundwork.

He returned home to Sanctuary just last week for a much needed rest. Gerrard had spent a long time hired out by the Aesirian city-state to help rebuild the farmlands of in Roft in addition to other menial landscaping chores that his particular brand of magic was pretty good for. Some of it was straight up manual, physical labor, but the vast majority could be done with spellwork. He made the sunlight bright and encouraged the plants to grow faster so that the city could enjoy two cropping seasons the next year to make up for the war time losses. And he made a lot of money doing it. Helping the populace put food in their mouths wasn't exactly the wrong direction on his moral compass, either. After all that time on Ardania he could sit back and enjoy the warm spring day in a place where very little ever happened. Nothing bad came to Sanctuary very often. No one tried to disturb the peace.

Gerrard raised the glass of white wine to his lips and sucked out the last grapey drips, then set the long stemmed glass down on the woven black iron table. He folded his arms behind his head and hoped the serving gal would return. He was so eager to try this bubbly drink she'd been talking about.

[-Davina]

Davina hadn't planned where to go when she had teleported from the place that she had last woken in, only that she had wanted home. It was the first and last and again first thought she had as she exploded into exsistance still clinging to the now great dane sized golden dragon clutched in her arms.

She didn't intend to land on the man, really hadn't meant to land anywhere near any man for that matter. Had it been any other time, any other time at all she would have laughed but now horror and fear clutched at her when she landed in the lap of a male who appeared to have been sitting in a chair.

It knocked the chair back and had them both clattering back onto the floor, her cry of alarm finally woke Sonnet who scrambled out of her arms to defend her from attack. She couldn't untangle herself from the gown that had been borrowed from the lady at the castle, her legs were caught at an odd angle against his chest with the red skirts trapped under the chair keeping her sitting on him.

Tears gathered in the huge blue eyes as they darted around then landed on him, full of panic and fear as she clamped her hands over her ears and shook her head him. Bruises showed everywhere skin showed, rainbows of blacks blues and purples that broke the pale lines old over new after so many drops and so many tugs and pulls. This really couldn't get much worse, all she could do was brace for his anger.

[-Caithann]

"GWAFA-HAHAHA!!" Bellowed Barnabas as he threw the door open, looking into the room. He had a hand on his stomach and took a few lumbering steps towards the fresh chaos. The barmaid just sort of stopped, and... looked. The bistro chef heard the guffaw and instantly began to dread the work order. That wasn't a laugh that claimed 'I'm young and having a great time!', it was like the whale call of a fat man. He needed to -feed-.

With both hands on his stomach, the large man sat on the chair. One was sure the furniture would fear for its life if it could. As he watched the woman crash in from nowhere and land on the man, a set of thick, fleshy sausages stroked his beard in thought.

"Hup!" He yelled, pushing on his knees and exaggerating the motion of standing before he essentially waddled towards the table in question. A hand reached out to take the remaining grapes from the man's bowl.

[-Luthe]

There was a strange sound that came with temporal displacement, but in all the years he'd spent practicing teleportation spells, he'd never come across one quite so haphazard as this. And never before had he randomly been the victim of a face full of feathers.

Weight on his chest, and suddenly he was going backwards. The fall didn't take long, and the chair tipped right over. He rolled his shoulders forward, but still smacked the back of his head nice and sharp against the marble tile. His vision sparked and went black, but he didn't lose consciousness.

Then the feathers went up his nose.

He saw a whole lot of grey, felt an object roll off of him, and understood that this lump of dead weight was a pair of women's legs, wrapped around in the most uncomfortable of positions. Had he just been hit by an angel?

He clenched his teeth and felt the steady, growing pulse of the throbbing in the back of his head. He was probably bleeding. The contact point sensation was much more warm than it should have been.

The feathers retracted, Gerrard regained his sight, and the first thing that popped into his head was the age old line "did it hurt?" He wasn't going to ask. She wouldn't answer him like this with the typical "did what hurt?" That meant he couldn't finish up with "when you fell from heaven, you angel". After all, he wasn't trying to pick her up. Well, maybe he should have been. She was sitting right on top of him. Oh. Oh yeah. Puns. God damn, he hit his head hard.

His arms were currently pinned. His nose itched. He blinked, looked up at her as she cringed, and his face twisted into something so awkward, so awful, so cruel looking... His lips curled downward, and he smished up the skin around his neck as he contorted in the oddest looking facial expression you've ever seen. Then... Unable to redirect the blast, or unable to think of redirecting the blast... Gerrard kind of... Just... Sneezed in her face.

[-Davina]

Sonnet saw the fat man waddle at them and went into full attack mode, not caring that all the man wanted was grapes. Sonnet snipped at his fingers thinking that he was reaching for Davina rather than the luscious fruit that was just out of reach.

Davina in the mean time was watching in abject horror as the man scrunched up his face into a look so shocking that it was close to the face Val made right before he had knelt before the metal demon. She struggled against the fabric of her skirt, sure that he was about to do something very very bad, unsure of exactly what. So far this week she had been blown up, almost eaten, almost set on fire and a man who claimed to love her... Her thoughts were a mess and totally derailed when he sneezed in her face.

She stopped moving, stopped breathing and even Sonnet stopped snapping for a second as she blinked at him. Again she covered her ears and this time very cautiously shook her head. He hadn't hit her, maybe all hope wasn't lost?

[-Caithann]

Barnabas wasn't going to be stopped. Not by some tiny scale-dog. One hand raised as if to backhand the creature with a disgusted, "Bah!" While his other hand snatched the bowl anyway. "I have no care for tiny woman thing. She would break."

He took the bowl and returned to his chair, not even deigning to react to the lizard's snips. He had grapes. "Bistro!" He bellowed again, "Roast beef sandwich! Big!"

The large oaf sat abruptly, causing the chair to creak in agony and protest. He didn't bother to pick out an individual grape, instead opting to eat three or four at a time - stems attached. He watched the woman, dragon, and man with amusement, guffawing again as it were dinner and a show.

[-Luthe]

Then Gerrard gawked, shot out a big puff of air (this time off to the side), and rolled over fully engorged with his own embarrassment. He sneezed in her face. Alright. This encounter was off to a good start. And some guy bellowing in the background. How did everything suddenly get so chaotic in Sanctuary?

He slid his hand out from under his own spine and used it to pry himself out from under her. He pushed off her back, hoping she might move with the motion. It was really all the leverage he had. Three inches more, and he grabbed the table leg and scraped himself along the tile until he was completely free, then tried to stand.

The knock on the head wasn't that bad. He carefully swept his legs under him, just to be sure that his equilibrium hadn't been compromised.

"I'm. Sorry," he said, and turned around to give her an open hand up.

"You just fell out of nowhere. That's never happened to me before."

[-Davina]

Silence was deafening, she could feel him shifting under her, creeping from under her legs and finally leaving her in a tangle with the chair. Relief swept through her as contact was broken finally. When she glanced up and his hand came out she flinched a little but took it gingerly then dropped it as soon as she was on her feet and clear of the chair. She could see his lips move and frowned then used her sleeve to wipe at her face a little, flinching when it pulled at the wing that was already sore.

Frustration rose and fell in waves along with fear. She still wasn't sure where she was and now... She sighed and again tried to explain by putting her hands over her ears and shaking her head emphatically then clamping a hand over her own mouth. Once not so long ago she would have done differently but she knew better now... Hard lessons.

Sonnet had settled for protecting her back and facing the fat man, growling at him and thumping his tail once on the tile as though to say I am watching you.

[-Caithann]

Barnabas, in fatty class, decided to shove the last of the clusters of grapes into his hairy maw. He stood and leaned forward slightly, using the bare minimum of physical activity to toss the now empty bowl back onto the table from whence it came.

He sat back and rubbed his stomach, "Gwahah!" He then reached down and lifted the rapier from his belt, pointing it mildly at the small dragon for just a moment. "Will skewer for sandwich, hairless sheep." He chuckles, placing the weapon back at his side.

Moments later, the barmaid set the plate down at his table, featuring the large sandwich. Naturally, one would expect a beast like Barnabas to devour the sandwich. Instead, he simply brought his hand up and stroked the breaded delicacy, much like a villain petting his evil cat. His bearded lips curled into a smug smile.

[-Luthe]

Gerrard was busy settling with the angel, but he saw the bowl plunk back down on the vine pattern table top. The difference between when he last saw it and now? It was empty. "Grapes..."

Someone ate his grapes? "Did you...?" He asked slowly, pointed, then withdrew his finger, not exactly wanting to indulge or insult the obvious glutton that joined them on the veranda.

He bent down and stood up the chair, but the angel didn't seem to notice the noise one bit when he smacked it against the ground. That, combined with the head shaking and covering the ears just about confirmed his suspicions. Maybe this little lady just couldn't hear. She wasn't speaking; not a damn word out of her yet. She didn't seem to respond to anything that was going on besides his own movements. She was skittish. Her wing flinched. She was bruised to hell. Where did she come from?

Grapes were forgotten. The wine glass was broken. The serving girl would be back soon with a broom and cloth to clean their mess. He'd have to pay for the crack in the marble tile. But damn his head was throbbing.

Gerrard looked up at the canopy of leaves, and the light flickering down through them. Easy fix for most of their troubles right now was going to be a little magic. Only a little. He could only perform minor spells, as it were. So here he went.

The wizard's hand traced down to a leather satchel on his belt, and flipped the small tie open. His fingers rummaged around for a second, and he produced a small trinket, then handed it to the angel and offered her the now upright seat, behind which he stood. The trinket was best defined as a yellow gem stone, wrapped in the center of what looked like a spider's webbing of thread, with the web tied taunt to an outer frame of tiny woven sapling branches.

"Please sit," he said. Then he motioned for the chair again. She couldn't hear him. At least he thought. In the universal sign of good intention, he showed her his palms. He was unarmed, and he tried to unarm her equally with a shrug and a smile. Fingers crossed. She really couldn't just walk around like this. Poor thing.

[-Davina]

Sonnet huffed out a breath, pissed as hell to be woken up with a throbbing head and body only to find his woman in danger... kind of...

Then the fat bastard calls him a sheep. That was about the last insult.

The serpentine tongue was long and lightening fast as it whipped across the patio and yanked the sandwich back. The empty plate was left spinning and the loud burp and smug tail thump was Sonnets form of Fuck you buddy.

Davina hesitated when he pushed the stone into her hand and gestured to the chair. One step then two brought her closer but she kept her eyes on him, not entirely sure what he had in store for her and not sure she was going to like it.

It was then she noticed the blood on him, her distress showed plainly on her face and she reached out without thinking about it. She wasn't paying attention to what was going on but was busy worrying about the damage she had caused to another person, her skin took on an odd glow and warmth poured through her hand closing the wound in his head and pulling the throbbing headache out with it.

She pulled her hand back and frowned at him then showed him the rock and raised an eyebrow in question, had he done this?

[-Caithann]

... Pale, ivory skin that was kissed by a snowy complexion quickly became flustered, red. Angry. Fat. Fat and angry. Barnabas practically swelled further with indignant rage. Never before has a boat of a man been seen move so quickly in that establishment. The chair was left rocking, threatening to tip over.

Barnabas was up. Straight. His treetrunk-trashcan width legs at the ready and carrying his considerable weight with a warrior's posture. The rapier was drawn, the tip leveled to the dragon's chin. "Scale dog! I would have you skinned and made into belt if I knew not that I would need more than one puny scale dog!"

The marble flooring beneath them began to rumble beneath them, even well after he'd stopped moving. By the sounds of it all, chunks were getting ready to rip from the floor. But not yet.

[-Luthe]

He pulled away just a hair when she reached for him. A light touch to the side of his head saw the throbbing die out. His skin crawled and he shivered as it knit back together, which told him that he had definitely broken the flesh open back there.

The girl used the item like a natural.

She eyed the gemstone, then him, and he just nodded back at her. For all he knew, it had been the trinket that healed him. Strange, though. Usually it only worked for the one who was holding it. Maybe the girl had her own magic, and it was interfering with the attunement in the artifact. She'd come from a temporal displacement of some kind. At first he was wondering if she didn't come off and escape from some really bad situation, given her condition. That was the "where did she come from?" a moment ago. Now he was just plain confused as to what exactly she was. An elemental, maybe? A spirit of spring, like the nyads that visited the garden city during the warmer months? Her wings weren't purged white like a normal angel's.

Entirely possible. Just a spirit of the season, or an aven-kin straying from the flock. The first one would explain the trinket's strange behavior.

Gerrard pointed to her, now, and led her by the arm into the chair directly in the path of some gorgeous beams of sunlight.

[-Davina]

Sonnet narrowed his eyes at the fat man but didn't move a muscle even when Davina left for the chair. He was done running, done backing down and he sure as fucking a was done with humans. He farted, then waved his tail cheerfully and tilted his head while showing his teeth in a pleasant dragon smile while expanding his wings slightly to fan the breeze.

[-Caithann]

A chubby nostril flared as Barnabas sniffed. "Is challenge, scale dog?" The rosy red anger slowly drained from his cheeks, beneath his muffin-top collar. He sniffed again, as if weighing the smell.

Slowly, the rapier returned to his side, and the corners of his mouth bent downward in a sneer of determination. He stood there. Silent, save for the rumble of his breath leaving his nostrils.

Suddenly, as if without provocation, a horrid noise erupted from the bottom of the man's kilt. The stench rolled out of his clothing and began to seep into the immediate surrounds, saturating the furniture, the floor... then it began to rise.

"Is accepted."

[-Davina]

Davina was exhausted, on every level she had never been so tired in all of her life. She didn't flinch when he took her arm, only let her head hang and allowed him to lead her to the chair. She didn't sit but curled into it, drawing her knees tight to her chest and wrapping her arms around them before resting her head against her updrawn knees.

She was afraid to let go of the stone, afraid to look up and half afraid she was going to fall asleep and wake up somewhere else that was different again. But the sunlight felt good and she moved the mass of black hair off of the injured wing so that it wouldn't put any wieght on it before sending a sidelong look at the male again. He didn't appear to be trying to touch her much, which was nice, and he was moving as though nothing was in a great hurry to be done...

The scent reached her nose and had her head lifting to the area where Sonnet and the larger gentleman seemed to be facing off. Her nose wrinkled up and she buried her face in her skirts for an entirely different reason this time.

[-Luthe]

Just as soon as she sat down and the yellow gemstone touched sunlight and began to twinkle, the girl was given a affinity that changed her relationship with the world. What the jewel was was a sunstone. The spiderweb threading represented the ties between the life giving sun at the center, and the wooded world that flourished in an overgrowth around that one basic necessity. When the angel touched the woven wooden frame of the trinket, she was connected. Her physical body could begin feeding from the sun just like all the flora in the world.

The longer she sat between those sunbeams - the warmer and balmier the day - the more quickly her body would rebuild itself. Already, bruises began to shrink, strength should be returning to her, and the injured wing would mend.

The sunstone was one of the more useful items he'd procured from Meloria, back when he was apprenticing under the mages there, presumably to learn tidal magic and sea geography. He picked up a few tricks completely unrelated to the oceans, and eventually stole an artifact or two, including the sunstone. When he got back to the mainland he thought he could sell the jewel in Alegrarse for the price of a few duck dinners and a bottle of good pinot noir. When the jeweler acted suspicious, Gerrard just left the shop, had the stone evaluated in Sanctuary, and found out exactly what it was. A druid helped him concoct the object he had now that the angel currently held, and that was the end of a long story made short.

He also almost bought a wife with the stone once, but that never panned out...

He silently pointed out the bruises to her so she could watch them slowly vanish.

Then the smell hit him, and he wormed his finger back to his face and rubbed his upper lip to try and block out his nostril holes and suffocate himself. Suffocation: yeah, it was probably a better option right now than breathing. He tried to be discrete, and tried to step back behind her a little bit and act like he was just nonchalantly covering his mouth and nose with his hand.

He squinted his eyes when the oniony burn wafted up into them, and he blinked away a tear. Gerrard used his other hand to snap his fingers, and lit the pointer up like a match and fanned it in front of his face.

[-Davina]

Sonnet stood slowly, stretching his long back and expanding his wings to push air forward and back, creating a small whirlwind then he spouted fire at it. Just a little but it was enough to have the noxious gas tornado in the room catching in a sudden flare then just as suddenly it was out and Sonnet still stood looking pleased as pie with himself. The smell was gone, though some leaves were singed in the process.

He looked back and took quick note of the fading bruises, huffed approvingly of the males distance from his woman then swung his attention back to the fat man. Bracing his front feet on the marble tiles he lowered his head a little and stretched his neck, the noise that came forth was close to a roar, deep and long and ended with a hiccup that produced a tooth pick. The long tongue set it back on the plate and again Sonnet sat on his haunches and smiled. One shouldn't mess with a dragon's ability to produce obnoxious noisy air noises.

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Davina watched intently, half waiting for him to attack her half facinated as her body healed itself. Sonnet seemed to be entertaining a large man in a chair and she was feeling less like she needed to find the nearest flat spot and sleep for an eternity so she tried again to communicate. She wanted to know where she was and if he was okay so she laid her hand on her head and gestured at the back of it then pointed around them and shrugged. By the gods this was awkward.

[-Luthe]

For Gerrard, obnoxious and noisy was better than obnoxious and smelly. He was able to look up at the leaves and convince the singed edges to fizzle and die out, then fall from the still healthy branches.

The angel was back to waving her hands, and all the man could do was sort of stare at her. He didn't understand what she meant, but she touched the back of her head. He guessed she was talking about his head, and he smiled and nodded. Yes, he was fine. She didn't have to worry about him.

He felt a rare twinge in his stomach, which ran its course through his body until it made his fingers numb and his eyes cross for a short second until he shook the feeling away. Feet were falling asleep. But he wasn't injured... Oh, he knew what was happening.

Gerrard licked his lips, and noticed that his mouth was dry. The thirst wasn't from the wine. Gods, he thought he had another day before he'd have to go to Lilly for help. Being around pretty girls wasn't going to do him any bit of good, he supposed. Alright. But just for safety...

"I'm sorry," he said, projecting to the fat man. "Sir, could you escort me to White Pillar Hall. I'm not feeling well."

What he really wanted was someone at his back to knock him down in case he started to get aggressive before they reached Lilly Ann. The girl would probably have to come with them, but he'd feel safe leaving the battered little thing with his old master. Things would work out. He just had to leave. Soon.

"I could pay for the meal you lost, and the next." ...As a little extra incentive.

[-Blissful Darkness]

Ro'Keen walks down the road lost in thought. He stops in his tracks and sniffs the air. "Ah smells like ripe grapes and well aged wine!" He follows his nose closing in on the aroma, he then stops as a strong odor hit his nose. "My God! smells like a zombie died in a sewer!" He cry's aloud. there, he spots the people on the people on the patio. He walks over, holding his nose under the cal of his cloak, and peers through with his glowing green eyes.

"Excuse me, but I couldn't help but to smell the grapes and wine.... and that God Awful smell!" he said with his voice distorted by him pinching his nose. "I would love to have some fine wine, I've been traveling for a good while." he continued. "But whatever that other smell is, I could do with out for another 800 years!"

[-Davina]

Davina stood up and moved to help, nudging the stone into Gerrard's hands as concern crossed her face again. He looked slightly ill for a second. Again his mouth moved as though he were speaking so she looked at Sonnet who nodded and looked at the male curiously and sniffed him.

She brought a hand to his forehead in a gesture that all women seemed to use and frowned when it seemed a bit clammy. She pushed at him, uselessly, but trying to get him to sit in the chair where she had been so that he could feel better then pulled her hands back behind her back when she realized she was touching him and looked down. It was then she realized there was someone else talking, the dark skin and long ears screamed drow and she squeaked a little and moved to put a table between herself and the man. I'm not going back. It was broadcast for every mind in the area to hear.

[-Caithann]

Barnabas, for all of his previous anger, was now quite jovial. "Gwafafa!!" He laughing and clapping his hands on his knees. He sucked in a good mawful of air and forced it down his gullet, then quickly drew it back up along with some other foul mixtures from his gut. The fat man let forth a belch that rattled the small glass on his table.

"Hah! Scale dog is alright! Ehh?" He looked over, not seeming to be pleased with the other man's interruption.

Standing with effort, Barnabas tugged at his kilt to free it from its unspoken confines, and air it out before walking over to the man who called him over, "Eh? Is looking for hall? Bah!" He clapped a hand again on the man's shoulder.

"Am Barnabas! Is good pleasure to help!"

[-Luthe]

Gerrard pocketed the trinket and gestured that they follow him inside. He felt his eyes squinting, and his skin was beginning to feel tight. Next would come the cold sweat and fever. He gave himself about twenty minutes before he started getting uncontrollably agitated. Shortly after that, violent.

His looks were hurried, and his pace picked up as he collected his things and left coin money for the cracked patio floor.

"Barnabus," he parroted.

"It's great to know you. Miss, sir," to the angel and the dark elf, "I'll hire you too. Come on."

He motioned again and went down the small stairs and into the door that lead through the bistro. White Pillar Hall wasn't far from the main street restaurant. He had already paid for the room on the second floor to store his things. Ten days worth. He knew it could last longer than just a week, and he had already planned on staying there tonight. Too late. So sad. At least his affairs were in order. Right now he just needed to get to Master Lilly.

Explanation... Should he be explaining things? Not really. As long as people got their money, they were usually happy.

[-Davina]

Davina looked around uncertainly only moving from her spot when Sonnet moved to follow the male and the fat man. He carefully curled his tail around her hand and pulled her forward, he wasn't sure he liked the way the guy looked but he didn't like Davina out in the open either so... Besides Fatty wasn't bad, though he still called him a dog.

Davina was certain she had hurt that man badly, he kept making odd movements and gestures and she was worried that the way things were settling in he had brain damage. She sent another glance behind her to see if the Drow was following as Sonnet tugged her forward then shoved her hair out of her eyes and vowed she was going to help the man who had helped her feel better... After all, she had hurt him hadn't she?

[-Caithann]

"Gafwahahaha!!" Barnabas bellowed, looking over to the Drow. "What? Ees new partnership!?" He took a few lazy, lumbering steps to the Drow and began to size him up. A nostril flared as he sniffed.

The heights were close, but Barnabas easily had the elf beat in terms of width. That was no contest, and probably even a compliment to the Drow. This man was possibly the fattest thing on legs within miles, livestock notwithstanding because he'd probably just eat them.

"Gafwahah!!" He went to clap two meaty hands on the Drow's shoulders, "Is good to be working with you! We will be having many adventures! Story times! Fear not! Barnabas ... and my last name! You are in good company! Well protected!!" It was entirely possible that in his glutenous delight of wine grapes, the man had forgotten his own name.