Cinnamon & Liotuse: July 2

Cinnamon isn’t really one used to having men in her bed, for love or any other reason. She’s only just gotten used to having an empty apartment for the first time since leaving Gilneas, and then suddenly, from nowhere, a bleeding Lio. Leo? Lio? Did it matter? To be sure, she feels like something of a creepy character from a creepier novel, keeping him in her apartment when nobody else knows where he is, but he said last night that he’d be gone by this morning, and Cinna wants to believe him.

So when she comes home after a long day’s work at the library, she fully expects the apartment to be empty, not even bothering to look at the bed. Her staff and bag clatter to the floor, mindless of any noisiness, and she even lets her hair down around her shoulders, massaging her neck. With any luck, Lio will have gone to the Square and she can check on him, make sure that his wounds haven’t reopened or anything.

Her luck was bad and she’ll most likely feel bad. Liotuse was in fact not in the Square nor was he even out of the house. But at one point it seems he accomplished getting out of the house to collect some things. There were two sets of clothes present now, one being on him. A plain white shirt and clean shorts. Maybe not much of a set, considering the two pairs of pants were instead folded and neatly placed at the foot of the bed amongst other garments.

The other important prize being a moderately sized dumbbell, stone weights set on it. It was in his left hand, burning through reps at a set pace but nothing too lazy. The right of course, arm still being damaged to a point, was neatly settled on his lap with a book in hand. All in all, Lio looked incredibly comfortable sitting next to the bed, back pressed against the wall with his legs stretched out. The bed? No bloody sheets in sight, fresh bedding set down and tightly. Military style.

Cinna doesn’t even notice Liotuse at first, still setting her things down. It’s not until she’s moved to start undoing her trousers that she turns around and sees her patient still sitting there and using a dumbbell and reading one of her books like he lives there or is a boyfriend or something. She can’t really help herself and lets out a shriek, jumping back and grabbing a coat from near the doorway to cover herself, as if she’s actually not wearing clothing.

“You’re... still here,” she observes after a moment, still hiding, half behind the coat and half behind a long, multicolored scarf. What in the Light’s name is up with this girl’s apartment? Between the ten million books, the dark wood, the coats and scarves, the tiny windows, the teapots, it has to be the strangest dwelling in all of Stormwind.

He makes a loud swear and winds up dropping the dumbbell onto his thigh. Thankfully not on the inside of it or else the bruise that’s sure to show up would be a little scarier to deal with. Liotuse is amazingly quick in removing it and setting aside with a loud thunk as he springs to his feet. Still unsteady as hell from yesterday’s events though, he’s not as hasty as could be with it and wobbles as he raises his left hand and the book in it.

“Sorry! Sorry. Yeah. I didn’t... mean. You know.” No elaboration. She might not know. He turns his torso some to toss the book back onto the bed. It was a ‘romantic’ sort of novel. ‘Romantic’. Lio doesn’t seem too bothered in reading it. More out of possible hilarity instead of actually getting into it. Nothing to say for it downstairs too with no manly protrusion to horrify her.

Cinna tries to regain some sense of composure, but this isn’t very easy, not when he’s still here and that was the opposite of what she expected. Her glasses continue to slide progressively further down her nose, threatening to fall right off, but she ignores them in favor of holding that multicolored scarf over most of her face. It’s kind of like an invisibility potion, right? Just...more colorful?

“You, um. You’ve been out and about at least,” she offers as a sort of truce with the awkwardness, nodding at the pants over on the foot of the bed. And the made bed. What the hell is with this strange man in her apartment and all his pants. “And you’re looking... I mean, your color’s looking much better, so I’d assume you’re, um. Feelin’ better?” Not that he can see it, but the inner kicking of Cinna’s is at an epic level right now.

His bottom lip is taken between his teeth, sucking in a small breath as he squints at somewhere above Cinna. “Enough to be more talkative and roll out of the... your bed.” Left hand flapping backwards to indicate it, still talking as he moves to the foot to collect a pair of pants and actually do a better job of covering his lower half. “I did go out. Blacked out once. My body’s still not cooperating a bit.”

A beautiful demonstration is given as he favors the left hand a majority more. Still, some progress can be seen even just for the night and day in terms of a recovery. Mostly being able to curl his fingers and grasp things. Like the rich, appealing fabric of his pants as the leggings were slowly drawn up to cloak those blazing hot limbs. Toned, trim tanned muscle. Could crush a melon between them, obviously.

“No, no! I mean...” Cinna lets the scarf drop, finally, revealing bright pink cheeks, more at her own awkwardness than anything else. She also finally pushes her glasses up on her nose, hazel eyes now magnified by thick lenses. “Well, you’re the one who’s hurt, so it’s only fair that if you’re going to stay here, you might as well sleep there. In the bed, I mean. Not on the chair. Unless that’s more comfortable.” She shuffles forward to try and actually make it seem like she’s coming in to her own home, but she also manages to bump her knee against several pieces of furniture as she goes, eliciting more than a few “bother”s along the way.

“And more to the point...” Cinna doesn’t quite look at those blazing hot limbs as she finally settles herself near the pillow of the bed. “Does anyone know you’re here? I... I don’t want your harem or a brigade of Cathedral Square lackeys to come arresting me for kidnappin’ you.”

A tug of his sleeves to hike and bunch them up on his biceps, a fold of his arms followed swiftly by leaning on half the wall and half a pile of books. Then he’s clear to relax somewhat, closing his eyes as if ready to nap there. “No, no. I’m... I know people are going to be concerned. Not to the point of a witch hunt. But. It’s better this way. For one.” Liotuse’sleft hand is used as an abacus, counting on it. “I know if I tell anyone what happened. They’ll go off to deal with it. Then get horribly would-be slaughtered like I was supposed to be.”

A small sigh at that. His big tell, if he were playing cards, that he cares more about his friends than himself. Selfless, an actual paladin trait he has. “Two. Letters could be intercepted. Tracked back probably. Then there’s only so much I can do to defend my injured self and you from killers.” Lio’s voice drops to something more sincere and honest to her, features settling some as his eyes open. “Three. If it is really okay for me. Until I’m covered. Enough to function well in combat. I already owe you more than enough. Might as well keep adding to my tab, huh?” The ghost of a smile, not a classic smirk, crosses his face.

Cinna smiles thoughtfully at this list. It’s quick and logical, perfect things for a paladin to worry about, and she appreciates the balanced concern for himself and others (herself included). “I couldn’t possibly keep a tab,” she answers, relaxing some. It helps to be in her own home, among her trappings and keepsakes. “You’d ring up a debt impossible to pay back and, anyway, it’s an old witch’s law not to require repayment for a saved life. But... but if you feel safer here, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need. Goldrinn knows...” She trails off, suddenly aware that she’s rambling.

“...are they that sort, then? The people who...you know, did this to you?” Cinna finally looks up at Liotuse, staring at some point in the center of his forehead because that’s easier.

He doesn’t seem to notice the pointedly nowhere-else-only-there watch on him even as his own gaze is tossed to Cinna. A quick look over of her, nothing perverted, is done. He’s only really seen her in something of a passing at the benches in the Square. Then the whole dying schtick. “I’ve had people do more for me for less, I’m sure. Just because we’re friends.” His back slides against the wall as he drags himself down to the floor, taking a seat once more. “And by ‘that sort’ do you mean ‘tyrannical’ and ‘villainous’? Then the answer is yes.”

Liotuse offers a sigh, pulling his knees up and resting his arms on them with hands clasped between. He blinks a moment and looks to her. “And I’m not psycho myself. Not trying to trick you or anything.”

Friends. Not something Cinna’s really used to since coming to Stormwind, and she’s not sure if he means the kind of friends that are actually friends or the kind of friends who know each other incidentally and then through strange circumstances, save each other’s lives. But either way, it works. “Mm, I meant more the type who order hits on people. You know, like in those crime stories. Or maybe you don’t have those in Stormwind. They’re a huge hit in Gilneas. Or. Were.”

“Though I suppose that would make them psychopaths, hm?” She takes to arranging the bulky quilts on the bed, fluffing the pillows, anything to keep her hands busy and away from her hair and face. “And...for the record, I didn’t think you were a psycho. A lech possibly, but not a psycho.”

“Oh no. It’s okay. They’re set up for that.” The dam springs a leak, some sarcasm taking advantage of the breech. “They’ve got more than a few shadow-walking folks to just show up. Blades and all.” His left hand pulls away from its twin to scrub at his face. For a moment, the bridge of his nose is taken between index and thumb. “...Thanks, Cinna. Really. For hauling me off. Mending. And letting me stay.”

The dam forms another crack, a chuckle slipping loose as he manages to revert somewhat to a more Liotuse state. “I’ve got two questions already. No. Wait. Three. Is there a Mister Cinna I have to be worried about? What specifically do I owe you? Annnd. Where in the Light’s name did you sleep last night?”

“Why would they order a hit on you? I mean, you seem like a reasonable person and all.” Cinna finishes fluffing the pillows and adjusting the quilts and now can do nothing more than fiddle with her boots and eventually remove them, mimicking Liotuse’s posture with her knees drawn up. “And it’s nothin’, really. I couldn’t let someone die, especially not there, and...” Well, she really has no reason for letting him stay beyond he’s right here and it’s rude to throw someone who’s right here back to the street.

And maybe a little he’s cute.

The paladin’s slow relaxation gives Cinna some ease as well, and her smile becomes much less nervous and more genuine. It’s a pretty smile, at that, and brings out dimples. “As you can see, the line of candidates for the position of ‘Mister Cinna’ goes practically all the way to Northrend, which is to say, no to the first. Second, you owe me nothing, like I told you, though if you stay more’n...well, we’ll say three months, I’ll start buggin’ you for rent. And third, in that chair. I think I dozed off with a teacup in m’hand.” She can’t help but let out a nervous giggle.

Liotuse’s hands clap together jokingly, snickering softly as he rubs them. “Good. Means I’ve got a head start, then.” Fingers weave together as his arms relax to let the clenched hands hang. He falls silent, though nothing negative shows on his face. Contemplative and thoughtful. “...Nah. I’d be gone before even two months. Not... that came off rude. Not that I don’t mind it for the under twenty four hours I’ve been awake and alert. I don’t think I’d be a burden for that long.”

The back of his head makes a nearly muted thump against the wall, resting it backwards. “I’ll sleep on the floor. You get the bed.” Said like a friendly but final order. “The whole chair thing wouldn’t work for either of us.”

Cinna doesn’t bother to argue against Liotuse’s head start comments, though she certainly thinks she could. “You aren’t a burden,” she decides to say, her smile becoming friendlier. “It’s just me living here with a bunch of books and teapots and things. And just as long as you don’t mind the herbs or get too excited about the tawdry books, you’re not a burden.” Her eyes light on the cover of the book Liotuse was reading earlier at the mention of “tawdry books” and she even dares to (gasp) wink at him.

“And anyway, the chair’s fine for me. Or...well, the floor, really. I’ll have to shift to keep warm, but I can do that better than you can, and anyway, I can handle the cold better at this point.” She wrinkles her nose to push her glasses up without hands. “I don’t want you to go into shock. That would just make me a terrible hostess.”

“Cinna. Doll. I live off of tea. Specifically green if you... have...” His words start to wander as well as his eyes as he looks around. Surely somewhere in the place will provide him with a physical example. “...It.” A small pause. That cause was abandoned far too quickly. The place was a little baffling to him and intimidating, if just for the volume of teaquipment and books.

“...Anyways. No. You. Are. Taking. The. Bed.” He smirks now to escort his words, looking a little too sly for a guest in her home. “I can help with the cold thing if that persists. But even cuddling in a somewhat still random woman’s bed would make me look like such a tramp.”

“Do you now?” Tea is something familiar for Cinna, obviously. “I do have some green tea, though I usually mix it with other herbs for different effects... pain soothing, mind focusing, and so on.” She stands and begins digging through a drawer, finally coming up with a small pouch of herbs: green tea and something that looks floral. “Something I brought from back home. The herbs there... they don’t dry as well, but I think our tea is good.”

Cinna slips the pouch into Liotuse’s hand before returning to the bed. “I could heat up a pot now, if you like, though it’s still rather warm out.”

Of course, it’s less that it’s warm out and more that she’s been confronted with a new challenge: a man in her bed while she is in her bed. She has to clear her throat several times before finally saying, in as grown up a voice as she can muster, “...I suppose we could just share, then. It’s not a small bed, after all, and we’re both adults.” Adults. Right. That’s... right. Yes.

The pouch is tossed between hand and hand. For about half of a second, unable to grab it in time with the right. He’ll get angry at the right one eventually, more blaming himself somehow instead of the man that drove the knife under the arm. Liotuse’s more functional hand reaches across to pluck up the pouch and flick it to the foot of Cinna’s bed, letting it flop next to his boots.

“Not too thirsty, really. And it’s more my... calm down or wake up thing. I’m pretty well off for the moment.” Alright. He’s bad at avoiding subjects at times when they aren’t dire or prone to causing turmoil. “I’m uh. Going to apologize in advance if I do any rolling over and smothering. Or an arm around you. Getting a little... snug.” A hand tips towards his lower-half. Referring to the almighty spooning. “Sleeping habits are hard to break after a serious relationship.”

“...But I’m on the floor. You. Bed.”

Cinna folds her arms across her chest, looking far sterner than anyone her age has a right to look. “Lio. Look. You almost bled out on this bed last night. I don’t mind sharing it with you, but I shan’t let you sleep on the floor, yeh? Not until it’s been at least a week that you’re recovered. We’ll just...divide things up somehow. Halvsies or something. Not a big deal.”

Of course, she isn’t looking at him as she says this. It’d betray her innate awkwardness over the situation, over the idea of having a man in her bed for the first time ever, and just in general. He doesn’t need that; he’s down an arm, gods’ sake.

It’s okay though. He has fingers he can use while she’s around. “That’s not how I work, damnit.” Cuss aside, he’s not legitimately bothered, features even and relaxed. “I’m bugged when people extend big -” It’s just a bed, Lio. “- courtesies like this. Taaake. Iiiit.” His left hand’s fingers snap to collect her attention. “And for Light’s sake. You’re obviously not completely comfortable with it.”

But Lio wouldn’t mind in all honesty. She was cute in turn and maybe the side-comment of something shallow like ‘hot’ could be tagged onto the side. Hair down and all. The spectacles? Maybe.

Cinna sighs and shakes her head. “Look, not like it’s gettin’ married or picking out window dressings. I’ll get over it. I’ll be fine.” She’s quietly and mentally going over her entire pyjama drawer, trying to remember which ones cover the most and which ones are the most lightweight for summertime sleeping. In a bed. With a man.

It’s a short list.

She finally looks back at Liotuse, tucking some hair behind her ear, though with the nature of her hair, it sticks up wildly and looks a bit like some draenish hairstyle rather than just some loose hair behind her ear. “Lio, I just... don’t feel right makin’ you take the floor. Please. You want a way to pay me back, take the bed. That’s how you can pay me back.”

His lips part, though doesn’t return anything to her involving passion. She’s stilled his tongue except only with words. A shame. Cinna got a bit of Liotuse points for throwing some sly his way with the tab he’s started.

“...Pants on or off?” Acceptance. But he’d make her pay for this through teasing and joking around. Will he ever get her back, if gradually. The bunched sleeves on his biceps are jerked on to bring the cuffs back down to his wrists, rolling his shoulders as he looks at her. Then realizes she needed to change. Two seconds to keep his eyes on her before Liotuse turns on a bare heel to stare in the completely opposite direction.

“On, please,” Cinna answers, almost too briskly, before adding, “I’ll let you know if you can ever take them off” even more briskly. And realizing this sounds more like an invitation than she means it to, she slips out of her leggings, vest, and blouse and into the kind of nightshirt and leggings combo that should only ever be allowed after people have been married for ten years. She also removes her glasses and has the quilts pulled all the way up to her neck before she manages to say, in a quiet voice, “Alright, all set.”

He keeps his back turned completely, even mustering the control to not even steal a peek. “I’ll start filing the documents for this tomorrow morning, I’m sure.” A hum and tap of his foot as she changes out of her clothes. Even with being informed on the crisis being cleared, Lio lets a few more moments pass before turning. A grin teases at his mouth as he sluggishly works off his shirt with his good hand. She didn’t say anything about that. Then it’s to the edge of the bed with him, slipping delicately underneath the quilt.

Then he’s wonderfully disrespectful and genuinely curious, lifting the quilt and peering down with what light was available. There’s a soft laugh at her choice of apparel before lowering the cover down. Liotuse is sure to keep at the very side of the bed and give her a hefty portion of it, looking ready to roll over and fall off.

Cinna makes a noise that’s halfway between a shriek and a growl with maybe a groan thrown in there for interest when Lio lifts the covers. “By the fang,” she hisses, holding more tightly to the quilt once he’s had his sneak peek. “If I wanted you to see my ratty sleepin’ clothes, I’d have changed in front of you.” Still, despite her blushing and despite her awkwardness, it’s pretty clear that she’s not really mad at him. She is, after all, smiling. Then again, that might also be because he seems to understand personal boundaries.

“Oh. And I promise not to punch you or anything if you do spontaneously get handsy while you’re sleepin’.” With that, Cinna turns over as if going to sleep. Of course, her eyes are wide open and remain that way for hours. And this close up, she smells pretty clearly of earth, flowers, and cinnamon. If he’s one to notice these things.

“You keep saying things that are digging you a deeper and deeper grave, Cinna. Thankfully.” A small shift could probably be felt by her as he settles a bit more onto the bed. “I’m a gentleman and don’t do anything without consent... beyond grabs. I’ll put that off too.” His eyes close and he just rests on his back, hands down by his sides. Reserved for her sake.

...Except his mouth keeps running. “I was sort of expecting black and lace, actually.”

Cinna raises her eyebrows, still facing the other way. “Do I seem like the black and lace type?” she asks, her voice rising sharply in pitch on the last word. She then coughs a few times, trying to cover up that particular faux pas. “I mean... in that regard, I suppose I should’ve been surprised to see you in simple shorts and not ladies’ hosiery when I came in. If we’re talking about expecting the unexpected, I mean.”

She lies quietly for a few minutes before eventually deciding that she’s comfortable enough to lie on her back and not try and sleep on a square inch of mattress. “Lio isn’t your full name, is it? Forgive me for sayin’ it, but you don’t really look like a Lio. Leo. However you prefer.”

He makes a little amused snort. “It’s hard for a woman to not pull off dark, lacy stuff. But you’d look...” His words trail off as he decides against getting evicted. “Cute in it, I’m sure. The hosiery is only if a woman really gets to know me. Special occasions and whatnot.” His right hand lazily flops over to his chest to rub at his collarbone as he drops the quilt to just above his waist. Comfier like that it seems as he goes still.

“L-I-O. But pronounce like Leo.” The question from her is remembered swiftly and answered accordingly. “Liotuse Antonio Bordeau. Cinna doesn’t sound like a full name either, darlin’.”

Cinna is very glad for the dim light to hide her now beet red cheeks, but even in this lighting, it’s clear that there’s more color in her face. Whether this is at being called “darlin’” or at the words about to come out of her mouth, however, is unclear. “...it isn’t. My parents... well, you see. Harvest witches and all. They’re earthy sorts. I have two younger sisters and one younger brother: the sisters are Saffron and Sage, and the brother is Basil.” She pauses and laughs, almost disbelievingly. “He’s the lucky one.”

A cough and some awkward shifting. She’s trying to get more comfortable without accidental touching, but on a bed this size, that’s nearly impossible. “...Cinnamon. Cinnamon Brighid Diggory.”

His right shoulder pulls in as he acknowledges the room issue, but quickly invades once more to nudge her arm. Then his left hand swings up and over, hovering somewhere above her and awaits for a shake from Cinna. He rolls onto his side and his eyes open. It would be amazingly creepy if Liotuse wasn’t the friendly fellow he was. Thankfully, he’s not all too bad. Hopefully in Cinna’s eyes too as he rests his gaze easily on the side of her head.

“Cinnamon. Yeah I think I’m spot on with the ‘cute’ thing. Especially if it was the theme with your siblings.” A smile brightens his face as he rests his right arm down a little closer to her. Trespassing might be in the near future.

That Lio hasn’t fallen out of the bed laughing at her name is enough for Cinna to decide that he is not, in fact, amazingly creepy. Just slightly. She reaches up to shake his hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Her voice hints at something of a giggle behind the words, and some of that giggle escapes as he calls her cute. She’s inwardly kicking herself, and this shows outwardly in her muttering something that sounds like “get a grip” before rolling over herself, facing her new roommate.

“Yeh, it was cute as long as we didn’t attend the village school, but you know how kids can be. I only attended for a few years before my parents decided to teach us at home, but I don’t think a week went by without someone trying to lick my cheek or something.” Her own grin is slanted, if increasingly relaxed.

Because lying on the side totally dampers the effect of a handshake somehow, he makes sure it’s a hearty and friendly one. As if a gentleman having the honor of being introduced to a lady, the hand is taken to Lio’s mouth and the back of Cinna’s hand is bestowed a most elegant kiss. “A pleasure indeed.”

He neatly settles her hand back underneath the quilt and gives it a pat, ensuring its safe-keeping. “Licking... your cheek.” His face goes deadpan with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “...Lewd and obvious. But. You taste good, huh?” A brow arches as he looks down the... quilt. Not like it was much different than if it weren’t in the way due to her choice of clothes for sleeping.

If this girl was blushing any harder, she’d be leaking blood out her cheeks. Cinna falters for a moment, unsure whether to draw her hand back to the safety of Her Side of the bed or just leave it where it is. She opts for the latter, drumming her fingers somewhat neurotically. “I’ve no idea how I taste, honestly. I simply try to wear cinnamon essence because...well, it’s appropriate, for one, and for two, it helps when deaders or other foul-smelling things are nearby. I mean, not that they can’t be decent individuals, but when your sense of smell is enhanced with that bloody curse, just about anything helps. With the smell, I mean. Not the curse.”

She’s still on her side, watching Lio, because he’s new and interesting and in her bed, what the hell. This reminder is enough to stop her ramble and she shrugs. “Well, you know how kids can be. I doubt they even thought of any other implications.”

Admittedly. He was and enjoyed it there. Twas a comfortable and masterful bed. Her being not hard on the eyes always helped sway the guy too. But on the other hand. Those pajamas, man. Them jammies. “Which I get, yeah. Because they’re all innocent and such. Unfortunately. Hey. I’m Liotuse.” He repeats, tweaking his voice some to have a smooth refined edge. It was the sound of a dapper, dashing middle aged gentleman smoothly running the flat of an elegant blade along a woman’s collarbone. She gives an amused titter and allows him to part one of the two strings of her bra from the primary covering. All with a flick of his wrist to sever the thing with his blade. They both share a small, knowing smile and some brandy.

That’s how Liotuse tries to make his voice. “And I have other implications. Even with this technically being a first date.”

“Date?!” Somewhere, in the back of Cinna’s mind, there is a list of things she didn’t expect Lio to say. Among those things are “I am the Lich King” and “have you ever wondered if our lives are being controlled by small gods in another world sitting at mechanical devices?” and “would you like fries with that?”

And “first date.”

So shocked is Cinna at these words that the witty banter, if they could indeed call it that, comes to a screeching halt and she just stares.

He actually flinches when the word is tossed back to him. She might as well have slapped him. Over the ears. It felt like that anyways with the exclaimation it was. “Easy, easy! I’m kidding. Kidding. That’s it. Harmless joking. I don’t follow through. Er. Without consent.”

Lio’s face is just slowly turning into ash. Ever digging himself into a deeper, stupid hole. Filled with stupid of course. “You’re lovely and all but I sort of am the one owing you and don’t exactly need that fulfillment because I’m sort of our of condition at the moment. Or. Something. Plus I am sure you are fine without sex even if that were to be a request of yours in how I pay you back.”

“...I’ll stop talking.”

Cinna can’t quite hide her awkwardness now, shuffling under the covers. Her hand still hasn’t moved from where he left if, but she’s drumming her fingers doubletime now. It’s almost a twitch at this point. “...it’s not that,” she finally says, her voice a lot quieter than it was before. “I’m not offended or anything, merely surprised. You’re...remarkably attractive, but a girl like me doesn’t stand a chance with someone like you, so I never even considered thinking of you as more than ‘that funny man with the thing about lampposts.’”

“...and anyway, I’ve never even been kissed before, so requesting sex as repayment is entirely out of the question. Not that I don’t know the positives and negatives of such a thing, but...” There’s more awkward fiddling under the quilt, mostly Cinna trying to get her hand to stop. moving.

“Diseases if you aren’t careful. If the other person isn’t clean downstairs and all. Bruising if the couple decides to really get into the swing of things. Positives is like... a high. Afterglow. And... kids could be a negative or a positive. It just involves playing safe.” A moment’s pause. Forgetting something that would and should be typically obvious. “Or. Y’know.” No she doesn’t, Lio. “Sheepskin or one of those fancy concoctions.”

Lio’s eyes narrow and he gives a slight ‘bah’ under his breath. “Listen. That whole... league. Idea. Is silly. Anybody can get anybody it just takes effort. Firsts are supposed to be special though!” He pretty much chirps this. “I’m just some bloody bum. Literally, yesterday. There’s a Mister Right or Miss Right out there for everyone. To take their hand, virginity and kiss-virginity.” Both eyes of his narrow as he thinks on that. “Except everyone steals and the like, because it’s rare that the person you stay with is the one for firsts like that.”

“Or potions. I know, my mother used to brew them and I brew them now.” Cinna relaxes again, though she’s not entirely sure why. Something about the man sharing her bed (oh yeah, there’s that anxiety) has put her entirely at ease, despite the conversation topic. “No, I know how sex works. I know... well. I’ve read mountains of books on the subject. Not that I’m perverted or anything, but I like to read. About everything. As you can likely tell.” Another cough, sort of clearing her thoughts and the air.

“And I mostly say that having seen the women who seem to follow you everywhere you go. They’re... well. Lithe, lovely, and very flirtatious. I can’t see why someone like you would give someone like me a second glance... which isn’t a bad thing! I mean, tastes are tastes and all. Just it didn’t seem prudent to feel wistful over you.” She looks Lio over again, quietly. “Though...well. Yes.”

“No, no. I can tell.” He agrees with a soft, warm laugh. “Means you’re well versed. Just not experienced. Which... can be a sort of deciding factor in things. But who knows with some people.”

A few moments pass as he falls silent with a small smile from her and the conversation he was thoroughly enjoying. Shared in a bed with the woman. All was well. “...Yeah. A few of them are all like that. Easy on the eyes. Fair. Because I’m amazing like that and this is totally possible. To uh... say in front of you. It’d be interesting having a time with each one.” Lio’s stare is awkward for a moment.

“...Anyways. I don’t want to horribly relate these two. But you and your mother brewing those aside and my suggestive joke discarded. You ever cuddled with anyone?” A brow rises, the unease from his own dumb words slowly pushed away.

Cinna tilts her head against the pillow, pursing her lips. “Not really,” she admits. “...I shan’t lie and say that I’ve wished for it before, but well. That can get painful.” And realizing this is dirty laundry and he probably doesn’t care about the secret life of this wallflower, she stops there. “I haven’t cuddled before, no.”

His left hand rises to gesture to... the quilt? No. The woman beneath it. Lio clears his throat gently before speaking. “Mind if I? It’s not so bad, really. Winds up being comfortable and a little warmer than any sort of blanket. You can slap me if you feel anything suspicious or if I start grinding.” The prod of humor being punctuated by a grin.

“Well!” Cinna is at a loss for words for a long moment. Her eyes dart from Lio’s face to his figure and back to his face. Then to the quilt. Then to the chair, almost wistfully. And then back to his face. Her voice carries more seriousness than his at this point. “And what happens if this strikes a chord for me and makes me feel something for you? And when you recover and leave and return to your willowy harem?”

“...It’d be more to the bench than anything.” Even though he didn’t rush through the statement. It was a little too fast for his tastes. Didn’t leave him much thinking time. “Do a little experiment here and there. Make sure I make mysterious, alluring visits during the night now and then.” He skips a beat. “Wonder if I can settle down a little more.”

Cinna tilts her head to the side again, though this time, it’s accompanied with a slanted grin. “I mean no offense askin’, Lio. You’re a decidedly charming roommate and I am very glad that I saved your life. But... I don’t want to risk getting my heart broken.” She hesitates another beat before adding, “...though one night probably won’t completely destroy everything ever. Just... please be...” She makes a whining sound; the word she’s looking for isn’t the one she uses. “...be gentle. With my heart, I mean. With me.”

“It’s a lovely heart considering it didn’t leave me facedown in a puddle of my own blood. Mmmaaaybe I shouldn’t manage too much, lest I mess up. Stumble over myself and risk damaging it.” A brief frown, looking a bit disappointed. In himself, considering she’s been nothing but sweet and the like to him. “Tampering and feeling like I’m pressing the issue. Leave some claims to another guy or something.”

Awkward. Lio shifts some and rolls mostly onto his back, still angling himself somewhat in Cinna’s direction.

Cinna hesitates once more and then moves that hand under the covers until it finds Lio’s hand there. Considering her lack of experience, this is tantamount to straddling him and calling him Papi or something else similarly disturbing. As it is, she simply rests her hand on top of his, fingers still moving idly. “I appreciate it. It... it means a lot. That you’re not takin’ advantage of the situation, I mean.”

The hand is adjusted, but the severely lacking movement might as well have been nonexistant. Liotuse nods once and smiles anew. It’s friendly all over again and bright. “The temptation to use force might have added a little spice to things. But even if my armor isn’t glowing and all. I wouldn’t have much of a right to wear it after.”

“...Plus I’m a little above crying about how much I’m aching and sore until I get some sex as an amazing distraction. I can deal.” Even winking to Cinna now, back in a comfort zone.

Cinna is very glad to be back in this comfort zone, shifting again under the covers until she, too, is mostly on her back. Hand still in place. “Mm, even if I was the type to give myself to men as a distraction, I doubt I’d be good enough to really distract. You’d probably wish you were readin’ that book again.” She’s back to smiling, though now it’s more at the ceiling and the collection of hanging doodads up there.

“You said something earlier about a serious relationship?” she asks after a moment’s pause, trying to balance her curiosity with the knowledge that maybe some people don’t like telling these stories, Cinna.

“Year-long relationship ending with an elongated engagement. Shit got in the way. The roaring flames of love were stomped on.” A sigh through his nose. This topic. Always repeated. Do not want repeat and explanation with ladies.

Being Liotuse though. It’s amazingly easy for him to try and misdirect the topic with Cinna, tweaking his hand enough to make a bowl shape to cup hers some. “You’d be surprised and... possibly enjoy a man just keeping a woman down and in place. While he just goes all the way. It’s a lovely sort of thing and leaves the guy focused intensely. With the added benefit of him being wonderfully exhausted after.”

“I am not having sex with you tonight,” Cinna says in that hilariously serious voice, though she turns her hand over in Lio’s, ending with their fingers linked. “And I’m sorry to bring it up. That was very stupid of me. Just... curiosity killing the cat, I suppose.” Her voice has brightened again, kind of like a kitten clawing the shit out of your hand and then purring against it.

Knowing he wants the topic changed. Being a gracious bed hostess. Cinna tries again. “So what do you do when you aren’t collectin’ a harem or getting stabbed or trying to seduce healers?”

“Well shoot I am going to pack my things and leave n-...” He trails off. Well. That was certainly different and actually rather touching. Cinna’s fingers aren’t left too alone in the effort, Lio curling his between hers and clasping hands in full. “...Leave now. That or pass on overnight because I am still recovering and the cold from no intimacy, not even cuddling, will have taken its toll.”

The smile remains on his face even as his eyes close and he hums contently for a second. “...Heal myself, actually. Socialize. Or obliterate things while screaming and foaming about the Alliance, of course. Beyond that my agenda is... average.”

Cinna has to catch her breath a second at the sudden linked hands, less because it’s new for her (which it is) and more because...well, it was more touching than she expected it to be. She doesn’t pull away any and actually rolls onto her side again, facing Lio. “Average means different things for different people. Average for me is an entire day spent puttin’ books back together in the library and takin’ home the ones they don’t want anymore, but I’ll bet you don’t do that.”

“Oh. And cards and practicing with herbs,” she adds after a beat. It’s now definitely dark enough that he can’t see the color in her cheeks and might even miss that she’s taken the opportunity of a dark room and superior eyesight to finally give him more than a quick glance.

And so, Liotuse relaxes there to be oblivious to the check performed on him. Sort of asking for it with his torso bare. It was more of a spur of the moment to get a reaction sort of thing, so he was all used against his will and such. “I don’t. But it doesn’t sound horribly outlandish to me. Means you’re a smart, well learned and intelligent woman. Clever comes into play as well during cards. Unless you’re utter crap like me.”

“Herbs was... sort of a given. With the performance done on my wounds and inklings of ‘you can do naughty things in me and we’re good’ elixirs that were passed down, apparently.” The last? It would just be impossible for the man to do without a smirk and squeeze of her hand. For good measure.

Cinna is surprised at how easily she returns the squeeze, smiling at him as well, even though he can’t see it. “Not those kinds of cards,” she corrects quickly. “You’ll likely think it’s ridiculous, though... most people do.” She doesn’t offer up much more on the subject of cards, instead turning to outlandish average lives.

“See, it’s entirely normal to me to go through those steps, but I’m certain you’d find a day in my life rather peculiar, just as I’d find a day in your life the same sort of strange.”

Liotuse’s face lightens a bit as he feels her return it. “Like... the fortune cards? Hm. Always gives me chills up the spine when I just... listen.” He works a shoulder and then the other as he lets himself sink into the bedding, lazily flapping a hand out to work the quilt’s edge up higher. Not only over him but her as well. Maybe he’s a little too quick on being so at ease with her, so comfortable to dote like this. The harlot he is.

“It sounds charmingly plain enough. Where my stuff when it gets a bit more excitable maybe is just... flat out dangerous.”

“Like being nearly stabbed to death on parapets?” Cinna asks with a smirk. The quilt-adjusting is accompanied, on her part, by an attempt at snuggling under the quilt without getting closer to Lio, and this half works--she’s more comfortable and decidedly snugglier, but she’s also decidedly closer. Still not so close that things are about to get weird, but closer. She also gives his hand another inadvertent squeeze during this whole snuggling process because bed sharing: how does it fucking work?

Once all that is done (which really only took about half a second), she continues. “Yes, fortune cards. It’s... well, most people think they’re a bit silly. And they are an imperfect art, but...” A shrug, one that he can probably feel more than see.

“Something like that.” The answer’s honest, immediate and light-hearted despite the subject matter. He’s the guy that can laugh off being stabbed twice and slashed across the neck. Oh so casually does his thumb brush at Cinna’s hand though, making a content Liotuse-sigh as he settles with all that hard work done. Charming ladies through the slight nuance of caring about their bed-state. Through quilt interaction. A most difficult task.

“Imperfect as in...? Hard to get right all the time? Sorry for the dumb questions... you know. I just hit things.” The corners of his mouth lift in a smile. “So you’re the professional here.”

Cinna shivers at dat thumb brushing and immediately blushes from that, too. It’s like this girl’s blood is hard-wired to go flooding straight to her cheeks at the slightest provocation. “Imperfect as in it’s reading symbols. See...” She shifts to bring her free hand out from under the covers, gesturing with it pointlessly because it’s not like Lio can see her gestures or like they mean anything. “The cards have images on them. Symbols. When I read them, I interpret the symbols and can divine the future that way. It works very well when I’m reading for myself, but when I’m reading for someone I don’t know...”

Cinna shrugs and drops her hand, inadvertently letting it land on Lio’s chest for half a second before drawing it back like his chest is made of BEES. “Well. If it’s a good fortune, they’re usually rather happy. If it’s not good, they tell me I’m mad and storm off without even leavin’ a tip.”

Cinnamon & Chadley: July 9

Cinnamon stops midstep upon seeing the book on Chadley's lap. With all the hesitance of a skittish thing that is skittish, she approaches. "Em. Excuse me, sir? What book is that, if I might be bold enough to ask?"

Chadley opens the now-dry, but still recently water-damaged book. He flips through each fragile page, frowning as it becomes more apparent that not much has survived. He jumps slightly at the voice and looks up. "Uh- nothing. It's nothing."

Cinnamon holds her bookbag to her chest. Apologetically, she explains, "I work in the book-binding rooms at the Royal Library. It loooks like it's pretty valuable... I wonder if I mightn't just... I mean..." She's looking more at the book than Chadley.

Chadley winces as one of the pages makes an audible 'creak' sound as he tries to turn it. He sets the page down and doesn't try again. The book remains open in his lap, though. "The damage goes beyond the binding," he mumbles.

Cinnamon says: What happened to it? I don't mean to intrude or anything, I'm sorry.

"Fell in the canal," he says sourly, looking down at the open page before him. The water damage has ruined the hand-penned ink, there's barely even any indication of the prayers that once filled its pages.

Cinnamon steps forward and looks down at the page. She cringes slightly at the damage. "This would have to be rescribed, but if it's old enough, the ink would've left an impression. If someone could rescribe it for you... if you know any scribes. Or, well, I know a few, but I might have to slip them some coin to pay for it. But, em. I could rebind it? If I could find someone to rescribe it? I think?"

Chadley 's brows flatten, but he looks up from the book. Not at her, just up. "Interesting. I didn't know this amount of damage wasn't beyond restoration. How much would such services cost?"

Cinnamon says: It depends on the scribe. I have a friend with connections, though. I can ask him and see what his price would be. The rebindin'...
Cinnamon laughs sheepishly, adjusting the pencils in her hair and causing most of it to fall. "...I kind of love rebinding books, so I wouldn't charge. Especially for a gorgeous piece like that."

Chadley finally peers up at the girl. "How do you make a living if you offer your services for free?"

Cinnamon says: I work officially for the library; book-binding's just part of my job. I don't usually get to work with pieces like this one... by the fang, how old do you think it is?

Chadley looks back down to the ancient book in his lap and closes the cover shut. "I am unsure. It seems to pre-date the Silver Hand, yet instructs a number of combat-applicable prayers. I don't know when it was written, and it doesn't say."

Cinnamon lets her bookbag fall to her side and holds her hands behind her back, apparently to keep from making grabby hands at amaaaazinnnnng buuuuuuuk. "I'd guess at least three hundred years. Perhaps more."
Cinnamon says: Also, it was my understanding that combat-applicable prayers were never unique to paladins; they simply came more into favor during the time of the Silver Hand.
Cinnamon says: But I've only begun reading about them recently.

Chadley says: You're correct; it's simply surprising to see them all compiled like this. And three-hundred, you think? Lady S- eh, my superior found it in the Cathedral library. I could ask about it there, maybe.
Chadley says: -- After it's been restored, if that's even possible.

Cinnamon hefts herself up onto the wall several feet away from Chadley and removes her staff from her back, laying it on the wall behind her. "No use givin' up when you haven't tried yet, hmm?" She smiles tentatively before digging in her bookbag. Several books and other artifacts spill out, including a well-worn deck of fortune cards. She finally finds what she's looking for in a small notepad and pen. "What was your name, then?"

Chadley blinks. "Ah- Chadley Fairdale. I, uh- am I to leave this with you?" He looks skeptical- Stormwind is crazy and you shouldn't trust anybody.

Cinnamon writes his name on her notepad in slow, careful penmanship. "No, no! I want to make sure my contact can actually provide some assistance in this before I take that away from you."

Chadley nods. "I understand. This isn't something you need to do, you know. You've known me all of five minutes."

Cinnamon 's cheeks flush as he says this, and she shoves her glasses up on her nose. "Honestly, Chadley Fairdale, I'm doing it less for you and more for that gorgeous book. No offense or anything, though I have only known you five minutes. But I did let a man spend a week in my apartment recovering from stab wounds after knowing him only ten minutes so perhaps I'm just odd like that." She shrugs and begins restuffing her bag.

Chadley stares sort-of deadpan at the tattered, cracked, and now water-damaged leather cover of the book. Despite the damage, the beautiful holy circle design on the front is still quite clear. "I see," he simply says. "Well, thank you anyway."

Cinnamon says: ...I'm Cinna, by the way. Cinna Diggory. I suppose I should've given you my name before askin' for yours or talking about your book or anything, but there you go.

Chadley says: I'm rather used to strange women approaching me and asking about my reading material, oddly.

Cinnamon pauses in her restuffing and raises an eyebrow at Chadley. "Really? I've noticed that about this city. A lot of people tend to be very interested in others' personal business. Though I suppose I'm not helpin' that stereotype."

Chadley says: Not in particular, though you've at least something to offer and don't exist merely to annoy.
Chadley looks up at the Cathedral and eyetics.

Cinnamon says: Mm, you spend a lot of time around Cathedral Square, then. I've had the misfortune of encountering several... circus acts there, I think that's a good way of puttin' it. One girl kept shrinking and asked me to carry her around. It was... odd.
Cinnamon resumes her restuffing, hands resting on her deck of cards. "But then, it seems a prime spot for practice. Have you ever had fortune cards read?"

Chadley says: Did she try to crawl down your shirt? I believe I've witnessed such a thing before, though we could be speaking of two separate occurances. I'd not doubt it.
Chadley says: -- And no. I'd rather remain ignorant of my future, if it's anything like my present.

Cinnamon laughs softly and shakes her head. "Thankfully, I think I managed to communicate rather thoroughly to her that I wasn't interested, or at least she got bored, one of the two. And they don't -really- tell the future."
Cinnamon says: They provide more insight into your current situation and possible outcomes that you should consider when framing your actions.

Chadley says: Yesterday, I learned that genuine mind-reading is possible. I don't know what else is. You're not a mind-reader, are you.

Cinnamon shakes her head, cheeks flushing again. "Oh, by the fang, no. I can do some natural magic, but that's really the extent of it. The cards are... well, they're like books. You read the symbols on them and see how they apply to your life."

Chadley says: ... I see. So they're vague and can apply to anybody.

Cinnamon shrugs a shoulder and places the cards back in her bag. "They could. I've found them to be oddly specific more often than not."

Chadley says: How does that work?

Cinnamon says: Oh, a variety of ways. Sometimes, I'll draw a card that describes to a tee a person I know. Other times, it just paints a relatively accurate picture of events and circumstances.

Chadley says: I'm almost curious how that works. It must be psychological, like you just look for...
Chadley says: -Can I see how it works?

Cinnamon blinks a few times and readjusts her glasses. "Certainly! Let me just shuffle. And while I'm shufflin', I want you to think of something that's been on your mind lately that you haven't an answer to."

Chadley rests his mail-clad forearms atop the cover of the book, watching as she takes out the cards. "Alright."

Cinnamon spreads the cards on the wall between them, all face down. "Now, still thinkin' about what you want to know, choose five cards and lay them face down right here." She indicates the area just above the spread-out deck.

Chadley doesn't take any time at all to pick five cards at random, not stopping to put any consideration or ~feeling~ into it. He places them facedown where he's supposed to. "Okay?"

Cinnamon reaches for the first card. "This card represents your long past." She flips the card over to reveal a man standing alone, looking over a cliff amidst three staves: the three of staves.

Chadley nods slowly. Everyone's got a long past, dammit.

Cinnamon says: Long ago, you began an enduring partnership that's bettered both you and the other person. You also were in a position where you had to take responsibility for your own decisions in order to further your journey towards your goals.

Chadley smirks slightly. "Well, it's not necessarily untrue, but I still say that could apply to almost anybody."

Cinnamon smirks in return and moves on to the second card. "We'll see. In the meantime, this card is about your recent past." She flips the card over, revealing a king holding four gold coins tightly to him against the backdrop of a city: the four of pentacles.
Cinnamon says: So according to this... you recently have been holdin' fast and tight to everything you know because you're afraid you'll lose it all. Maybe you've lost recently or maybe it's just a pattern you've seen, but for whatever reason, you're afraid of things changin' too much or thinkin' of things differently because you don't want to lose more. You're jealous of the people who have what you want, but you're making yourself a stumblin' block by not considering other options.

Chadley stares at the cards. "These cards are beginning to sound like my superiors."

Cinnamon grins and moves on to the third card. "This card represents where you are now." She turns the card over, revealing a woman sitting on a throne and holding a sword aloft: the queen of swords.

Cinnamon says: This card says that you're a very insightful and intelligent person, but it's not enough to simply possess that knowledge. You have to not simply hold it, but actually wield it in order to recover from the losses you've experienced. It also points to a female mentor of some sort; a combat trainer, perhaps, or someone of nobility.

Chadley gives his usual short, incredulous laugh as he looks at the three upturned cards. "You're right, they are very good."

Cinnamon smiles and touches the fourth card. "Then I hope you like what this one says. This is about your immediate future." She turns the card over to reveal a carefree man, smiling as he walks down a path, a bundle on his back: the Fool.

Chadley blinks.

Cinnamon says: Well, this is good news for your superiors: in the near future, you'll learn to let go and let things happen as they happen. This card suggests contentment and happiness, openness to whatever life brings. Sort of... greeting it with open arms, if you will. It also suggests travel.

Chadley doesn't say anything at all, positive or negative, after she explains this card. His subtle perma-frown returns, though.

Cinnamon watches Chadley's reaction before moving to the final card. "This is the one you could call your fortune... your future, overall." She turns the card over, revealing a young man in fancy clothing holding a golden cup: the Page of Cups.
Cinnamon says: Your longterm future looks bright, should things stay as they are. This card speaks to a great deal of spiritual illumination bringin' you great joy. You'll have a more childlike faith, embracing these things for what they are. Love is in your future as are good, strong bonds with a lot of people. And possibly a child.

Chadley snorts at the final addition to his fortune. "Unlikely. Still." He looks up at her. "Very interesting. I still maintain that they can find meaning to anybody, but it's interesting how well they do."

Cinnamon smiles and draws the cards back, stacking them neatly and placing them back in her bag. "I mostly enjoy them for the stories they tell. Still, interesting." She stands after a moment, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "I'm going to head out and see if I can't find that contact of mine and what he'll charge. I'll send you a note if I find anything out. It was nice to meet you!"

Chadley says: Hey, uh- yeah. And thanks again.

Cinnamon says: No problem. Have a good evening.

Cinnamon & Shepard: July 8

Cinnamon glances over at Shepard. "...you seem familiar."

Shepard blinks at you.
Shepard says: I get that a lot.
Shepard leans forward, narrowing his eyes. "Let's see..."

Cinnamon adjusts her glasses and moves over a bench, leaning forward and sniffing the air near Shepard. "Books, ink. New parchment. Oiled wood, salt water, sweat."

Shepard smirks, raising a brow. "Worgen, then? Hm." He mirrors Cinnamon's actions, nose twitching as he begins to name a few scents: "There's... tea. Earthy aromas. Books, too. And- cinnamon." A snort clears his nostrils.

Cinnamon laughs quietly and holds her wrist up to her nose, inhaling deeply. "Cinnamon, yes. You... hmm. Mustn't have smelled like this in the wild, unless you were feral in a library, which is enviable but entirely doubtful."

Shepard says: If only I could -be- so lucky; I was confined to the outskirts of Gilneas, running through the woods. Dodging guard patrols instead of a Librarian's stern gaze.

Cinnamon says: There weren't enough libraries in those woods. If I'd had... mm, I don't know that I'd have needed a ritual, had I found myself in a library. I might've found myself back again with little trouble at all.
Cinnamon smiles sheepishly and adjusts the pencils in her hair, sending half of it tumbling down her shoulders.

Shepard says: Mm, a woman after my own heart. Not often you find another Gilnean with a modicum of civility and a taste for literature.

Cinnamon says: I've found that unfortunately true around here. Not very many come into the library, at least, and the ones that do usually are just lookin' for something tawdry.
Cinnamon says: ...granted, I don't mind the tawdry stuff myself, but.

Shepard says: A book is a book. Another world, a bounty of information... even the most mundane texts make me happier than a Goldshire whore during the evening.

Cinnamon laughs, pressing her hands against her cheeks to cover the flush that comes to them. "Well, I've not much experience with the latter, but you can hardly pass through my apartment from all the books I bring home with me."
Cinnamon says: Books and tea and cards.

Shepard says: I've no experience at all with whores- well. Not counting the ones that graze around Stormwind, taking a fancy to the fur-covered man sitting on a bench...
Shepard 's head hangs down, resting against his chest for a moment before he looks up. "But! Cards, you say?"

Cinnamon mutters something about charming paladins attracting whores as well, though she laughs at Shepard's response. "Not playin' cards, mind."

Shepard says: Oh, I never had an interest in those to begin with. What kind, though?

Cinnamon says: Fortune cards.

Shepard says: Fortune? Is that right... Light, I haven't had my fortune read in -years-. Not since- well. Gilneas.

Cinnamon says: Not many people have their fortunes read with frequency. Where in Gilneas did you say you were from?
Cinnamon begins to dig in her bookbag as she asks this, spilling several books on the ground along with several notebooks, before finally coming up with a well-loved pack of fortune cards.

Shepard says: Don't believe I ever did, but... Blackwald. Lived with my grandmother.

Cinnamon pauses in shuffling her deck and looks up. "...the Lovellses?"

Shepard says: That- would have been us, yes.
Shepard narrows an eye, leaning forward. "You knew us, then?"

Cinnamon nods eagerly, also leaning forward. "When you were wee, you had those sleepin' problems! Mum and Dad... we were practically neighbors! Sort of, I mean. As much as people can be neighbors in the Blackwald."
Cinnamon says: D'you remember the Diggorys?

Shepard cranes his head to the right, curiously sizing Cinnamon up. "I- do, yes..." His eyes begin to dart from side-to-side, a measure of familiarity slipping onto his face.

Cinnamon flushes slightly and turns to shuffling her cards. "I'm Cinna. The oldest."

Shepard gapes a little, his head slowly nodding. "... Light, is it really?" He points to himself. "Shepard- though you probably already knew that." He flicks his wrist, snorting.

Cinnamon looks up from the cards again, smiling. "Yeh, I did. I have to admit, I didn't expect to ever see you again, and wouldn't have recognized you if not for the smell... which sounds amazingly creepy, I'm sorry."

Shepard holds a hand up, chuckling. "Well. Under normal circumstances it would, but we're in Stormwind." His hand now rises, gesturing to the area surrounding them.

Shepard says: And remarkably, that was the sanest, most normal thing I've heard all day.

Cinnamon says: I'm happy to oblige. You must spend a lot of time around this Square, then?

Shepard says: I'm the resident gargoyle who dispenses snippets of common sense and logic. Not an easy job.

Cinnamon says: I could've used someone like that a few times, honestly. Assumin' Lio isn't always here to assist with your duties.

Shepard says: We alternate, really. I'm normally here more often, but his assistance is welcomed.

Cinnamon says: Ah, I'm afraid I have to take some responsibility for him being away lately. Or, well. I actually can't take responsibility, since he was the one who insisted on stayin'.

Shepard says: Hm? Is that right?

Cinnamon coughs awkwardly and nods, scratching the hair at the back of her head. "Yeh, found him by accident. Only I think he wants to keep it down, either in a gentlemanly fashion or because he's embarrassed."

Shepard 's lips tug into a grin, but he glances away. "Mm, hard to say with him."

Cinnamon says: Is he really as lecherous as he seems?

Shepard says: I haven't known him that long to truly say. I know he was married at one point, and has commented that he's 'enjoying' his status as a bachelor.
Shepard says: Well, not married- engaged.

Cinnamon says: He told me as much. He's... well. He is. I shall leave it at that.

Shepard says: He's a good man, underneath it all. But even I find it difficult to sift through that smoke-and-mirror show.

Cinnamon says: Mm, it's difficult to tell when he's bein' sincere and when he's playing around. But... anyway, would you like your fortune read?

Shepard smiles warmly, nodding. "I'd love that."

Cinnamon grins and finishes shuffling the cards. She beckons Shepard over to the bench, shifting to make room for both him and the deck, which she spreads before her.
Cinnamon says: Think of what you'd like to know and choose five cards.

Shepard slides off the planter and drifts to the bench, sitting down quietly. "Hmm..."

Shepard clicks his tongue, nodding as he follows instructions -- five cards are chosen.

Cinnamon takes the rest of the deck and lays it aside. She sets the five cards out in order. "The first card relates to your distant past," she explains and flips it over.
The card displays a man in a red cloak walking away from eight golden cups under a moonlit sky: the eight of cups.
Cinnamon says: According to this, you lost interest a ways back in something that was very important to you. It wasn't your choice... you -had- to abandon something you loved deeply and devoted yourself to. You sought the temporal in place of the eternal.

Shepard flicks an ear, nodding. He sits in silence, waiting for Cinnamon to continue.

Cinnamon holds her hand over the second card. "This represents your recent past." She flips the card over; it shows a wreathed man riding a horse, surrounded by celebratory staves. The six of wands.
Cinnamon says: ...but after that, things started lookin' good for you. Recently, too. You've resolved something important to you, and that makes you happy. It was a great struggle gettin' where you were, but you've realized some hopes and desires of yours.

Shepard shifts in place, his sense of wonder growing by the minute.

Cinnamon moves on to the third card. "This represents where you are now." She flips the card over to reveal two peasants huddling in the snow beneath a stained glass window: the five of Pentacles.
Cinnamon says: It looks like your business is goin' through a difficult time right now. You're facin' some hardship or another. Whatever it is, you're in need of comfort and need to only look right beside you to find it, only you don't always realize that.

Shepard is now awaiting the next card with bated breath, looking very much like an excited child.

Cinnamon chuckles at Shepard's reaction. "How am I doin' so far?" she asks, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

Shepard says: ...eerily accurate.

Cinnamon grins sheepishly and moves on to the next card. "Then I hope this is good news; this is your immediate future." She turns the card over, revealing five young men fighting with sticks. The five of staves.
Cinnamon says: ...huh. It looks like you'll be competing for...-something- in the immediate future. Not for anything important; if anything, it's for the fun of competition, and everyone involved will be good sports about it.
Cinnamon says: It will be stressful and filled with small disputes, but ultimately, it'll bring out the best in everyone involved.
Cinnamon says: Now, this last card is technically your "fortune"--it's the far-reachin' future.

Shepard has simply stopped breathing, eyes wide and urging Cinnamon to finish his reading.

Cinnamon turns over the final card to reveal nothing but eight rods soaring through the air above a peaceful landscape: the eight of staves.
Cinnamon says: Hmm. This says that in your future, you'll see a sudden release of raw energy. You'll be more powerful than you could've imagined, quick about decidin' things about love, life, and everything. And those decisions will bring you rapidly towards your goals.

Shepard exhales, looking relieved. "Ah, Light... some good news!" He throws his head back, cackling.

Cinnamon grins, gathering the cards and placing them with the rest of her deck. "A good reading, then?"

Shepard says: Accurate -and- uplifting. That was wonderful.

Senkha & Nialos: July 2

Senkha approaches with the courage of a brave thing that is brave. This all dissipates in seconds when she sees Nialos; her carefully-prepared speech dissolves into a weak, "Daddy?"

Nialos slowly looks up from his book -- and it's totally a book -- and glances to Senkha. His sagging features betray the obvious: he's tired. "Hey there, dear."

Senkha approaches, chewing on her lower lip, almost to the point of it being bloody. "Can we walk and talk?"

Nialos quietly shuts the book, tapping the spine against the ledge. "Sure," he answers, tossing the novel down onto the mailbox.

Senkha reaches out to take Nialos' hand. "Not far. Just... somewhere quieter."

Nialos stares at the hand. There's very little emotion as he takes it. Not even a smile. "Alright."

Senkha squeezes gently and leads the way.
Senkha sits, gesturing for Nialos to do the same. "I've... had an interesting week. And I've realized that being my father must be more than hell on you. Especially lately."

Nialos shrugs, his gaze wandering around the surrounding area. "Just another day, dear," he mutters. The usual warmth is gone from his voice.

Senkha shakes her head. "That's just it. Some... things happened. I've realized that everyone I love and have grown to love this past year, I've been killing. I've hurt you with everything I've done. And that knowledge kills me."

Nialos says: To be fair, I haven't been the best father- at all, actually.

Senkha says: But you have! Dad, you've been better to me than anyone has. Simply because I've made stupid decisions doesn't make you a bad father! If anything, it means you were... unlucky. You chose a girl for a daughter who was already damaged beyond repair.
Senkha says: You're the only reason I feel I'm worth anything. You care enough to tell me to -stop- when I'm doing something stupid and to hurt me for my own good, not because you're a sadist or interested in indulging my masochism.

Nialos lowers his head. "Senkha, a father should be capable of helping his daughter beyond simple pep talks. A father should be capable of saving his child." The Lichfire eye dims, almost as if it symbolize how weak he feels. "I couldn't do that with William, and..."
Nialos says: I haven't been able to as much I should have for you.

Senkha gets down off of her bench and kneels in front of Nialos. She looks like she's pleading with him. How pathetic. "You -have- saved me, Dad. I don't want to hurt you anymore. I don't want to fall. I won't let myself leave grace so far behind that you have to do to me what you did to William. I'm -not him-."

Nialos regards Senkha with a heavy dose of uncertainty. "...I'm sorry," he whispers. "But I don't know if I can believe that."

Senkha closes her eyes; the amount of pain showing on her face is immeasurable. Her hands are shaking, and it takes her a while to gather her thoughts. "You once told me something. You told me that parenthood is pain. That it's fighting. That it doesn't stop."
Senkha says: But you said, too, that you don't. Give. Up.
Senkha says: Daddy, please... -please- don't g-give up on me.

Nialos hides his face away, burying it deep within his palms. The elderly Knight shudders, shoulders sagging. "I'm- tired, Senkha. I'm just... tired. Tired of fighting, tired of losing everything. -Everyone-." His arms drop down to his sides.
Nialos says: ...I'm tired of being the last one standing.

Senkha moves so that she's sitting on the bench and, without asking if this is at all okay, wraps her arms around Nialos' shoulders, pulling him close. She's crying, but it's quiet and still. "You don't have to carry that load alone. Please... I want to help you. I've wanted to help you carry all these burdens for so long, but you never said a word. You only ran. Daddy, please... stop running. Please st-stay. Please."

Nialos let's his head fall to rest on Senkha; whatever strength was left in him has completely vanished. "...I just want it to end, Senkha. I want my heart back - I want my strength back." He bites back a sob. "I want my Alma back. She'd- she'd know... she'd tell me how to get through this..."

Senkha holds Nialos tightly against her. Her hands are still shaking. "We'll find her. I will find her for you. It's the least I can do for you, Dad. I... we'll find her. We will. You'll have her again."

Nialos inhales -- certainly out of habit -- before he actively shivers against Senkha. "I want to believe it... I really do."

Senkha continues to hold onto her father as if she's afraid he'll fall away if she lets go. She rests her cheek against his head. "But after so many heartbreaks, you can't help but think that things will never change," she says quietly.


Senkha closes her eyes and clenches her jaw a moment before asking, "What do you -want- to do?"

Nialos admits quietly: "I'm... I. Want to die."

Senkha winces at this. Barely audibly, she admits, "Me too," though she cleverly attempts to cover this up by asking, even more painfully, "Do you think it's time? Do you think it's time for you to rest?"

Nialos says: It has been my time for so very, very long, Senkha. But I'm still here.

Senkha 's eyes remain closed, though she presses a kiss to Nialos' head. "If that's what you want..." She pauses and swallows a sob, trying to keep this to pretty tears and a quiet voice. "If that's what you want, then I... could-help-you." The last words are so mechanical that she may as well be a robot. There's no less pain in them for their mechanical nature.

Nialos slowly shakes his head, and for the whatever reason, the runes along his blade pulsate. "It's been my time, Senkha, but." He stares her dead in the eyes. "You wouldn't do it. And I wouldn't want you to."

Senkha can't help but let out a shaky breath of relief because she -really- did not want to do that. "Then please... -please-. I don't want you to suffer like this. Tell me what I can do. Let me help you somehow."

Nialos drops his head back against Senkha, sighing. "Just- please." The runeblade hums for a split-second, runes flashing to life. Then everything grows dull and quiet. "... Stop being an idiot. Please."

Senkha laughs, in spite of herself, and it comes out all messy and gross. "They say, don't they, that admitting you have a problem is the first step? I've been doing a lot of that this week." After a beat, she adds, "I am so sorry, Dad. For everything, for the hell I've been putting you through, for not saying this earlier. I could never hope that you'd be able to forgive me."

Nialos 's lips tug into a smile. It's a start. "I've a perfect track record when it comes to forgiveness, dear."

Senkha hugs Nialos tightly again, letting out a quiet sob, though she's laughing too. Emotions, how do they fucking work. "I love you, Daddy. Please... please don't want to die. Let me bear some of the load, too. Let Oliver. You don't have to carry the world on your shoulders alone. And... besides, what happens when we find Alma and you haven't waited for her?"

Nialos says: To be completely honest.
Nialos says: I hadn't thought that through.
Nialos manages a weak laugh. "Let Shepard take the helm, now. He's old enough - hell, he's all but becoming me."

Senkha says: ...no wonder he looked so drawn today. I heard a rumor, by the way, passing through the square earlier, that he's getting himself married. But... that's beside the point.
Senkha says: The point is that if you -didn't- wait for Alma, then I would, in fact, be an idiot and -master- necromancy, just so I could bring you back and let her slap you.
Senkha says: For the record.

Nialos deadpans. "... I'm pretty sure my corpse wouldn't like that. Nor me, for that matter. I'd punch you in the gut."

Senkha also deadpans. "In those circumstances and to allow Alma that chance, it'd be worth it."
Senkha says: Besides, I probably wouldn't be very good at it, so you'd likely come back as a mindless, albeit punchable, ghoul.

Nialos says: ...
Nialos says: Let's stop talking about necromancy.

Senkha says: Yeah that's a good idea.
Senkha says: ...you should know, though, before we do--I've no intention of following that course of study. All I've done is stop Oliver's body when he's going to hurt someone and mended it once. That's it. But that's all I will say about it.

Nialos grunts. "Right."

Senkha says: So. Aside from dying. What would you like to do?

Nialos says: ... Be alive?
Nialos says: Because it's going to be awfully hard to explain to my living wife why her husband is an undead killing machine.

Senkha says: "The Scourge sucks. But I'm here for ya, babe!"?
Senkha gives a thumbs-up?

Nialos says: ... She's slap me for the 'babe' comment.

Senkha says: What did you call her?

Nialos says: Love, dear, Alma, Decker on rare occasions...

Senkha says: ...Decker?

Nialos taps his patch. "Decker."

Senkha grins, wrapping her arms around Nialos' shoulders again. "So. The Scourge sucks, but I'm here for ya, Decker."

Nialos chuckles, forcing a smile. "I'd just want it to be perfect. And that'll take a miracle."

Senkha shrugs, shaking her head. "If it was me and Oliver, I wouldn't care about it being perfect. I'd just be happy to see him again. And I think Alma will be the same way."

Nialos says: ... I can hope, I guess.

Senkha says: When we find her, I'll make sure you know ahead of time so you can prepare something.

Nialos says: Mm. If you say so...

Senkha reaches down to squeeze Nialos' hand. "I just have a feeling that it'll happen really soon. And I will figure out a way to make it perfect for you."

Nialos says: A feeling, huh?
Nialos snorts. "What, got a contact with some higher being or something?"

Senkha chuckles. "Didn't you know? I have a ~sixth sense~ about this kind of thing. It's why I make a very good rogue."
Senkha says: Not a good mender. But a good rogue.

Nialos says: Well. At least one of my kids should be non-magical- to a degree.
Nialos says: Fuck magic.

Senkha says: Seriously. Fuck magic.
Senkha adds, after a beat, "...and the mind stuff isn't magic. For the record."

Nialos says: Eh, like I'd know... it's all mumbo-jumbo to me.
Nialos sighs. "The irony that I'm running on -- and use -- magic."

Senkha says: Life is full of ironies like that.

Nialos says: ... Let's go sit by the fountain. On Gilneas.
Nialos says: I kinda miss that thing.

Senkha says: Let's.
Senkha says: I do too. I've not been there in a long time.
Senkha says: ...besides tonight.

Nialos says: Well. Lead the way, dear. Your father needs a guide tonight.

Senkha rises and takes Nialos' arm. She holds onto him tightly and repeats, in a whisper, "I love you, Daddy."

Nialos hefts himself, smiling softly. "... I love you, too. My darling daughter."

Mairèad & Shepard: July 1 (part II)

Mairèad says: ...Shep, I gotta say. I'm kinda disappointed in that story.

Shepard says: ... What? Why?

Mairèad is smiling like a retard still, so obviously she's not -that- disappointed. "Cause we ent gunna go hide under th'lake or anythin' and you'd better not stop singin'."
Mairèad says: But...I always hoped that story would end this way.

Shepard huffs, shaking his head. "If I had more time..." he says, grinning.

Mairèad says: Well. Before you send that one to th'printers, you should change the end. That'd be wicked. But... well, I dunno. Fer print, I guess th'sadder endin' works.
Mairèad says: Also, holy shit, this -booty-.
Mairèad is not going to stop talking about the booty. She might bone the booty and not Shep.

Shepard says: ...it's literally magical, too. Transformed something ordinary into- well. That. So you're carrying a chunk of me around at all times.

Mairèad says: ...this ent a soulstone, is it?

Shepard says: Nnnno.

Mairèad shifts, examining the ring. It sparkles. It is pretty. And piraterdins like sparkly, pretty things. "Oh good. What is it? I nevarrr seen anythin' like it."

Shepard says: Well, mages can summon gems and such, and it's a fairly easy spell. I can manage it even without most of my abilities.

Mairèad grins and hugs Shepard warmly. "That whole thin' was amazin'. As soon as I saw th'rain, I knew. And... well, if it hadn't been fer Tenoly, I think I'd'a cried."

Shepard says: ... I think I 'grew' on Tenoly. In the wrong way.

Mairèad says: ...ew.
Mairèad says: That... ew. Looks like we decided this jest th'right time.

Shepard says: ... Hey Mair? Could we just go somewhere nice and... talk?
Shepard says: After today, I think- I think I need it.

Mairèad nods and rests her head on Shepard's shoulder. "Anythin' you want, love."

Shepard says: Right then. Back around we go.

Mairèad says: Wanna spend th'night on the boat?

Shepard says: Sounds like a good idea.

Mairèad grins, swinging her feet slightly. "Actually, we could spend a couple days. I can jest put her out t'sea enough that we ent near th'mainland."
Mairèad says: Set down the anchor.
Mairèad says: Y'know. That.

Shepard says: I don't know... lot of people need me here to insult them, and poke holes in their plans with logic.

Mairèad says: ...you've had a longer day than y'let on, haven't you?

Shepard says: Days, really.

Mairèad kisses Shepard's temple. "I'm sorreh, Mine. I'm sorreh I contributed."

Shepard shrugs. "That- really wasn't so bad."

Mairèad says: Well, mebbe start at th'beginnin'.
Mairèad says: And when y'get to the end, stop.

Shepard says: Well.
Shepard says: I killed a worgen on the Cathedral's steps.
Shepard says: Lopped its head off.

Mairèad 's cheerful expression flattens immediately. "What."

Shepard says: It was attacking someone, and... well.

Mairèad settles down off of Shepard's back, resting on the captain's bed. Because she's like that. "Oh Light, Shep. I wish you'd said somethin'."

Shepard grunts, settling down beside Mairead. "Well, you had a lot on your mind -- Lius, Stehl, paladinhood -- and I didn't want to contribute."

Mairèad says: Nah, that wouldn't've contributed. It would've kept me mind off that shit. Kept it on you, which is th'best place fer it.

Shepard says: It wasn't- wasn't too bad, really. He was a worgen. Possibly feral, even.
Shepard nods. "I- I did the right thing."

Mairèad says: You did. You were savin' people's lives. And he was beyond help. You probably put him outta his misery.

Shepard says: What's weird is, I always thought that now I'd feel something -- anything -- if I killed one of my people. But. There was nothing.
Shepard says: ... Well, I was irritated, but I don't think that counts.

Mairèad says: Did you know him?

Shepard says: No. Just another face in the crowd.

Mairèad says: That's probably why. It wasn't rilly that it was one 'a yer people... it was a dangerous person what needed t'be stopped. I mean, would you've felt anythin' if it was a human?

Shepard says: ... Hungry? Ah, that's terrible... but no.
Shepard flops onto his back, sighing. "Then earlier in the day... a Warlock was staging a 'silent' protest."

Mairèad snickers and squeezes Shepard's hand. "Then that's jest it. It's not about yer people or me people or anythin'."

Shepard says: Well, my people are morons- and I think the Shattering shattered their heterosexuality.

Mairèad says: Not yers, at least.

Shepard says: Mmm... so. Are you really going to be a Lovells?

Mairèad takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, eyes going wide. "Are you gunna go by Lovells or Grrrrhelm?" she asks. She's totally serious about the Grrrr part, too.

Shepard lifts a brow. "'Grrrrhelm', hm? I'm tempted to take that for the irony. But... I've been a Lovells all my life, so I'll go with that."

Mairèad says: Then yahar. I wanna be a Lovells. Mairèad Isolde Lisa Fallon-Lovells.

Shepard says: Aha, decided to go that route, hm?
Shepard says: ... What do you think your mother will say?

Mairèad says: I still got time to decide, right? Not like we're gettin' married tomorrow. We need t'wait fer a naval battle.
Mairèad says: She is gunna shit a brick. So will Bryn, fer that matter.

Shepard says: ... Wait, naval battle? Oh, that's right...

Mairèad says: Mmhm.
Mairèad says: Preferably in th'rain fer luck.

Shepard says: I'm still not sure that's how weddings are actually done... at least, not on land.

Mairèad says: How are weddin's done on land?

Shepard says: If I remember it right, my grandmother described it as...
Shepard speaks as if he's reading off a cue card. "Pleasant, if loud. There were decorations, food, drinks and hundreds of people. I wore a white dress, while your grandfather was dressed in the most dashing of suits."
Shepard coughs.

Mairèad suddenly looks horrified. "I ent gotta wear a dress -again- do I?!"

Shepard says: I- don't think- well. If you -really- don't want to, why should you?

Mairèad says: Plus ent white dresses fer virgins?

Shepard says: Well. I'm not sure.
Shepard says: I just thought you- wore dresses. Or something.

Mairèad says: ...how about dress armor?

Shepard says: ...do I have to wear a suit?

Mairèad says: I think we can wear whatever th'fuckin' hell we wanna wear.

Shepard says: I think. That sounds like a brilliant idea.
Shepard says: And- hm. Maybe I can arrange for, like... a fight to break out.

Mairèad giggles. "We're gunna hafta have it in the Cathedral, ent we? And let errybody what wants t'come show up."

Shepard says: Oh. Oh Light. That'd just be-
Shepard shudders. "Do you honestly want someone like -Tenoly- showing up?"

Mairèad says: That's why we get security. Kialthos'd be so happy.

Shepard says: Nngh. But then there'd be a scene, and... well. I suppose we'll think of something.
Shepard says: Not like this all has to happen right away. ... Right?

Mairèad says: Oh shit no. I still think we should wait fer a naval battle.

Shepard says: And tell me, my dear, what a naval battle is like.

Mairèad says: Well. First thin' what happens, th'ships come alongside each other. This is if one hasn't blow th'other to smithereens while chasin'. They open cannon fire and th'goal's to sink the other ship.
Mairèad says: When yer close enough, half th'people from each ship swing over to the other one and stab and shoot the evarrrlivin' fuck outta the crew.
Mairèad says: It ends when a captain parleys.

Shepard says: ... And this is how a wedding for you goes.

Mairèad says: Noo, the weddin' takes place in th'middle of all that. I seen me mam do it dozens 'a times.
Mairèad says: Y'gotta keep fightin' while it happens or it ent bindin'.

Shepard says: That sounds- what if one of us died? Somehow.

Mairèad says: That's why y'get married.

Shepard says: But. Then you got married, and I'm dead.
Shepard says: That seems depressing.

Mairèad says: Or you get married and I'm dead. So... mebbe the Cathedral's best.

Shepard says: Or maybe... hm. I'll have to collaborate with Wilhiem. -We'll- have to collaborate with him.
Shepard says: And Vandrin. He helped come up with tonight's idea.

Mairèad says: Vandrin is highly clevarrr. I hope he realizes that. And Wil seems pretty wicked, too.

Shepard says: ... I liked my original idea better, though.

Mairèad says: What was yer original idea?

Shepard says: I tried getting Wil and Vandrin to act as a couple.

Mairèad blinks several times and then bursts out laughing. "That woulda been a sight! I'll betcha Tenoly woulda shit even more bricks."

Shepard says: And Emi...
Shepard lets out a long, drawn-out sigh.
Shepard says: Probably would have been better with the original idea, too...

Mairèad says: Poor Emi. Must've been 'cause it was Vandrin that she was jest standin' there like a fish.

Shepard says: I don't know. But I suppose Sid saved the show.

Mairèad says: Nngh. I hate her, but she is a very good actress.

Shepard snorts. "... I noticed Bryn was chatting with you. How is she?"

Mairèad's happy expression fades again. "Drunk and actin' like Lius. So... shitty."

Shepard says: Do you think you should talk to her, or...?

Mairèad says: I tried. She... well, she started fightin' with some random Night Elf. Then she said she'd try harder tomorrow.

Shepard says: And by harder, she means... what? Drinking, fighting and screwing at the same time?

Mairèad says: I got no idea. I told her to either drink or not drink, not try one or th'other.

Shepard says: Maybe you should check in on her tomorrow, then. Make sure she's doing alright.

Mairèad says: That's what I was gunna do. I'm jest glad she ent run across Stehl.

Shepard says: ... I'm sure Stehl has plenty of questions for her, yes.

Mairèad says: Why questions?

Shepard says: Remember? Stehl menti--
Shepard freezes, then shakes his head. "Nothing."

Mairèad says: ...Shep, what'd Stehl mention?

Shepard says: ... He- he mentioned that Lius had more than one request.

Mairèad says: What'd Lius request?

Shepard looks away, obviously trying to hide the biggest frown ever. "... I'm not- I'm not sure I should tell you. It's... what made Stehl so angry yesterday."

Mairèad swallows hard. "It ent somethin' I did, is it?"

Shepard says: -No-. No.

Mairèad says: Then what?

Shepard says: I just don't- Mair. I don't think it'd make your life any easier to know.

Mairèad sighs and then just turns and relaxes against Shepard. "Tell me in th'mornin'?" she asks quietly.

Shepard says: ... Maybe. We'll see.

Mairèad laughs quietly and snuggles close, going into that sleepy-girl-is-cute mode. "Mmmkay. Hey, I love you."

Shepard snakes an arm around the sleepy cute girl, smiling. "Love you too, my dear."

A Typical Night in Cathedral Square

Mairèad half looks up from her libram and jumps to see Bryn, as if expecting anything but the other girl sitting there. "Oh! Light, I wasn't expectin' you there."

Bryn deadpans, "I be errrwhar."
A sly smirk spreads across Bryn's face.

Mairèad says: Yer like magic or somethin'.

Bryn says: I'ma wizard.
Bryn says: In disguise.

Mairèad glances across the Square to where Shepard is talking. "How're you doin', then, wizard?"

Bryn follows her gaze curiously, "Hungover. You?"

Mairèad says: Well, Stehl's turnin' into rill fire and yelled at me last night and I hugged a deader and fought with Shep, but then we made up, and... hopefully thin's are good. I hope. Distractin'.

Bryn says: ... uh-huh.
Bryn says: I wish I could say that sounds outta th'ordinary.

Mairèad says: No, y'rilly don't. Shep told me about all th'outta the ordinary thin's what happened today, like that elf over there? With th'pigtails? Y'don't wanna be part 'a that shit.

Bryn says: Mefinks enny elf wiff pigtails 's somfin' I don' wanna be part of.

Mairèad says: That one fer special. She's th'type what goads people into hittin' her and then gets pissy when they do.

Bryn says: Sounds rill, uh, special.

Mairèad says: That's one word fer it.

Taylinda sighs softly before running over to the bench and throwing up her hands in exhausperation. "I don't goad anyone! Quiet with your slander! Sheesh!"

Mairèad says: Yahar, y'do.

Bryn stares Taylinda down.

Taylinda says: No, I don't. You're not in my bloody head.

Mairèad says: Don't hafta be. It don't gotta do with yer head. It's gotta do with yer behavior.

Bryn says: ... Hoi, y'dress like a whore an' sound like an even dumber whore.

Mairèad says: I wasn't even -talkin'- t'you.
Mairèad says: You talked t'me.

Bryn says: Yer th'one tha' keeps goin' back t'her.

Taylinda says: ...This is whorish? Then...
Taylinda points at Feloraea.
Taylinda says: SHe's a whore too?
Taylinda says: And she?
Taylinda points at Juhla.

Mairèad says: Th'point: yer missin' it.

Taylinda says: Oh heck that lady has an exposed naval.

Mairèad makes a whoosh sound, zooming her hand over her head.

Bryn snickers at Taylinda.

Taylinda says: So pretty much you called half the women here a whore. What a nice person.

Mairèad says: Think all her brains went into her pigtails.

Bryn says: Maybe 's like how bugs don't have brains just spines.
Bryn says: So like...

Bryn says: Her spines are in her pigtails.
Bryn says: Yeah.
Bryn says: Makes sense.
Bryn says: Oh look, she turned into a cat.

Mairèad says: Somehow, I ent surprised.

Bryn laughs.
Bryn says: We can leave it at "dumb bint 's dumb".
Bryn says: I don' see elves. I see purple humans.
Bryn says: Purple humans everywhere.

Mairèad says: Their ears are too long.
Mairèad says: Humans don't got ears that long.

Bryn says: But I wanna be an elf now.
Bryn says: Me name is Bryn N'ounverb Gobblypoo Adj'ectivebutt.

Mairèad peers searchingly at Bryn. "...are y'drunk again?"

Bryn says: Hungover.
Bryn says: Mebbe a wee bit buzzed.

Taylinda sighs softly and walks down the road, her ears drooped and her head low.
Taylinda sighs softly and glances between random people. "I don't get it..."

Bryn sets her hand on her forehead. "Oh, I don't get it. Why ev'ryone 's a stupid twat t'me. I am a snowflake in a world of yellow snow on a plain of snowiness."
Bryn says: Hoi... oaky. Maybe a wee bit drunk. Buzzed. I said buzzed.

Artim says: I think you should blame the one that turned the snow yellow, though. Go talk to him about it.

Bryn says: Well th'fucktit tha' pissed in'the snow deserves a punch in the throat.

Mairèad says: ...how buzzed is buzzed, Bryn?

Artim says: But that fucker ruined it all.

Bryn says: I'unno.

Mairèad says: How many drinks?

Bryn says: ... define drinks.

Mairèad says: Alcoholic beverages.

Bryn says: What d'yeh call them wee glasse- Oh. Shots. Um... fiiiive shots.
Bryn says: Close.

Mairèad says: ...-five- shots?

Artim says: If they say five, it was really more than ten.

Bryn says: To somfin' like tha'.
Bryn says: I said 'm buzzed.
Bryn says: Not drunk.

Artim says: And if they say ten, it was.. alot.

Bryn says: Nyeeeh.

Mairèad says: Bryn, y'ent but wee and y'ent got a great tolerance I don't think.

Artim says: She wasn't completely shitfaced.

Bryn says: I can see straight!
Bryn says: Mebbe I jus' act too seeryus 'round you.

Artim says: .. how many fingers am I holding up?
Artim raises four digits.

Bryn stares Artim down.
Bryn says: Four fuck yous an' a kick t'the purple balls.

Artim --one is a thumb. Derp.
Artim says: You're so polite, humie.
Artim says: I wonder why you were drinking in the first place.

Bryn says: Yer so edgy an' cool, elfy.

Artim says: Hell to the fuckin' yes.

Bryn says: I wanna be like you when I grow up.

Mairèad says: Bryn, yer... y'sound li--

Bryn says: Wiff th'headband an' shit.

Artim says: You're probably older than me.
Artim says: Oldy-pants.

Mairèad sighs and shakes her head, her previous cheerful mood dissipating. "Nevarrmind."

Artim says: -McCrabby.

Bryn says: Crabby? Naw, only hoors get tha'.
Bryn says: In th'pants.

Artim says: Zing.

Bryn says: So watch out fer ennyfin' wiff pigtails.
Bryn says: I hear they got all th'fun stuff down souf.

Artim says: Pigtails make women look stupid.

Bryn says: Ayerp.

Sidoni yells: Wilhiem! Ya big ol'hunkin' handsome piece of manmeat! Where are ya, heart of my heart?!

Wilhiem yells: C'here, you.

Bryn freezes. That voice.

Mairèad looks up at the sky. "...was that...?"

Bryn says: FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

Mairèad says: Bryn, don't do anythin' stupid. She's jest an old bitch with saggy tits.

Bryn covers her face with her hands, cursing rapidly and loudly.

Artim says: ...
Artim says: Kiss your mother with that mouth?

Bryn says: People tell me me mam was a fifteen year old drug addled whore.

Artim says: She's probably right, though.

Bryn says: So mebbe.

Mairèad says: ...Light's sake.

Artim says: Human.

Mairèad says: And I don't kiss me mam, she don't swing that way. But she's worse'n I am, so...

Artim says: You're my new best friend.

Bryn says: Don' wanna be yer bes' friend. Y'look stupid.

Artim says: Too bad.
Artim says: Now we can skip through the forest, and have a fucking tea party.

Bryn says: Aw fuck yiss.

Artim says: Cuddle our new-found forest friends.
Artim says: Water some gods-damned flowers.
Artim says: Make a fuckin' leaf pile.
Artim says: And jump in that shit.

Bryn says: Hey knife ears, leave her be.

Artim says: -What?

Bryn says: Let her grow some fuckin' flowers.

Artim says: I don't--

Mairèad says: Bryn...

Bryn scowls.
Bryn gives the thumbs up. It's k.

Artim says: You humans are fucked up, okay?

Mairèad murmurs something to Bryn.
To Bryn: "I know yer drunk and sad and pissed, but... this is jest makin' thin's worse."

Bryn says: Yer mum is.

Artim says: That's how she had me, humie.
Artim says: Damn good move, if I say so myself.
Artim says: --Which I do.

Teristha says: Stop acting like children.

Artim says: We're not acting like children.
Artim says: -Duuuuh.

Bryn grunts crossly.

Artim says: I can't help but notice, humie.
Artim looks to Bryn.
Artim says: You seem angry.
Artim says: Or are you always like this?

Bryn says: An' you seem t'haff daddy problems. Are y'always like tha'?

Artim says: Seeing as he was killed not long ago.

Teristha says: I'm not angry, perhaps if you looked at me you might understand why I have this growl to my voice.

Artim says: Yes.

Bryn says: Prollum solved.

Artim says: Meh.

Bryn says: Now go away.

Artim says: Damn, humie.
Artim says: You need to get -laid-.

Bryn says: I would.
Bryn says: But me boyfrien' is dead.

Artim says: Should-a, could-a, would-a.
Artim says: Go fuck around.
Artim says: -Oh, he's dead?
Artim says: Finally drove him to the breaking point?

Mairèad turns and -glares- at Artim. "Shut. Up."

Artim says: Damn, humie.
Artim says: Simmer the fuck down.

Teristha glares at Artim, "You should stop while you are ahead."

Artim leans in, hands set on his hips.

Mairèad says: I dunno -who- y'think you are, but yer actin' like a cuntwaffle with extra syrup.

Artim says: Noted.
Artim says: You can sit down now.

Mairèad says: Leave her alone.

Bryn says: Oh yeah, totally did. To th'point where his bes' friends broke his legs and drove a sword through his gut.

Artim says: Are -all- human women like this?

Mairèad says: She won't talk t'you, you don't talk to her. G--

Artim says: Oh, well.

You stare Bryn down.

Artim says: Tha's a shame.
Artim says: Sorry 'bout that.

Bryn says: Don't matter now.
Bryn shrugs. Who knows?

Artim says: Better luck next time, right?

Mairèad throws up her hands. "Y'know, I give up. Do what yer gunna do."

Artim says: Good.
Artim nods at you.

Mairèad sits again with a clank and a grunt. "I don't fuckin' care."

Artim shakes his head, muttering in Darnassian.

Bryn says: Fun times.
Bryn pats Mairead on the head.

Artim says: Your idea of fun and mine are quite different.

Bryn says: Sod off.

Artim says: What the hell does that mean?
Artim says: Do you just make up your own insults on the spot?
Artim says: .. they're not that good.

Teristha says: In essence, leave.

Mairèad looks back in Shepard's direction again and just stares straight ahead at the Cathedral steps. Her cheek is twitching.

Artim sighs heavily, gaze darting briefly to the two sitting on the bench. He shakes his head, turning to leave. As he walks by Bryn, his hand would move to simply pat her on the head as he passed.

Bryn mumbles a quiet apology to Mairèad. "I'll try harder t'morrow..."

Mairèad says: No. Do or don't. There's no try.
Mairèad says: Either drink or don't drink.

Bryn says: I-I'll... I'll try.
Bryn says: 'm glad you 'n Shep made up.
Bryn says: 'm late fer shit.

Mairèad grunts and leans forward, resting her forearms on her knees. She rests her head in her hands and just sighs.

Destiany peered down to the woman. "you alright?"

Mairèad says: Yahar, I'm fine.
Mairèad says: This place jest gets to you.

Destiany says: The Cathedrial? Might I ask to why?

Mairèad looks up at Destiany with a laugh of disbelief. "Yer new here, ent you?"

Destiany offered a nod. "I am, well not new. I lived in the city when younger."
Destiany says: Might it be to much to ask if you might fill me in? I seen much changed.

Mairèad shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly. "I dunno how th'city's changed meself. I've onleh been here since December. But... well, sit around th'Square a day. Th'shit that happens here's enough to drive anyone insane."

Teristha says: The park nearby is gone.

Destiany smiled to her. "I agree, and I have and seen some things I do not agree fully with."
Destiany says: But that little matter. What troubles you tonight? The odd elf with the magazines?

Mairèad groans and shakes her head, the groan turning into a disbelieving laugh. "It is a -long- story, miss. A very long story."

Destiany says: Well, should you ever wish share it. I would welcome to hear. Even bring the coffee.

Mairèad chuckles. "Make it rum and I might take you up on it."

Destiany says: I'll bring a jug worth.

Mairèad says: Fer this story, y'might wanna make it a bathtub's worth.

Destiany says: If you have the time, I can grab my husband and we could dive in...to the rum at least.

Mairèad says: Eh, I can't right now. I'm supposed to wait -right here-.
Mairèad looks over towards where Shepard is talking yet again, expression somewhat tense.

Destiany says: Of course, you have a pleasant evening.

Mairèad spots Shepard and exhales through pursed lips. She manages a highly forced... and there they go. Smile gone.

Thanatosá says: Vandrin.

Teristha says: All is well, I assume.

Sidoni peeks around the side of the tree.

Wilhiem tosses the flute up, twists it, catches it again.

Vandrin swats a hand behind him. "Not now."

Thanatosá says: Verywell.

Shepard makes a point of ignoring Teristha for the moment, looking to Wilhiem. He nods.

Thanatosá says: Limited time offer however, so be a little nicer next time.

Wilhiem clicks his tongue. He raises a thin silver flute to his lips and starts up a fluent, simple melody.

Shepard follows suit with a soft, melancholy voice. He's singing!
Shepard says: There's an old tale wrought with the mystery of Tom the Poet and his muse, and the magic lake which gave a life to the words the poet used.

Shepard says: Now the muse she was his happiness and he rhymed about her grace, and told her stories of treasures deep the blackened waves.

Vandrin reaches for Emirdelle's hand.

Shepard spares Vandrin a glance as he continues, never breaking the pace.

Mairèad glances over, the smile threatening to return.

Shepard says: 'Till in the stillness of one dawn still in its mystic crown, the muse she went down to the lake and in the waves she drowned.

Wilhiem 's melody matches to accompany Shepard's voice perfectly- almost. He's nervous, he'd slip every now and then.

Emirdelle quirks a brow at Vandrin.

Sidoni rubs the back of her neck. She is staring -intently- at Wilhiem from her place hidden behind the tree.

Shepard says: And now to see your love set free, you will need the witch's cabin key. Find the lady of the light gone mad with the night, that's how you reshape destiny.

Vandrin says: Interesting story.

Wilhiem looks down to the ground - thank god. Otherwise he'd be dealing with Sid-eyes.

Teristha says: It is.

Shepard smiles at Vandrin, crossing his arms as he looks to Wilhiem. He's gonna let him have a solo.

Vandrin looks at Emirdelle. "And suprisingly relevant. You're a constant beacon of hope in an otherwise crumbling society."

Mairèad watches Vandrin and Emirdelle with interest, tilting her head to the side. What.

Wilhiem 's melody soon comes to a climax - descends, faints down to light fluttering. His fingers move about the surface of the flute, just barely.

Shepard leans back some, arms folding behind him. Some might see the faintest glow of the Arcane.

Emirdelle was lagging hardcore.

Sidoni has one hand raised, covering her mouth. She might be trying very very hard not to laugh.

Shepard thinks Emi should say something sweet about Vandrin.

Emirdelle ...Can't think of anything =/

Mairèad suggests calling him her hero.

Teristha thinks it would be easier if Vandrin showed his face... ever.

Wilhiem is running out of breath. He lets a note linger.

Sidoni facepalms. Except she uses the tree as her palm.

Sidoni glances sidelong at Wilhiem.

Shepard grunts, keeping the smile. His right eye is twitchng, though.

Wilhiem ...may or may not be playing the Jeopardy theme.

Vandrin does a high pitched voice, imitating that of a woman's. "Love you too."
Vandrin bites his bottom lip, hard. He sighs -happily-, or so it sounds, then walks off with Emirdelle's hand in his. His bottom lip was practically bleeding.

Emirdelle says: Sorry.

Shepard sighs, but takes what he can get. Instantly, a small cloud forms above... and it begins to rain. The glow of the Arcane vanishes.

Vandrin says: It's cool.
Vandrin gently pats Emirdelle.

Wilhiem attempts to hide a snort. He, then, clears his throat and starts the melody anew.

Emirdelle says: Just another thing I'm horrible at.

Shepard goes back to singing!
Shepard says: The poet came down to the lake to call out to his dear. When there was no answer, he was overcome with fear.

Vandrin says: Oh, hush.

Shepard says: He searched in vain for his treasure lost and too soon the night would fall, and only his own echo would wail back at his call.

Emirdelle says: It's true.

Mairèad blinks at Shepard. She had no idea he could do that! But the sight of the rain brings an almost wistful smile to her face.

Vandrin says: Stage pressure, is all. You were fine.

Shepard says: And when he swore to bring back his love by the stories he'd create, nightmares shifted in their sleep in the darkness of the lake.

Emirdelle says: I was never a...Theater type? i don' tknow....

Shepard says: And now to see your love set free, you will need the witch's cabin key. Find the lady of the light still raving in the night, that's how you reshape destiny.

Vandrin gives her a gentle, quick hug. "You were fine, Emi. Thanks for doing that for me."

Wilhiem struggles to scratch his nose while still playing.
Wilhiem STRUGGLES.

Sidoni comes swaying around the tree, pressing one hand to the lamppost to support herself, as though viklempt. Whatever sort of adjusting she's done, her cleavage looks fantastic. Her gaze comes to rest on Wilhiem, and although her full lips part, she speaks not a word. She's totally banging him with her eyes, who needs words when she's doing that?

Mairèad watches Sidoni now with a perplexed expression. She seems to be holding in a whole -slew- of giggles, though.

Shepard pauses again, gaping at Sidoni. Then he slooooowly looks to Wilhiem.

Sidoni raises her other hand, and crooks a single finger at Wilhiem. It's sort of like Sandy at the end of "Grease" saying 'tell me 'bout it, stud'.

Wilhiem lofts a single eyebrow at Sid. His outh parts in a wide grin, and he lets the melody pick up, his fingers running across the flute faster and faster.

Sidoni likes dat. Work them fingers, boy. She runs the tip of her tongue across her lower lip.

Shepard is now just staring at Sid. Almost horrified.

Wilhiem starts moving across the small opening - slowly - still playing, stepping one foot over the other. The stupid grin is still plastered over his face.

Sidoni 's face is turning red with the effort of simply standing there and trying not to say anything stupid.

Shepard resumes the actor's mask, and smiles as Wilhiem leaves his side. And again comes that Arcane glow.

Wilhiem sighs, exhales, and ceases the melody. He pockets the flute and chuckles, flicking his hair back like a model from a shampoo commercial. He walks up to Sidoni and holds out a hand.

Shepard shakes his head, still smiling, and the same downpour from before returns. The worgen, meanwhile, continues his song.

Sidoni takes that hand, and LEAPS into Wilhiem's embrace. She wraps herself all around that lanky gray whip of a man and buries her face against his throat, making loud smooching sounds. "Oh snookums... oh ya fuckin' handsome beast..."

Mairèad -stares- at Sidoni.

Shepard would have started again, but a snort happens instead.
Shepard begins to sing again. For real this time.
Shepard says: In the dead of night she came to him with darkness in her eyes, wearing a mourning gown, sweet words as her disguise. He took her in without a word for he saw his grave mistake, and vowed them both to silence deep beneath the lake.
Shepard says: Now if its real or just a dream, one mystery remains. For it is said on moonless nights, they may still haunt this place.

Wilhiem is an actor. Wilhiem is an actor of IRON WILL. Despite blushing furiously, he manages a purr, and wraps his arms around her, effectively carrying her /off/ and behind the tree. You know. In the bushes.

Shepard glances around, lamenting his solitude. But then, big voice, lots of passion.
Shepard says: And now to see your love set free, you will need the witch's cabin key. Find the lady of the light gone mad with the night, that's how you reshape destiny.

Mairèad turns her gaze back to Shepard, that derpy smile returning. She almost looks dazed.

Wilhiem fumbles with a small remote. A mechanical strider sneaks its way behind Shepard and he runs over there. Inconspicuously. Through the fountain.

Sidoni lets go of Wilhiem quickly. But she totally starts rattling the bushes while gasping and moaning. "Oh! Ya beast! Oh! Ya big naughty man!"

Teristha says: Shepard? Are you all right?

Shepard says: And now to see your love set free, you will need the witch's cabin key. Find the lady of the light still raving in the night, that's how you reshape destiny.

Tenoly crossed her arms, twitching. "Shep, no offense...but no matter how much that thing around your neck makes your voice different...you still suck at singing."

Shepard slides off the bench, casually strolling over to Mairead. He offers a hand -- there's a ring resting on his palm. "Will you be my lady of the light?"

Vandrin says: Tenolyshutthefuckupforfiveminutes.

Tenoly says: Good, now speak common this time Van.

Mairèad was distracted by turning that -glare- on Tenoly, so when she turns back and sees a ring, she lets out a yelp because the ring? She genuinely wasn't expecting that. "Holy shit! Where'd y'get booty, Shep!?"
Mairèad says: Oh! I mean yes.

Shepard grins, chuckling softly. Then he speaks into his signet.

Sidoni is still putting on a loud, flagrant show! Those bushes are rattling. Her voice is ringing.

Wilhiem 's strider emits a fury of fireworks! Happy day. Some of the sparks burn his hair and he bursts into curses.

Vandrin promptly runs up, flailing flower pedals.

Sidoni says: Oh! Yer fireworks! I told ya they was in yer pants baby!
Sidoni plants her forehead on the tree trunk. Her husband is going to kill her.

Mairèad grins up at Shepard and stands, removing her helm. She wraps her arms around him and whispers something to him.
To Shepard: "That. Was amazin'."
To Shepard: "Also, fuck Tenoly, yer amazin'."

Wilhiem rolls over a keg for a good measure.

Tenoly deadpanned, heartily disapproving. Shep acted like a fourty-something old man, and Mai was barely something other than a kid, this was weird...at least to her.

Sidoni doesn't realize Wilhiem has revealed he's no longer with her. She's still kicking the bushes to rattle them, and moaning like a hydra in heat.

Shepard smiles, wrapping an arm around Mairead. Then he whispers!
Shepard whispers: "I'm glad you think so, my dear."

All of the sounds behind the tree stop, except for a grateful, "LIGHT FUCKIN' BLESS."

Mairèad continues to stand there, whispering!
To Shepard: "...should I say somethin'?"
To Shepard: "Besides 'go die in a fire, Tenoly'?"

Sidoni ruffles Wilhiem's hair.

Shepard chuckles. "I think all you needed to say was 'yes'. ... Was this 'theatrical' enough?"

Tenoly thinks this sentimental moment needs Deathwing in Underbite form.

Mairèad says: That was amazin'ly theatrical. I can't believe y'pulled it off at such short notice!
Mairèad was obviously totally surprised by this whole thing. Or maybe just the ring.

Shepard deadpans. "Neither do I."

Tenoly says: Van...are we supposed to watch them for a reason? Cuz this staring is hurting my eye.

Mairèad says: And seriously, where'd y'get the booty?

Vandrin says: No. Stop watching if you're so souless.

Tenoly says: Meh...

Kialthos says: I forgot to clap.

Mairèad is -staring- at the ring. It's like instinct for her.

Tenoly says: Not my fault I aint a sap....I blame ya'll for drooling...

Shepard says: ... A friend. I had to- it doesn't matter.

Mairèad says: ...excuse me -one- second, Mine.
Mairèad disentangles herself from Shepard and marches over to Tenoly.

Tenoly seems to tower over Mai, considering she's a bit taller than she is.

Mairèad says: Look. I get that bein' a bitch is yer 'thing' and that's fine and whatevarrr, but fer -fuck's- sake, let people be -happy- if they've a mind to and if yer gunna ruin their happiness, keep yer opinions in yer Lightdamned -mouth-.

Kialthos says: BURN.

Mairèad doesn't really care how tall Tenoly is.
Mairèad says: That's all. Light protect.

Tenoly thinks height is important...that...damnit...what was the race from Invader Zim again?

Mairèad still doesn't care about Tenoly's height.

Tenoly smirked. "Tough words coming from a runt..."

Shepard blinks at you.
Shepard says: ... I think this will be happy marriage.

Mairèad says: ...let's go celebrate. Or...what are we supposed t'do now?

Vandrin says: So when do the storks come?

Mairèad says: ...storks?

Vandrin says: Yeah.

Mairèad says: What storks?

Vandrin says: With the baby.

Mairèad says: Why'd-- WHAT.
Mairèad says: No. No babbies.

Tenoly says: Now, this is entertaining.

Vandrin says: Oh, okay. Yeah, fuck children.
Vandrin nods.

Tenoly says: Van, what kind of face heel turn is -that-?

Mairèad grins at Vandrin. "Thanks, Vandrin. Fer errythin'."

Shepard looks at Wilhiem.
Shepard cackles maniacally at Wilhiem.

Mairèad says: You too, Emi.

Vandrin says: Fo sho.

Emirdelle says: No problem.

Teristha says: Wish I could have helped.

Tenoly eyed Kialthos. "We're chopped liver, I swear."

Shepard looks at Teristha.
Shepard says: You were- a valuable audience member.

Mairèad leans past Shepard to look at Wilhiem, "And you too... Wil, right?"

Wilhiem offers a salute and a nod.

Teristha says: Hmm... suppose that is comforting.

Mairèad says: Yer a very good actor.

Kialthos says: Mother of god, you could have been polite and at least stayed silent.

Mairèad smiles over at Kialthos, too. "Thank you, Kia."

Kialthos says: I didn't really do anything but okay.

Vandrin says: You're back.

Tenoly resists the urge to make a 'what's god' comment...lulz.

Mairèad says: Nah, y'jest did.

Kialthos gives Vandrin a side-noogie.

Mairèad reaches up to whisper to Shepard again.
To Shepard: "Seriously, let's go home and get naked."

Shepard says: I'm not sure if this is normal- but it's funny.

Tenoly says: It's never normal Shep...not here...but good on ya anyway I guess.

Shepard blinks at you.

Wilhiem pulls a disappearing act, the strider clanking loudly.

Shepard says: Right, I don't like it. Let's go.

Kialthos says: Warm winds, uh...
Kialthos says: The new Mr. And Mrs. Shepards.

Vandrin says: Chumba wumba. I don't like the look of it.

Tenoly leaned against the wooden barrier.

Mairèad chuckles and, with some effort, hefts herself up on Shepard's back because that's what she does.

Shepard says: That- huh. Thanks, Kia.

Tenoly says: Shepard's not his family name is it?
Tenoly glanced to SHep. "What's your last name again?"

Shepard says: Lovells. Or Garhelm. Depends on who you ask.

Tenoly says: I'm sort of asking you...so what's your answer?

Shepard says: Lovells, I guess.

Mairèad says: Anyway. Goin'. Let's.

Shepard says: Anyway. We're going now.