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Post by Elladan on Aug 13, 2005 9:17:23 GMT -5
Yes, his tunic might have been bloodied, his boots soiled and his hair a little strewn, but gave no unordinary appearance. He was, rather, a semblance of every travel-worn customer exposed to the elements; a living canvas of flesh where life and time cast their colors to display his nature and occupation. He glanced beside him, inadvertently checking his stride so that he might flow along with his new companion, pondering over the enigma of thought she had recently dealt him with the same productivity as digesting a spicy foreign sea-food dish after smothering it with hot sauce. It wasn’t going over well, but it was going. “We all have that which we hate and love, whatever it may be, whatever we know it or not." he paused, thinking over his thought carefully, "Who wants to be endowed with the ability to kill? Yet you have both that and the power to heal, quite contradictory, which may affect your matrix of simplicity. Who knows?" Again he plunged into thought, but could extract nothing more.
His phoenix eyes suddenly brightened, as those of a dog at sight of food, for there was Atele-vale in all it's accommodating glory, a beacon to his aching brain. "After all this thought there's only one thing I do know, and it’s that I want rum, terribly"
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Post by Arwen on Aug 13, 2005 9:32:29 GMT -5
Lomadia was favoring her wounded right leg only slightly, managing to hold herself together after finally managing to take control of their body in the long silence that had ensued after her last long speech of her enigmatic ways. Yes, she was an enigma, wasn't she? She managed a slight smile at Cyrus, taking his hand in one of hers and removing her other hand from the hilt of the longsword sheathed back at her belt, she gave it a small pat. The smile became a wicked one.
"And do not, dear friend, forget our agreement, or use our... confabulation as an excuse to 'forget' that you are to buy my rum as well," she teased, eyes twinkling with a managed merriment through the obvious pain. An herbal concoction would be in call for both of them when they returned to Avalbane. "Whether Avalbanian or not, I do not care any more. All I want now is a drink--honestly, I care no more whether it be rum, beer, wine, or straight alcohol as long as I may drink it down quickly and enjoy becoming dizzy. I believe I'd like to dance on a table tonight--you?"
With those words, she slapped him playfully on his uninjured side and galloped off toward the tavern. Galloped because her leg did not serve her to run, as she attempted to. Why suddenly so playful? Well, she was an enigma. Need we say more?
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Post by Elladan on Aug 13, 2005 12:12:58 GMT -5
Cyrus, being the chivalrous man he was customarily born to be, took of in a run of his own, over-exerting himself to get to the door before her, blocking it so she could not grab the handle and force her way in. After all, he was forced into the freebie by his gender; he might as well fill out the role in its entirety.
He winced slightly, laughing in his pain, “I would like to clarify that I certainly have not forgotten, but rather hoped you didn’t think you would get by so freely. Now, what, may I ask, is the magic word? You won’t get your dance otherwise, and I shall have cause to inflict another wound.”
He raised his eyebrows, swaying his head in search for an answer.
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Post by Arwen on Aug 13, 2005 12:48:43 GMT -5
"Oh!" Cut in front of her, had he? Inflict another wound? Right then. He had no weapon, and she had her longsword. Her wickedly sly grin returned, and she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Another wound, Cyrus? Surely not a physical wound, as you are unarmed? Surely you would not test the viper again?"
With that, she yawned softly, an innocent expression in her eyes. "As to a magic word? I know of no words which are magical, personally. So what is it that you wish me to do? I cannot simply give information that I know not of." She tilted her head to the side, the same innocent expression played across her face.
A sudden movement was given, and ended just as quickly with her face much closer to his than it had been formerly in the encounter, and a strange fire in her eyes. However, that fire was not passion, despite the seemingly flirtatious kiss that had passed from her lips to his in that quick moment. She wet her lips then, sizing him up with a mockingly seductive eye and a tilt to her head.
"Move." Still coy--but seemingly oh-so honest-to-goodness rude.
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Post by Elladan on Aug 13, 2005 17:50:36 GMT -5
{{"Lomadia, I didn't think it of you!" he cried, gasping. "But now that you've brought it up... I'm desperately in love with you!!!11one!1!one!111l1!1oen!1" With that he took her up in his arms and kissed her again. ~Agent Arwen}}
{((Elladan:Oh. you soo did not do that Arwen..... Oh, no no no. Besides you did it all wrong... Here's how its goes.) )}
Cyrus pulled back in surprise, causing his head to hit the tavern door, yet he felt little pain, for he was too concerned with her intentions. He kept his ground, however, arms braced directly behind him.
“You cannot persuade me with such potions as delivered by your striking lips, you viper.” He declared, mind slipping into some fiendish scheme. A hand slowly trailed away from its guard, rising quickly enough to lock its gentle grip on her chin without interference. He turned her head from one side to the other, evaluating her as one would examine a diamond, searching for specific defects. His thumb moved up toward her newly moistened lips, parting them with feigned curiosity. For a moment he seemed to ponder, eyes alight, as though his conclusion was at hand. Then he loosened his grip, thumb tracing her lower lip.
“Your poison may be sweet, but its potency could only overtake a fool,” his phoenix eyes glittered; roguish grin slowly possessing his visage as he triumphantly patted her twice on the cheek.
"Now, the magic word?"
{((Note: cold, VERY cold, arctic. Bwahahaha. She just got put down.))}
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Post by aaaaaaaaaarwen on Aug 16, 2005 18:20:25 GMT -5
Lomadia was quite tempted to nip at the finger of the man who was so rudely touching her lips. But she deserved it, didn’t she, kissing him so mockingly without invitation. Invitation! Ha! So, she refrained, watching him with that strange teasing glint in her gentle eyes. And turned her head slightly in coy disgust when he gave a couple quick pats to his cheek.
“Luckily,” she began softly, gazing pointedly at him, managing to keep up the show despite the impending and desperate need to laugh, “my poison is not dangerous unless applied with a bite. Just a nibble?” she asked, lower lip pushing out a bit in an elegant, well trained pout. Or not so well trained, as a smile began to fight its way onto her lips, and in order to pause that action, she pulled the offending parts together in a tight line.
“And again,” she began once more after a quick recovery of her play, “I know of no mystical words that force magic of any type to happen, as it was obviously not ‘move’. I am no magician. Unless of course you mean a magic three words. Those three that seem to cause so much magic in people? Oh, what are they? Ah, yes, that’s right. ‘I love you?’ No surely that’s not what you intended. Else a man as witty and wise as yourself would have made it clear that it was a ‘magic phrase’ rather than a ‘magic word’ as that is clearly not a word at all, but the former. Let’s see then… Ah, how about”—viper she was, for suddenly and without warning the long sword was by his neck, point gently touching the wood of the bar’s door—“now? Yes, that seems like a magical enough word for me.”
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Post by Elladan on Aug 18, 2005 18:29:25 GMT -5
“Ah, she shows her fangs,” he replied, wary eyes glancing over to check the sword’s distance as he backed away “… This is how you reward your accommodating adversary?” he questioned, fingers delicately tracing the blade as he spoke, running down the edge with gentle familiarity “Yet even this is entirely un-magical, especially when accompanied by such an ungracious command. ‘Now,’ however imperative it may seem, it will not suffice.”
He knocked the blade down at the fuller, regaining his ground before she could repeat the action, and nodded politely,
“Now, again, I ask for the- oomph!” Cyrus was suddenly shoved forward by the door, tripping over his own feet in an effort to step aside to avoid a second blow. Fortunately he managed to regain his balance, but not without consequence; another bolt of pain shot through his side, causing his whole body to go ridged. His only problem; he was laughing through the entire episode: maniac.
The “assailant,” a simple Anorian passerby, might have apologized had Cyrus not burst into another roar. The man didn’t have all day, so he left with a bow, assuming they would get the message, and disappeared in the form of a tabby cat. Cyrus burst against, leaning against the wooden beam for support in both pain and hysteria.
It probably wouldn't be half as funny if it didn't hurt so bad.
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Post by arwen on Aug 20, 2005 7:13:55 GMT -5
Ignoring him completely until he was attacked by the door, Lomadia's eyes widened and she bent down to catch her companion by the arm, having barely avoided being knocked to the ground herself, though Cyrus had managed to shoulder her quite hard enough in the midsection. She coughed violently as she laughed, watching the Anor leave, and then began to heft the fellow, none too heavy with his build, through the door.
"And if you would believe it, ironically, I did not plan that, Cyrus!" she exclaimed in her own humor, patting him on the back as she shove-tossed him toward a seat at the closest table. "Two rums, the best you've got!" she called to the lass behind the bar immediately after that statement, waving.
"Sure he needs it?" the barmaid asked in good humour, seeing that these two visitors were friendly folk. "Ah, no, lady, they're both for me! But my friend here's paying as soon as he controls himself enough to pull out his purse. Right Cyrus?" She thumped him happily on the back, grinning widely in mischief, her hand on the hilt of her sword again, the blade which she had managed to resheathe as she moved into the tavern.
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Post by Elladan on Aug 20, 2005 10:06:45 GMT -5
Cyrus, whose head was now scrunched between folded arms upon the wooden table, hiding his humor-reddened face away from all he might gain attention from, reached his hand inside his right pocket, drawing forth a small, jingly brown purse. His head rose as he set in on the table, eyes moist with aching mirth, and he untied the tiny strings with his nimble fingers.
“Three, then, if you insist upon getting drunk, and I insist upon having my drink to ail me, as you must know you won’t keep me from it.” he drew three coins from the bag and set them gently upon the table, lifting his hand to catch the barmaid and correct the order.
“And don’t you know it’s not lady-like to shove?” he remarked as the maid set all three glasses down at once, causing a mild thud as he ended his sentence.
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Post by Arwen on Aug 20, 2005 10:20:46 GMT -5
"Ah! Two won't get me drunk, sire! Remember, I'm full blooded-elf. But I'll pay for the rest, I shant impose too terribly on your purse. Will you have a dance with me when I'm good and full of this stuff if I promise not to shove again? For that matter it's not gentlemanly to slice a girl's leg open, or to refuse a dance even." She seemed incredibly wicked at this point, and in truth quite ready to forget the pain in her leg and that which she had inflicted on the poor man's side, and the battle in its entirety. Stopping her laughter, she picked up one of the three tankards of ale and began to drink. "Eh, it's not Avalbanian, but it's strong enough."
"We don't pull Avalbane's stuff in here, I've got enough to deal with as it is. And with twice as many men running around twice as drunk, I think we'd have to be hiring extra hands," the barmaid yawned, turning an eye to a few men by the fireplace that were either engaged in their own affairs or watching the pair of elves with incredulity that outmatched all else. Lomadia gazed upon these men and allowed a hearty laugh. Oh, they were strange ones, weren't they? But weren't they all. "Lomadia here, and if you hadn't gathered, this is Cyrus." "Lynn. I run this place, for the most part." "Ah. Wonderful." She smiled to show that it was not simply dismissive sarcasm. "Well, when you have a moment, a bite to eat wouldn't be dismissed. You've got some bread, haven't you? A bit of fruit too, maybe a taste of cheese." She pulled her own purse out of a pouch at her belt and withdrew some coins--more than was required for what she had ordered. "Keep the rest for ale we two order later and for yourself, will you please? Thank you so much."
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Post by Elladan on Aug 21, 2005 12:27:18 GMT -5
“Then I shall appear a gentleman at least once in your eyes. You shall have you dance as you please, milady” he smirked, cupping the mug that had been brought to him, staring into the amber liquid as if possessed some incredible understanding, which, for a moment, drew his attention away from all else.
He was called back by the mention of his name, and nodded to confirm the fact, gazing up at the new acquaintance with an accommodating grin..
“No, I’ll pay, as was our agreement,” he stopped her hand, withdrawing the same amount of coins from his own purse, and handed the amount to Lynn, “ Though I am displeased, as you dare to defile my palette, with such unsuitable alternatives to Avalbanian rum. I should expect better of the food.” His sarcasm, of course, was to be noted in his expression and tone, charming and allusive.
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Post by Arwen on Aug 21, 2005 12:37:05 GMT -5
"A drink for each was the agreement, Cyrus, and I'll have none of your insistance upon buying everything. If you do, I'll have to pull my sword on you again, and we don't want any brawls, now do we?" That said, she laid the coins on the table in front of Cyrus as Lynn made her way off to gather what was required by the two, head shaking lightly in humour at the fellow's comment. Defile the palette indeed.
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Post by Elladan on Aug 24, 2005 21:55:34 GMT -5
"So, what shall you have for your dance? Mind, I’m just as foot fancy as the rest of you, though I must admit, a considerable amount of time has past since any woman took an interest in dancing with such a mutt.” He absently fiddled with his rum, carelessly stirring it with a soiled index finger, watching the liquid twirl about in rhythmic circles as though Avalbane itself was dancing atop its amber surface.
His glance fell over to the men he had been summoned to examine earlier, cogitating their purposes as he licked the rum off of his finger, unheeding, which caused his face to bend awkwardly for a moment, as if he had tasted something not quite satisfying. He shook the taste off, concentration broken, and lifted his eyes to Lomadia's as he began to speak.
“I suspect we shall raise a few brows, though doubtless these walls have seen much more than our childsplay,” he muttered, chuckling quietly.
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Post by Arwen on Aug 25, 2005 5:09:50 GMT -5
"Teach you to wash up before sticking your fingers in your food or mouth," Lomadia scolded in humor. "And regardless, we have already raised a few brows, friend, and seeing as I'll be completely and utterly drunk by that time, I'm not sure what I'll dance. Might give you all a taste of a good avalbanian jig, though." Another of her playful, wicked grins, and she finished off the first tankard of ale just as Lynn returned with a plate of breads, cheeses, and fruits. "My thanks, Lady Lynn." A smile passed her lips again. Lady Lynn.
The barmaid could but shake her head in response to this. "Well, Lady Lomadia, when you decide to dance on the tables, call me over to remove this stuff first. I hardly mind a bit of dancing, as I've had worse, but I'd rather not have more to clean up." And with that, she was gone behind her bar again, eyeing the inhabitants of the tavern warily. You never knew those guys.
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Post by Elladan on Sept 10, 2005 14:47:13 GMT -5
Cyrus took a few generous gulps of his own, trying to level himself off with her. He eyed the barmaid, a natural tendency, as she set the various foods upon the table, nodding vaguely as she left, and then returned his gaze to his companion, completely unaware of the act.
“Well, good, I’m up for another challenge, though I hope these bandages hold up well. I’ll put your abilities to the test though, eh?” he mumbled, shuffling around and fidgeting with various objects as though sitting was something he could not bear to handle for very long. He did, after a few more hearty sips, manage to sustain his activity and realize the considerable appetite he’d conjured up.
With a grumbling stomach at hand, he reached for a loaf of bread, gracefully tore in two, and offered her a half, raising his eyebrows rather then voicing his question.
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Post by Arwen on Sept 23, 2005 18:35:06 GMT -5
She took the half he offered with a quick smile and a nod, setting her finished tankard off to the side and pulling forward her next, as if determined in her own turn to stay ahead of him. Lynn, after a moment, returned with a few more tankards, placing them in the middle of the table after a fine balancing act. Ooh, talent. Lomadia ate the bread delicately, in an ironic comparison to her drinking, chewing slowly at her small bites of the sweet loaf. Once done with that, she took up a bit of cheese and ate it, soon followed by a few grapes, all in that same delicate fashion, and took up her second tankard to drink again.
"I doubt you will make for much of a challenge, milord," she stated after that long pause, gazing directly into his eyes as he fidgetted where he sat. "Something wrong, Cyrus?" Her words then were somewhat teasing, and she managed a quirky smile before popping another grape into her mouth, suddenly devoid of delicacy. Alcohol was starting to effect her, though she was not yet drunk. She plucked another fruit off of the stems with the rest and held it up as if to toss it at him. "Wake up, sir, do you feel alright?"
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Post by Elladan on Sept 25, 2005 21:57:09 GMT -5
Cyrus downed the first tankard with satisfaction, then began the next, taking in about a third before giving up the race. He was competitive at heart, but this was obviously out of his league, and not his best game by any means.
”Nothing is wrong with me, but you, however, present a different case, no?” he smirked, taking a hearty bite of bread while he grabbed a few grapes of his own.
”A little tipsy, aren’t you?” he remarked, catapulting a ripe oval over to her side of the table. Oh, no, was it starting to affect him as well? He was not normally this mischievous, and it seemed to him that he was becoming increasingly amorous. Oh, well.. He tossed another grape in spite of his thoughts, grinning roguishly.
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Post by Arwen on Sept 25, 2005 22:07:06 GMT -5
She shook her head slightly at his first words, even rolling her eyes. Then, in response to his question, she caught the first, and then the second grapes in her mouth with a bit of ducking and leaning. And in response to those actions, she flung the grape she'd been holding at him. See how he liked that. And another, right after it. Oh yes. Another drink, and a few more grapes, then some cheese, some more bread, all slowly enough except for the grape throwing part. Speaking of which, I'll mention that she took it upon herself to throw another couple of grapes in his direction after she'd managed to get some more food into her system. "Getting there," she finally remarked, hiccuping. Well, that was what she got for drinking a little too fast. In response to that, she took up her third tankard, reclining in the chair with her feet on the table. Where had Lomadia's manners gone?
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Post by Elladan on Sept 25, 2005 22:26:35 GMT -5
Cyrus, caught the first grape in his mouth, but allowed the others to pelt him, wincing as they hit both his forehead and cheek. His was, by now, well into his second, and starting to feel the mirthful side effects. His phoneix eyes began to swell and soften, flickering in the volitale light of the hearth, warming his gaze and lightening his heart. His fidgeting was soothed, subsided by the amber liquid puming through his half-elven veins. He was being primed by the sweet intoxication of the imitation Avalbanian rum. The real stuff would have had him out aready, having an effect on even the mightiest of drinkers, perhaps a reflection itself of the happy elven community. All their anger, their passion, their merriment was extracted from their souls and added into the drink itself. creating a hybrid mighter than any other in Amaranth. Obviously the comparsion was slim, but at least it was working.
He flung another inconspicuous grape, biting his lower lip and looking around nonchalantly after the fact.
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Post by Arwen on Sept 25, 2005 22:35:14 GMT -5
This last grape she failed to catch, and even in her drunken state (if merely half so, if even that, for she was indeed fully elven and this was nothing in comparison to a good elven brew) she noticed the tell-tail signs of drunkenness in his eyes and in the way he paused in his tapping and other fidgiting. She smirked slightly, finishing off her third drink and standing. Once on her feet she lept--yes, she lept; neither stepped nor pulled up to, but lept--to a table beside theirs, landing square on her feet atop the sure wood furniture that came up to her waist. This was a spur of the moment thing, she didn't have time to call the maid over, thus the reason for her choice of dancing-space.
Although the jump may have been high and the landing sure, and she mostly drunk after that fast and heavy downing, she was still not quite oblivious to the pain that shot up her injured leg, however. So she winced at that, but was not put off by it. Instead, she began to do just as formerly promised--or was it threatened?--and dance a quick elven jig. Just for warmup. Her hands were in the air and she clapped as she moved in time, and soon had most of the tavern's patrons clapping along to the beat of the dance. Let the fun begin.
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