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Post by orby on May 19, 2019 11:39:22 GMT
The woman's brief clasp of his shoulder was unexpected but friendly. Caim cast her an uncertain look over the half-drow's head wearing a hesitant smile.
"Ah...well. They were the ones who struck first. And they admitted to killing someone, too..." That hint of a smile shrank as he said it -- that wasn't something to smile about, was it? -- and then slipped away entirely at the half-elf's rebuff. His gaze fell away from the upbeat woman, lips pressing together in a way that seemed almost ashamed
It was a fair point, after all.
Should he have looked more into the situation first? That...didn't quite feel right either, though. Even if he had, what could he have done differently? Just said no? It was one thing to prioritize those who he definitely could help over those he probably couldn't, but to look someone in the face while they were asking for help and turn them away? Did knowing someone had done something bad make them less deserving? Maybe it did, but it felt arrogant to think he should be the one to judge that. It could be just as easily argued that the half-elf wasn't deserving either, then, having struck down Ceres' bodyguards and left them bleeding in the dust.
It was a lot to think about, hovering awkwardly in a crowded tavern with shouts and crashes all around threatening to drown out his own brain. Caim frowned, biting at his lip, but after a moment he sat down on an empty stool beside the half-elf.
Despite the lack of enthusiasm, there had still been permission in there. That was at least something he could work with. Caim leaned in to inspect the damage where dark fabric was damp with blood, slipping coppery hands under the half-drow's arm to carefully peel open the tears in his shirt and better expose the injuries. Nothing looked problematic, no debris caught in the gashes or discoloration to suggest poison, so he pressed his fingertips lightly over the wounds and let a warm glow of divine energy pulse into them to begin stitching it up.
For a moment he just kept his head down, focused on his chosen task, but as the magic was doing its stuff he glanced up, brows knitting together apologetically.
"...I'm sorry," he said, voice low enough that it was only just barely audible over the racket of the tavern. "If they hurt your friend... I didn't know what they were doing. They just asked for help."
That was all the explanation he gave. And what more was even needed? Someone was hurt and he could help, so he went with them. It was simple enough to him. It just seemed sometimes like no one else in this city understood that.
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Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 13:48:11 GMT
Miri cheerfully ignored the half-drow’s obvious confusion at her actions. He slumped against the bar, sighed, and renewed his offer for drinks.
Meanwhile, the most earnest tiefling in all of Waterdeep - and beyond? - pushed through what looked like some kind of existential crisis, setting a clawed hand on the half-drow’s shoulder and applying a very light and delicate touch of healing magic, knitting together dark skin as if it had never been parted. And weren’t his copper hands against the half-drow’s dark skin a pretty sight?
He was apologizing; everyone was apologizing. Miri had no intention of joining them, and it was nearly all she could do not to roll her eyes, a faint smirk creasing her lips. Was this kid for real? He certainly sounded genuine. Maybe he just hadn’t spent enough time in Waterdeep.
She gave the half-drow a few moments to make whatever response he wanted, then cheerfully interrupted. Again.
Miri didn’t sit; there was enough room for her to push her way to the bar between the half-drow and the tiefling - so she did, leaning over the bar, forward slightly, although careful not to actually touch the wood with her corset.
“Three ales,” She told the barkeep when he came over. “His tab,” she set a hand on the half-drow’s bicep to indicate who she meant. Again, the contact didn’t last long - just a brief brush of Miri’s fingers against his skin, her hands warm after the fight and ever so slightly rough, palms and fingertips callused.
“Now,” Miri distributed the ales when they came - one to the half-drow, one to the tiefling, one to herself. From - somewhere - she pulled out what looked like a flask, and poured a short glug of a pale brown liquid into each of the three glasses, including her own. It was a bit of a shame to do this to nice whiskey, but she wasn’t sure she could manage another of the ales without it. The flask vanished again when she was done.
Miri grinned at the tiefling. “Best thing for a bit of uncertainty’s a drink, and it’d be quite rude not to join us. Cheers,” she lifted hers, waiting very patiently until the other two did the same. Miri took a healthy mouthful; yes, the whiskey did rather improve the taste. She was glad she’d thought to bring a full flask tonight.
“I always like to know the names of those I’ve fought beside,” Miri grinned. She made eye contact with the half-drow first, letting a slow, deliberate smile flicker over her lips. The tiefling next, one eyebrow lifting at him. Miri turned to face out against the room, although she could still see both of her new drinking companions quite well. Her eyes scanned the crowd for a moment, and there was a brief, fractional increase in the tension of her body, which faded away as quickly as it had come. One elbow rested somewhat gingerly on the bar, letting her back take on a faint natural curve, and putting her, somehow, just ever so slightly more on display.
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Post by sojourn on May 20, 2019 19:47:06 GMT
"I t's not like y' can take th' time t' comb through th' histories 'f every asshole in Waterdeep when you're pressed for time. Is this th' sorta thing y'do? Come t' Mistshore an' patch up th' riff raff for good feels an' a few coins?" Kieran questioned almost coyly, tilting his head to one side and willingly allowing the tiefling the room he needed for inspection of his injured person. He shifted as necessary, not visibly uncomfortable so much as obviously wary—the Dawn and Dusk was still crawling with criminals and there were plenty of eyes still on the trio and their perch at the bar. It wasn't as though no one had noticed all that had just unfolded. Sure, there was a bit of rowdiness over a game of cards erupting across the tent and some loud voices of slurred, drunken disagreement somewhere else, but, no one else had killed anyone and left the bodies on the floor like the half-drow and the young woman just had. Not yet, anyway. His eyes fluttered shut more in anticipation, as if he expected whatever the tiefling had at his disposal to cause more pain than less, clearly refraining from wincing at the press of fingers and then willingly relaxing at the strange magical sensation of his own flesh knitting itself back together again. Did he enjoy the metallic contrast against diluted darkness, too? Yes—perhaps not simply because the touch was a welcome gentle one, but also because he was appreciative of tactile comforts as someone who grew up without enough of it. Unsure of what kind of spell casting the horned creature was using, Kieran at least noted that he was not at all what the half-drow had assumed. Peering from behind pale eyelashes, his violet gaze warmed, "Y' don't have anythin' t' apologize for. Am I a better option? Who am I t' judge, y'know, considerin'?" Straightening to nod in the direction of the now rather disturbingly absent bodies, he blinked, not moving much once Miri found her own prominent place between himself and the copper-skinned healer, willing to share the space in a selfish, curious sort of way. Smirking as she reminded the barkeep who was paying, ignorant that his coins were no longer where they should have been, Kieran watched with his tongue pressed in some mockery of thoughtfulness against the ring through his lower lip while she poured whiskey (by the scent of it, rich and welcome above the other strange odors permeating the bar) shamelessly into the ales once the three mugs were sloshed near them with no more fanfare than they'd made themselves known here this evening already. "You're not wrong there." Curling lithe fingers around his mug, Kieran smiled at the cheers, choosing to raise his drink more for the tavern's crowd who still watched them than for the two who'd made themselves his companions for the evening by chance, choice, and circumstance. There were a few echoed cheers—strangers about the tent raising their drinks no matter how empty or how full, a few palms slapped on the table, a few catcalls and whistles, leaving the half-drow to grin wider from over the rim of his cracked and admittedly rather unclean mug before taking a longer draught than probably necessary. Exhaling through his teeth at the lukewarm bitterness followed so unexpectedly by the stronger burn, he didn't wait for the tiefling's name before offering his own, "Kieran." He said simply, aware that his surname was purely adoptive, that Mistshore wasn't his usual territory in the sprawl of all of Waterdeep, and that if he saw either of the pair again, his first name would be sufficient. Violet gaze wandering from the tiefling to the young woman and back to his mug again, he added coyly, unsure of what the alternative outcome would have been had he been left to fend for himself against all of Ceres' entourage, "I s'pose it's only proper t' say th' pleasure's mine here tonight."
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Post by orby on May 21, 2019 3:51:19 GMT
Glancing up from his healing work, the tiefling frowned.
"It's not for coin," he protested. That seemed to be the standard around here, sure, but something about it still felt wrong to him. He'd never taken money for his talents before, for one thing. And what if someone couldn't afford to pay? Did that make them any less deserving of help than someone who could? And if he helped that person anyone while charging others, wouldn't that be unfair to those others who might have needed that money for something else?
It was a complicated, messy subject to think about. This was simpler. So maybe "good feels" was true enough that he couldn't argue that point. He wasn't embarrassed about enjoying this.
The last bit of the injury was just vanishing when the woman abruptly pushed between them. Caim had to retract his arms quickly to keep them from getting pinned between her and the bar. He sat up again, shifting a little uncomfortably now that that task was handles and he no longer had something to occupy himself with, but then she was ordering drinks and adding more to them and one overfull glass was shoved his way with a sloshing of brownish liquid over the edges.
Oh. Somehow he hadn't expected to be included further. Caim blinked, wrapping a hand around the damp glass with a tentative touch.
"Ah...thank you," he said automatically, and then frowned. "But I didn't really do any fighting..."
Would he have? Maybe. Everything had ended so quickly he never really had a chance to stress over that.
Gold eyes stared into the glass, brows drawn together. Maybe he should have said he didn't really like ale. It was a little too late by the time he realized one was for him, though. He sipped at the drink, nose wrinkling slightly but resisting the urge to grimace openly at the taste. All the tavern drink he'd tried thus far had a bland, sour sort of taste he wasn't really a fan of, and whatever the woman had added to it seemed like a much more powerful version of the same.
But it seemed rude to reject it when it was someone else's treat. Hell, she even said it'd be rude. So Caim swallowed down the distaste and the booze in equal measure.
"C-Caim," he said, just barely avoiding choking on the word as the burn hit his throat. A faint shudder ran through him. "It's...nice to meet you."
(People drank this on purpose? For fun?)
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Post by moralhazard on May 21, 2019 14:01:16 GMT
Miri’s eyes flicked over the crowded space, settling briefly on each of the cat-callers and moving on. When she looked at Caim and Kieran again, she looked down the bar as well.
The muscular man who’d been fighting earlier was still on the ground; from the rise and fall of his chest he was asleep, at least, and not dead. A certain elderly man was sitting almost on the stool where he had been, reaching for his pocket.
Miri’s gaze snapped promptly back to Kieran. She grinned at him, and turned to look at the tiefling, for all the world as if every bit of her attention was focused here and now. The tiefling - Caim - was shuddering through his name and a sip of the whiskey-laced ale.
Miri grinned at him, broadly. She didn’t say anything; either teasing or encouragement might let him off the hook, and Miri was certainly not trying to do that.
Miri stretched again, using the elbow resting against the bar to arch her back further into the stretch, then settling down again. Fingers drummed a slow and steady tattoo against her leg, and with every bit of her body and mind she fought the urge to look down the bar again.
“Kieran and Caim,” There was no hint of any of it in her gaze or voice. Miri savored the names on her tongue and smiled. “I’m Miri.” The pleasure’s all mine and nice to meet you. How - appropriate.
Miri lifted her cracked mug for another drink. It tasted equally unpleasant this go around, but at least the whiskey was strong enough that, pleasingly, it was hard to tell. “Well,” she smiled at Kieran. “I wouldn’t say the pleasure’s all yours.”
There was a pause, a moment - and Miri continued.
“After all, if not coin, then - Caim must be healing for those good feels, isn’t it?” for all that she had run roughshod over it, she did have some idea what the two men had been discussing. She turned to smile at Caim, with just a few too many teeth to not be teasing him. Her gaze flickered past him, then settled firmly back on the tiefling.
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Post by sojourn on May 21, 2019 18:30:17 GMT
"I can't say I do what I do for coin, either. Sometimes, it helps, but, eh, other times, folks just need things." The half-drow shrugged, settling more in his seat, against the bar, far too close to Miri to at all avoid settling somewhat against her, too. It wasn't much of an invasion of space since she'd left so little, was it? Shifting to stretch one arm across the sticky, well-worn surface of the countertop to support more of his weight, it was simply a convenience that such a stretch required snaking behind the young woman and settling a hand next to Caim. The poor tiefling coughed and gagged over the fearsome drink combination and Kieran smirked, waggling fingers that couldn't quite reach as if he would have given the creature a pat if he could. As if one man's misfortune was somehow a prompt for him to take another swig, he did, peering into the drink for a moment as he swallowed, weighing his capacity for alcohol as adrenaline filtered its way out of his system and he began to feel himself drift into a state of more relaxed alertness. Looking back up at his name echoed back at him and Miri giving her own, he didn't miss his opportunity to smile at her comment in a warmer, acknowledging sort of way. The half-drow didn't always find it easy to be at all flirtatious or pick up on the kinds of social queues that everyone else seemed so used to reading, but the three of them had already found themselves entangled in a strange enough situation that everything felt more permissive than the otherwise aloof creature was used to keeping himself. He was more than fine sharing the pleasure of his company, to be fair, but saying such a thing out loud in this moment felt as though it would offer up a variety of possible interpretations, not all of which were strictly tavern material. Perhaps his knowing expression gave those unspoken things away away. Perhaps it didn't. Physical expression was far easier for the more physical Kieran, and the lean of his body spoke more volumes than his words, which he directed at the tiefling, shamelessly teasing him in a friendly, inclusive manner, "Well, good feels really aren't a thing in Mistshore, so right on y' there. Gods, I can't even imagine how y' got here, Caim, other than between th' safety o' those two thugs. I don't live in this ward, but you're a candle in th' dark here. Compared t' th' rest 'f th' sludge an' shadows. You're not allowed t' walk home alone, neither, if you're drinkin' all that."Kieran's grin broadened from over the rim of his mug, violet gaze as warm as his tone. He tilted his head enough to cast a sly, sidelong sort of glance at Miri, "Th' question 's who lives closer, eh? Or, m'haps it's just who's gonna be able t' get there from here—" Another swig and the last of his words were more of a throaty hiss, "—after so much excitement."
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Post by orby on May 22, 2019 13:38:14 GMT
What it was that Kieran "did" wasn't exactly clear, at least from where Caim was sitting. Was the earlier scene with Ceres' crew a personal matter, or business? The book could have been either, really. Caim cast a glance the half-drow's way, unsure of the etiquette here -- would it be prying to ask, or was bringing it up an invitation to do so?
He was saved from having to decide either way by Miri cutting in, her grin wide and more than a little mischievous. It didn't seem unfriendly, though. Caim hesitantly smiled back, distracted only briefly with a glance back over his shoulder as it seemed like she was looking at something behind him. Nothing stood out to him, however. The crowd was bustling enough the individuals seemed to melt right into it. No one stood out especially beyond the two he was already preoccupied with.
"Ah...I mean, it does feel good. I like doing it." There was something about their words that was unmistakably teasing. Patronizing almost, like what he was doing he was ridiculous, but it had a warmth to it that kept it from stinging. It was certainly miles away from the cool distance or sharp edges he expected to find in someone scoffing at him. Caim's smile gained a bit of strength and he tapped his claws idly at the side of the glass. "And people seem to need that sort of help more in places like this. And...I stand out in any ward, anyway..."
Candle in the dark was at least a prettier way of putting it. Poetic, even. Better than some alternatives he'd heard. It eased the weight of the whole conversation a bit; lighthearted as it all seemed, the whole experience was faintly overwhelming. Their good humor was an unfamiliar thing. Being included so nonchalantly was even more so.
He dropped his gaze back to his murky drink for a brief reprieve, shifting a little under the attention. It wasn't a bad thing. Just nothing he was used to feeling without half a dozen layers of robes and veils covering him completely.
"I'm staying in the Dock Ward," he volunteered tentatively, glancing back up again with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's not too far?"
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Post by moralhazard on May 22, 2019 14:26:31 GMT
Kieran relaxed, easing into place and inevitably brushing against her, one arm stretching out behind her against the sticky piece of wood that passed for a bar. Miri shifted her elbow to make room for him without so much as a glance. Slightly, very slightly, she shifted back against him, moving just the tiniest bit closer, her bare shoulder settling comfortably against him.
Miri smiled a little wider at Caim’s parroting back of their phrase, but she didn’t push too far. The kid was obviously uncomfortable, poor thing. He was smiling, though, a considerable improvement from the worrying frown on his face earlier. Both of them seemed to be relaxing, which Miri counted as a good thing.
Miri continued to survey the room. Across the room, a small halfling with a single strip of hair down the center of his head gripped what looked like a knife. Miri watched him, idly taking another sip of her drink; his gaze was fixed on the edge of the bar by the door. He started to move.
Pressed up against Kieran as she was, he couldn’t help but feel a sudden stiffness to her posture, the way her body went tight for a moment then slack again as Miri regained her control. It was well-timed with his words at least, and Miri laughed aloud, catching his gaze with a slow smile that started at her lips and spread across her face.
“Dock Ward’s not so bad,” Miri grinned at Caim. “At least during the day,” she shifted, easily, taking another drink of her ale. “Two outta three there are just looking to make an honest living. Gives you better odds than the Sea Ward,” she winked at Kieran.
“Do you stay safe inside most nights?” Miri asked, turning back to Caim. “Or d’you like to explore a bit?” A drop of mostly-ale was fizzing from the top of Caim’s glass and sliding down towards his hand. Miri reached out, her fingers settling on top of his and holding there long enough not to be an accident, then sliding up the side of the glass to scoop up the wayward drop. She flicked it off her hand onto the floor. The movement meant she had to shift back into Kieran, her hip pressing casually against him, and somehow when she straightened up she didn’t pull away.
“You’d better drink before it ends up on the floor,” Miri teased Caim. “Unless you want it there,” she drank her own again, the heavy rush of the whiskey starting to tingle through her.
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Post by sojourn on May 22, 2019 16:10:49 GMT
"Y eah, that's one way 'f puttin' things. There's folks who're tryin' t' get by th' best they can, an' while I'll say not all 'f 'em are honest—Ceres an' his ilk aren't, mind you—there's folks who don't have much 'f a choice, neither." Instead of being prompted, Kieran just nodded and continued, "I tend t' help good folks out when th' City Watch doesn't want to—catchin' folks who slip through th' cracks 'f th' system, stuff like that." It was difficult to make hunting bounties sound appealing most of the time, but the half-drow had justified his choices over the years. Sometimes, he even worked with the Watch when there were criminals they didn't want to catch but needed found. Most of the time, however, he worked for Waterdeep locals: merchants, middle to lower class, and the occasional upper crust who needed a problem solved that they didn't want to bring to the attention of anyone wielding the actual law at all. His attention shifted briefly when Miri straightened against him, suddenly alert as if she'd noticed something potentially dangerous that he did not in his distraction. Her laughter dismissed his caution, however, and her slow, aware smile invited an arching of a slim, white eyebrow once both herself and Caim had mentioned the Dock Ward, "I've lived in th' Dock Ward nearly all m' life. It's safer 'cause I'm there." Kieran grinned, aware that he had yet to make the impact on his home that he hoped he would one day, the sincerity in his tone revealing he at least believed such an endeavor possible, "Miri's right 'bout th' Sea Ward, though—"He couldn't help but leave whatever comment was against the back of his teeth unspoken, however, chuckling at the young woman's coy question. She reached to send some stray foam from the side of the tiefling's dirty mug to its doom on the even dirtier floor and the not-so-casual shift of her body against his didn't go unnoticed. Kieran inhaled slowly and realized that what could have been his own misinterpretation when it came to flirtation was, in fact, definitely true. His warm grin was for Caim, however, studying his coppery, nervously cheerful expression and letting his gaze wander over infernally otherworldly features, features that weren't at all displeasing, "I s'pose that means you'll at least have me t' walk y' home then, hmm? T' keep y' safe, 'f course." The half-drow's use of the word home felt far more devious than the mundane definition of the word should have been, but it was the use of the word safe that was undeniably a play off of Miri's words and no less of an innuendo. This was fine. This was a far better game to play than the violence that had, in its own way, brought them together. He paused for another swig, using the motion of setting his mug down on the bar to shift in his seat, leaning more on his elbow toward Caim and therefore more or less leaning against Miri, resisting the urge to rest a cheek against her shoulder and still very respectfully keeping from accidentally ending up closer to her corseted chest than anyone should be without invitation. His next comment was for her, anyway, thick with both compliment and far more obvious invitation. Maybe, just maybe, there was a bit of mischief-laden curiosity woven between the gaps of syllables, too: "That said, Miri's clearly full o' surprises in any situation, so, I understand 'f you'd rather her company travelin' from here t' th' docks than mine." If he leaned too much further, he'd probably end up on the floor or in Caim's occupied seat, precariously balanced and unapologetically borrowing the young woman's whole as his anchor. His violet gaze shifted and he tilted his head just so to match the coyness in his voice, "M'haps we'd both best keep that in mind—y'don't strike me as a Mistshore resident, after all."
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Post by orby on May 23, 2019 12:38:06 GMT
"I..." Caim's answer broke off as Miri's fingers laid almost pointedly over his and lingered a moment before brushing away a drip of liquid running down the side of the glass. It wasn't an accidental touch, but it was soft and warm and distracting. When was the last time someone touched him? Brief instances of contact when he was healing people didn't feel like they should count; that was always him doing the touching.
It took him a moment or two too long to remember what he was doing. Right, talking.
"...I usually stay inside and read before I go to sleep. There's plenty of time to explore during the day."
(And frankly, he'd probably get lost wandering around at night.)
"So...maybe that's why we've never run into each other before? We might keep different hours." He directed the thought at Kieran, lips curling into a hint of a smile as he mused on it. He would have noticed anyone else who stood out as much as him in a city that seemed mostly populated by humans with a scattering of dwarves and elves and halflings and only the occasional novelty beyond that. "But I suppose you're like a guard, then? That's comforting, actually."
Because it meant someone beyond the Watch was looking out for everyone? Or because it meant he'd definitely sided with the good guys? Both ideas occurred to him, but the latter felt distinctly more selfish. Was he just looking for validation?
His shoved that thought away. No need to ruin a pleasant mood with his own self-deprecation.
"Oh..." Miri reminded him of his drink again -- or more specifically, what he was supposed to be doing with it -- and he smiled automatically (if perhaps without quite as much enthusiasm as before). "Right, sorry..."
It seemed even harder to manage the drink with both of them watching him so closely. Shoulders hunching a little under the attention, he steeled himself and took a proper swig. It took a great deal of willpower not to grimace at the taste. Even still, the effort was probably obvious, his jaw tensed and eyebrows furrowed, a faint tremor running through his form.
Eughhh.
He swiped at the corner of his lips with a curled knuckle, wiping away a stray drop of the not-entirely-ale. Setting the drink back down, the tiefling turned his focus back to the other two, latching onto the new subject to hopefully distract from his struggle.
"It's nice of you to offer," he said, adopting a smile that was just a teeny bit strained by the aftertaste in his mouth. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone, but..."
A pause. He trailed off, considering it maybe more seriously than their cheerful, teasing manners called for. "If it's so dangerous, then neither of you should be going alone either."
They did handle themselves just fine against Ceres' group. And presumably plenty of times before that, if they'd lived in Waterdeep for so long. Maybe they just thought he was less capable. But it seemed like tempting fate to leave anyone without an escort after insisting it was so risky.
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Post by moralhazard on May 23, 2019 13:22:35 GMT
There had been a moment of a slightly different type of attention when Kieran explained his work. For just a brief instant, Miri had given him a bright and somewhat quizzical look, followed by a slight nod. Either she had lost all ability to tell what somehow meant, or Kieran was saying he was a bounty hunter. Combined with all the rest of it, and he was a native Waterdhavian bounty hunter with an excellent knowledge of the dock wards. Yes, Miri thought, there might be several good reasons to get to know him.
After all, her contacts in Waterdeep were rustier than she’d have liked, after years away from the city. It was, too, her first trip here alone.
Then again, tonight had gone very well so far. Better than it had any right to, really. Kieran was resting against her, his slender, muscular body a warm and pleasant weight, but still holding off just - just a bit. She could feel the warmth of him almost but not quite touching her bare shoulder and neck as he coaxed the tiefling into accepting an escort.
Miri’s eyes slid past Caim one last time, this time as he choked down another swallow of ale; she caught a glimpse of a mohawk’d halfling disappearing out the main flap of the tent. The old man was gone.
And, honestly, now the conversation was becoming absorbing enough that Miri didn’t really need to try for it to keep her attention. A slow, wicked smile curved over her face at Caim’s suggestion. Either he was a remarkable actor, or entirely ignorant of the subtext of the conversation. Miri didn’t bother to hold back a soft chuckle, her body shaking against Kieran with the laugh.
“Very thoughtful of you,” Miri grinned at Caim, all friendly but for something in the edges of it with a very different tone. “You’re right - it would be a shame if anyone was left out. Don’t you agree?” She turned back to Kieran, raising her eyebrow at him.
Miri took another swig from her ale and set it down. She shifted slightly, planting her feet to let Kieran stay against her, but leaning comfortably into Caim’s space.
“Here,” Miri took Caim’s hand in hers this time. His skin was very warm; pleasant, really. Her other hand tugged the flask free, and she set it into his palm, curling his hand around it with hers, so both of her hands were clasped against him, just for a moment.
“Take a drink, see if you like that better,” Miri didn’t break the contact, still clasping his hand between hers. She winked at him. “It might be a little much, for your first time, but I think you’ll get used to it.” She released his hand; one of hers went back to the ale, and the other rested comfortably, easily, against Kieran’s thigh, as if there were no more natural place for it.
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Post by sojourn on May 23, 2019 15:46:58 GMT
T he half-drow was literate, at least, but he could definitely say he'd never had made even a remotely successful student had his studies ever required sitting still for too long or completing an entire book from cover to cover. When Caim admitted to finding such an activity relaxing before sleeping, Kieran flashed an appreciative smile, keeping the expression when he shrugged about their lack of ever having met in the Dock Ward before, "Th' only regular hours I keep 're th' days I teach. Otherwise, I keep th' hours 'f whatever I'm huntin', really." Most of his kind hunted beasts in the forest or monsters in the dark, but the lithe dark-skinned ranger of sorts hunted the urban sprawl of cities like Waterdeep for ne'er do wells no less monstrous or bestial than what lurked in the wild far outside the guard-kept walls or the shadows far beneath the dirt, "Like a guard?" He chuckled, "Sure. I'll take that as a compliment, 'cause I've been called a lot worse. I keep an eye on what matters t' me, yes. Most folks may not want t' call me their people b'cause 'f m' heritage—not that I had a choice in that matter—but that doesn't mean I can't take care 'f what I consider m' home."Caim was not a drinker just like Kieran was not an academic. Or, if nothing else, the tiefling was not at all a fan of lukewarm ale made only barely more tolerable by the slow burn of Miri's whiskey. It wasn't necessarily the most enjoyable path to drunkenness, but it did the work for far less coin than the tastier stuff. Speaking of Miri, her attention kept slipping into the crowded tavern and had the half-drow had the presence of mind to curiously observe whatever she was doing, he would have been interested in the stories. However, he was admittedly far too distracted by her presence, warm and moving against him with the reach of her hands and the gentle motion of laughter, to even bother to keep a proper look out at the denizens of the Dawn and Dusk any more, let alone follow along with whatever subtleties were at play under her casual observation. "Both of us, huh? Oh. Well. I can't deny th' sayin' that there's safety in numbers, after all—" Caim's apparent innocence made interpretation of what the half-drow would have otherwise taken as both an innuendo and an invitation cautious at best, but at the same time, the tone in Miri's voice blurred the lines of what was permissive and what was actually being promised all over again. Kieran was decidedly warm now, the creep of heat crawling from the back of his neck and downward, pooling at the base of his spine, the diluted darkness of his skin hiding what felt for all intents and purposes far too much like a blush. It was definitely the alcohol, he attempted to assure himself, and totally not the way the way the young woman quirked a brow at him or the way she made sure to keep such comfortable bodily contact or the way Caim smiled so shyly, the half-drew still curiously drawn to the contrast of warm copper and charcoal. Even if the tiefling was at least pretending to be clueless, Kieran wasn't, and his teeth tugged and toyed with the metal through his lower lip as if he had anything at all to think about before he could finish his somewhat breathless reply. He paused while Miri fished out her flask and made her intentions clear with flirtatious overtures, her touch lingering first on Caim and then on his thigh, her last words eliciting a laugh from him. The three of them skirting creatively around attraction and interest as the tavern bustled and rumbled, drank and did whatever underhanded business Mistshore denizens did every night. Here they were taking a far less direct route toward potentially pleasurable things just moments after swiftly doling out violence without a second thought, "—look, I'm not opposed t'makin' sure y' both make it home safely, but, really, y' can both just stay with me an' figure out th' rest when th' sun's back up." He didn't stutter or stumble over making his intention clear, no longer speaking in metaphor but instead choosing to strike more directly, albeit suddenly from the shadows. As he was wont to do in combat, so too he was doing with the least casual of pick up lines possible. That invitation was most likely as direct as Kieran was capable of being, really, his lopsided grin in Caim's direction not fading as he leaned to purr in a far quieter tone, free hand coming to rest on Miri's with the curl of lithe but calloused fingers, dark-skinned cheek brushing her ear so he could angle himself closer between herself and the tiefling, hiding any hesitant, lingering shyness behind rather bold words, "I've got th' room anyway ... and ... I'd like t' think I can handle th' two 'f you. At once. Maybe. Probably." Clearly, he was at least willing to fail trying. It couldn't be a horrible fate, he was certain of that.
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Post by orby on May 24, 2019 6:38:33 GMT
The flask suddenly being pressed into his palm should have been intimidating -- whatever was in there had turned an unpleasant drink into something that made his throat feel like it was on fire -- but Miri's hands on his were grounding. Comforting. She had the slightly-rough hands of someone used to doing a bit of dirty work, but the steady touch of someone completely sure of themself. There wasn't a second of the interaction where Caim felt like she was forcing herself, like his colored skin or sharp claws bothered her, and so it wasn't very hard to give her a smile in return and take a chance with the flask.
Which. Ughhhh. His eyes clenched shut against the burn that seemed to reach down between his lungs like that would somehow help. Mercifully, none of the liquid was spat back out, but he definitely stopped himself after that one quick swig.
"It's...very strong," he croaked out, trying to get his throat to cooperate again without making a series of ridiculous faces that would make his feelings about the drink too obvious.
At least the others were having fun with it, Kieran laughing while Miri winked and settled comfortably against the half-elf. Something about it all gave him the feeling they probably already knew his feelings about the booze. But for all that they seemed amused by it, the interaction didn't feel mocking or otherwise insincere. Both of them, lady and half-drow alike, looked content and at ease as they leaned against each other.
He might have thought they were a couple, so casual they were about invading each other's personal space, if not for the fact that he'd just witnessed their introductions himself minutes earlier.
So not a couple, just...flirting. Definitely flirting. He wasn't that oblivious that he could miss it. It almost made him feel like he was intruding, but their eyes and words kept coming back to him, keeping him included so effortlessly that it almost made him doubt the flirting deduction. It didn't seem to bother them whatsoever that there was a third party witnessing that development from a front row seat.
Or, potentially, spoiling the potential for an evening together. The offer struck him as a bit odd, but who was he to question how they wanted to spend their night? It seemed ungrateful to question such a kind gesture, the promise of safety and company in what was apparently quite the risky area. A hint of a smile inched back onto his face, up until Kieran leaned in to practically whisper an addendum to that offer and...okay, maybe that justified a bit of questioning.
"Handle..." Caim echoed, brows knitting together in perplexed thought. It took another few moments for him to parse that semi-confident declaration, glancing between the other two. The cogs working in his head were practically visible on his face.
His eyes dropped briefly to Miri's hand on the half-elf's thigh, and something seemed to finally click into place. Caim's eyebrows arched up in clear surprise, his lips forming a silent oh.
Because...yeah. Oh.
"...I think I missed something," he said after a moment, still a bit bemused like he wasn't quite sure if he really was understanding properly or if he'd just jumped to a hilariously wrong conclusion. It felt hilariously wrong to him, at least.
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Post by moralhazard on May 24, 2019 9:55:34 GMT
Kieran struck, as fast and precise with his words as he had been with his fists during their very-short fight. Miri chuckled again, sultry and low. It was an abrupt escalation of the topic they had been dancing around, but nonetheless welcome. Miri didn’t count the time spent flirting and promising a waste; it was more like a slow burn, a subtle building of tension that she for one, enjoyed, and that...
... had entirely passed Caim by, based on the look of puzzlement on his face, which slowly resolved itself into a different and maybe deeper kind of confusion.
Miri studied Caim carefully for a long moment in the aftermath of his question. Kieran’s hand was resting on hers, light pressure to keep her in place against his thigh, but Miri wasn’t quite so easy to hold. Her elbow crooked, and nudged itself into Kieran’s ribs, lightly pressing him backwards towards his neglected stool. Miri would give him a moment to shift his weight off her, at least enough that he wouldn’t fall when she moved.
And move she did. Her ale was left behind; one hand settled on the counter, and she lifted herself with a smooth and effortless grace to nestle easily into Caim’s lap. One moment she was standing, and the next she was sitting against him, a warm solid weight resting on him.
Miri took the flask from Caim, handing it back to Kieran without needing to look. She smiled at the tiefling, softer, without the sharp edges he had seen earlier. This was important; it mattered very much to Miri that everyone present be not merely willing but downright enthusiastic. What else was the point? No coercion was acceptable, although perhaps a little liquid courage was.
“Would you like to come to bed with us, Caim?” Miri could have leaned in and whispered the words into his ear, could have nestled herself even further against him, or stroked his chest or - well. There was no denying how close her face was to his, but she didn’t close the gap entirely. Instead, she looked at him as comfortably as if they were discussing the weather across the table, and asked the question with an even, unabashed frankness.
One heartbeat, a second, and Miri continued. “You’ve an escort home either way,” she promised, one hand taking his. She couldn’t quite help herself as much as she had intended; her thumb settled into his palm and stroked gently along the center of it. “Only it’s your choice whether it’s tonight or tomorrow.”
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Post by sojourn on May 24, 2019 18:53:28 GMT
S traight whiskey was definitely not the softest of landings when one was traveling the path toward inebriation. It was rough and burned. Kieran's pale brows drew together in empathy as Caim wheezed and coughed his way through a swig, concern curling dark lips into a smile not meant to mock so much as to include. Still, the fleeting, falling sensation that followed his bold words was a heartbeat of worry that he'd said too much, too directly and the half-drow's expression faltered, violet gaze watching the tiefling's own attention dart over the body language of his unexpected and (perhaps more accurately) unashamed companions— But, then there was Miri. In a far less violent echo of how she'd stepped just so into combat, the young woman moved with an ease and confidence that was definitely enviable in both her allure and her gracefulness. Her elbow was more than just a subtle hint to move, to let her free, and a lesser creature than Kieran would have interpreted such a wordless command as rejection or denial. He didn't. The shorter, lithe half-elf instead settling back into his stool, hand over hers lingering long enough for a quick but gentle squeeze before he released Miri to watch her turn her full attention on Caim. Us, she said clearly, but the honesty was not meant to be urgent or demanding. Did that mean that Kieran himself was included regardless? Did it matter? He wasn't so conceited to fret over her meanings, not now, not in this moment. Miri had made her interest known as far as he could tell, but he didn't quite feel in a position to begrudge her should she change her mind. He simply wasn't that kind of person and even the briefest of friendly contact that she'd allowed, that she'd invited, really, had been quite nice. He had no complaints, either way, even if he might have had hopes of his own. Leaning against the bar in absence of a body instead, he paused to scan the room, to glance downward at the metal-gauged holes in his shirt, one hand reaching up in a moment of distraction to let calloused fingers trail under bloodied fabric and over newly healed skin, resting his palm there. Tilting his head back toward the tiefling and the young woman, the far warmer tones of their skin complimentary, belike but still very different, "It's just an offer." Kieran hadn't necessarily come to Mistshore looking for a bar fight, let alone bedfellows, but that didn't mean he was going to say no to one or the other. Ceres had given him little choice, in his opinion, but he wasn't about to deny Caim the freedom of consent. Hardly in the kind of rush his previous words had made it sound, the half-drow preferred taking his time when it mattered. Besides, he'd promised safety after all, not necessarily just from predatory Waterdhavians who'd consider the copper-skinned creature an easy target but also from his own curiosities if need be, "M'haps about as forward as it is friendly." He chuckled, shrugging, falling quiet to allow Caim his own mind on the matter.
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