It is Just Dinner

Log Info

• Title: It is Just Dinner
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Venom, Jinks, Ravenstongue
• Place: The TarRaCe
• Time: December 27th, 2021
• Summary: It's just dinner, how bad could it be? Violet and Aryia have dinner with Aryia's parents, Khalees and Xarann. Both ex-nobles from Charn, the dinner is a normal on the surface, but in reality its a hidden interrogation. One that Violet does her very best to not slip up on anything about herself. And she does well, the parents approving of her. A couple more friends are invited up. Drinks are shared, advice is given, as well as some teasing to Ravenstongue. Jinks gives some life advice and heads out, while the interrogation begins again just as the main course is served.

The TarRaCe, Night.

The night is bustling in the TarRaCe. Warm, good food, excellent environment. There's a band playing something swanky this time around, keeping the mood on the up and up.

Aryia told Venom that there were a couple of people that she would like to meet. The mute was nervous about it, and mentioned that a couple of elves looking for someone came into the city a week or so ago. And these elves were incredibly curious about Violet. Asking a lot of questions about the both of them. She assured it wasn't anything from the Metal, and it was from her own past. She'd arrange a private table and everything so it can go smoothly.

So, she was incredibly nervous as Aryia steps into the TarRaCe in her green, gold trimmed dressed. Behind her was two figures in cloaks, hoods drawn over, and standing close.

"Where is this person?" a woman's voice asks, tone rich and low, them looking around.

"Relax dear, we have time. There is no rush anymore," a soft man's voice intones.

Aryia, too, tries to see where Violet is. She said to meet them here....

That Violet was already drawb attention from out of town... troubled the human.

Mollifying her paranoia took... doing, but with her centennarian patience and resolve, with her typical warmth, Aryia rose to the challenge.

Still, there are even odds that Violet is employing most, if not all, of the hidden pockets in the attire of her most passive seeming.

Her anxieties are the unknowns, but she's been too long afield not to be able to periodicly scan her environs without being overt in same.

She emerges from the area of rest, where a soul can handle certain accomodations to biology with privacy and dignity untarnished.

It's on a sweep as she rejoins the feasthall proper, that she spies her North Star and her presumed company.

With her hands clasped before her, the freckled brunette makes her way toward them with a demure, if slightly sheepish look coached accross her features as she pardon me's her way around waitstaff and guests alike.

Aryia breathes a sigh of relief as she sees the long braided human picking her way through the crowd. She raises a hand to get her attention, waving her on over. Both the figures stiffen.

"Is that-" "Is this-"

Both figures zip it once they get in earshot, Aryia stepping up to Violet. "Hey!" she motions quickly, reaching out to take a hand. "Come upstairs, we have a table reserved. I'll make introductions then."

A pair of silvery eyes and deep violet eyes from two dawn elves under the hood watch the pair, not saying anything further as they make to follow.

It's really awkward. <Handspeech>

The human smiles fondly to the Mul'niessa at sigh of her upraised hand, and her light steps bring her within conversation distance in short order.

The braided woman pinches her hem in two places and sinks into a curtsey before rising in time to take Aryia's hand. Dark eyes sweep the hoods, spying the eyes within as she discretely moistens her lips before nodding to her dear one, "Of course, lead on." her voice soft and gentle.

The pale woman was taller than all three of them. Yet the way the two cloaked figures held themselves, it was if she they were standing tall and poised. Their eyes widen slightly at the human's gesture, and they both return it in kind. The woman opening her cloak some to curtsey, rapier on a hip seen, and the man crossing his only left arm over his waist and bending in a proper bow. They rise, their expressions faintly lighter.

Aryia leads everyone up the spiral stairs, and directs them to a table with four seats, two on each side. There's a little card that says 'Aryia and co.'

The two figures sit, and Aryia pulls a chair out for Violet as she too, sits.

Aryia gestures at the two of them. "Well, uh, Violet. These are.... my parents. K-H-A-L-E-E-S and X-A-R-A-N-N." First to the woman, then to man.

Both elves pull their hoods down. And an illusion wavers. Vanishing in a shadowy 'poof'.

Khalees is a mul'neissa woman in her late second century. A leather eyepatch covers her left eye, while a deep violet one watches the two of them with a lightly amused smile cresting black painted lips. Moon-colored hair sweeps down around her shoulders.

Xarann is of similar shadow elf heritage and of similar age, eyes a silver, a elegant still, but somewhat soft. Crimson hair spills out from his head like a frozen waterfall. The most notable feature about him was that he bore only a singular arm. The other one gone from the shoulder down.

"Good eve," they both greet polietly.

"And this is V-I-O-L-E-T. My girlfriend," Aryia gestures slowly, the last sign a bit more firm. The man blinks, and translates. <Handspeech>

"Ah, Violet. What a pretty name," the mother croons, her singular eye squinting some.

The rapier was likely catalogued in the sweep of an eye, but the human has no reaction upon her countenance. Travelling in small groups, it's expected to be armed, after all. Not everyone can jsut use their hands.

Or their environment.

Violet follows Aryia's lead in the wake of their first, silent exchange, accepting the drawn chair with a quiet, "Thank you, dear." before settling in and squaring up as a proper young lady should at the table.

With the obfuscations' dismissal, her brows knit before she glances to Aryia, then back to two of them.

Hammer.

And forge.

She lets her North Star handle the introductions, but she affords them a smile and slow bow of her head as she replies, "Thank you, ma'am. It's very nice to finally meet you, both."

Obsidian pools flick once toward Aryia, but the human opts to proceed carefully, not yet seeking guidance from the Mul'niessa now the Crimson Pen.

Soon.

"And you as well. Every time, we ask Zi-" Khalees pauses. Takes a breath, then continues, "-Aryia- apologies- she turns redder than I've ever seen before."

Xarann chuckles quietly, as Aryia is already turning red. Menus are passed about, and Aryia signs to have some wine. "Order whatever you want."

"It is nice that Aryia found someone after all this time apart. Though... we are curious as to how you two met."

Not certain how much information Aryia has given to Zilstrae's parents, Venom opts to maintain Violet's seeming in all respects.

There is another gracious bow of her head and considers the menu for some moments before the query of their meeting comes up.

The befreckled brunette shifts a little in her seet and swallows, "Well... there were these... dreadful ruffians...!"

She glances toward the Mulniessa and smiles fondly, reaching out to take a hand in both of hers, "She was so brave!" A light squeeze.

Let them fill in the gaps.

GAME: Venom rolls disguise: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Skielstregar rolls 1d20+12: (13)+12: 25

It was uncertain how much Aryia told them. But the Venom under Violet could get the sense that these people were cut from a rough cloth in the past. This was not just a casual meeting the parents.

This was a silent interrogation.

From what Aryia had mentioned of her past, these two are- or, rather used to be under the Tyrant and Taara's colors. So every social encounter was a dance to peek at the other's cards in hand as much as possible.

The mother raises a brow, the one over the eyepatch. "Oh...?" she smirks lightly. "Saving damsels in distress, now are we?"

Aryia pouts, but it smooths out some as she returns the hold on her hands. She smiles lightly.

Now it was the father to speak. Him softer spoken, but still just a force of personality as the mother. "Mistress Violet, if I may ask. What it is that you do? You seem of the academic sort."

It is now clear that Aryia has told them absolutely nothing about Violet. And Venom, for that matter.

The human does have some details to work with, though, only enough to plug new information into for a proper conceptual framework. She spares a veiled glance toward Aryia at the replie from the matron, "It..."

She hesitantly lifts her chin and looks to the ancient woman's gaze, "Is a lauded thing in this land, Madame, to be willing to help others."

There's a soft pat to the hand in hers, a light squeeze, then, she seems to remember herself and dip her chin, eyeing her lap for a moment.

Processing.

Queried, she looks up to the Patriarch, now, and ahems daintily behind a hand without completely forsaking Aryia's, "then, "I tend to books, sir, ledgers and the like. Occasionally, I will translate or take dictation."

Wine is brought up during the questioning, cork removed and glasses passed out to all. The matron smirks some. "That we have seen thus far. You have read your... Tribune, no? Aryia made her name in there. Fighting demons no less. And to think the one she comes home to is studied so. You must be... /really/ special," she stresses, smiling sweetly.

There's... no way she figured it out. Right? Right...?

Aryia squeezes the hand in hers, her flashing a hidden, "You're fine," to Violet under the table as the human looks to her lap.

The shadows bend near the wine bottle, a rough shape of a hand appearing and falling against it before it vanishes in a scattering of shadow. A familiar one, like flour dropped on the floor. The bottle slides across the table to the waiting hand of Xarann. He pours everyone a glass of wine. "I see. A necessary profession, and a a good one at that. Khal and I here are...- Aryia, how much have you spoken to Violet about?"

Aryia taps her fingers together, then motions slowly, "She knows where I'm from. My name and... what I used to be." <Handspeech>

"Ah. Then, we will speak plainly. Khal and I used to be priests of the Unholy Union, but we've since left that life behind us. Now we are simply travelers. We were looking for one particular... person. But, it seems we stumbled into what we were seeking."

He chuckles, a bit weak, and he looks into his wine. "... heavens only know now what we are to do now."

The floral one takes the returns from her parents in thoughtful silence, her eyes holding to each in turn as they speak.

The discrete sign doesn't prompt a replying nod, that would tip their hand, instead, there's a little squeeze of her hand.

The shadowy spectacle returns her attention to the likely price of 'leaving that life behind'.

She can relate.

Most of her early adventuring gains went toward reutning herself to proper funcionality.

Venessa....

Violet.... would only emerge, after.

This is head and shoulders more involved than most social dynamics she's witness in the past.

Fortunately, Sloe and Stedi comes to the rescue again. (get your copy, today!)

She looks to the engineers of her dearest one's life, appraising their words, their wounds, and the trust Aryia is expecting of her and she gives a wan, sympathetic smile, much like her North Star had in Venom's darker moments in her company, and offers a gentle, "I'm so sorry... it must have been terrible for you."

She looks to the younger Mul'niessa, now, then, "But... it's good that you've been able to come together again."

There were so many layers to this social dynamic, one would wonder if this was just small talk, or dirt being spilled out for all to see.

Or, was it just that the two engineers were just so used to operating like that, that's all they knew?

"It is fine. There have been many trials since the day we separated from our daughter," the matron waves off. "Most that we have yet to share, as we did not wish to invoke further migraines from Aryia."

The mute bobs her head, glancing to Violet with a small smile.

"It is well. But it is also strange," the father sighs quietly.

There is a moment where the server comes for orders. They are briskly placed, and they are left alone once more.

"This is no longer the daughter we once knew. And we are not the parents she once had. It is different for certain..."

The two elves look to each other, then start to chuckle to themselves. There's a few motions between them. Not any sort of sign language. Just a raise of a brow, a nod of a head, a raise of a shoulder. A whole conversation laid out that could only happen through being in the vicinity with another for literal centuries. "How boorish of us to lament on our past," the mother groans, putting a hand to the forehead. "Tell us about yourself! Have you always lived in Alexandria?" she leans forward, interested.

Aryia sweats.

Looking to her lap again after the senior Mul'niessa toss the conversation back into it, Violet sighs and her empty hand worries at the cloth of her robe, "We travelled a lot.... my.... my Father demanded it."

There is a veiled, sidelong glance to Aryia, a swallow, and she goes on, "I helped him with record keeping. He always..." She squeezes the hand again, "He always wanted to know where everything was."

The veiled glance is shared. And perhaps it was the worst sight one could see.

Aryia was way out of her depth.

"So your father moved about, and you had to keep track of things..." Khalees echoes, expertly swirling her glass of wine. "My... are you still working under your father? You seem young. I take it you won't be in this city long, then?"

The mute squeezes the hand back.

The matron looks to her husband. "Should we meet them as well?"

Xarann chuckles, shaking his head. "Dear, tone it down, you're going to give the poor girl a heart attack."

There's a shake of the plaited head, "No, Madame." the Acanian replies softly, "That would not be possible. His work was all to him... and he was...."

A squeeze, "driven... beyond reason. Ultimately it... became too much for him."

Dark eyes close and she takes a slow breath, then, trying to afford her dear a reassuring smile, turns back toward her progenitors, "I make my own way, now."

Ahem, "Well... not entirely alone..." A coy smile turns back to Aryia, then.

The matron took such blunder in stride. "Ah. My condolences," she nods deeply before lifting her glass up some. "May he finder better rest now."

That last bit gets Aryia to turn beet red.

That makes both the parents whip over to Aryia. There's a silent exchange. Then.

"Do you live with her now?" the matron asks.

Aryia blushes deeper.

"Aryia Zilstrae Aeldius!" she dramatically gasps, then starts to snicker. "Very special woman indeed."

Aryia rubs the side of her head, somehow turning redder.

The matron's acceptance warrants a wan smile and nod, "Thank you." she returns.

She looks to Aryia then, Violet's eyes scanning her face for any extra signs she might be aware of something, or in need of something, he human would otherwise overlook. A second later, she looks to her love's parents at her mother's remarks.

It takes a second for the cogs to mesh in properly.

Oh.

Fidget, "Ah...!" she stammers.

The mother did not relent. "Aha! And so our daughter manages to become renown in a foreign land, land with a studied woman, /and/ still manages to be thick skulled through it all!"

Xarann reaches over, putting a hand on Khalees's shoulder. "That's enough, you're pushing too hard." He turns to face the couple. "I'm sorry. It's just... we are too excited to see how our daughter has grown over these decades. And we're.... just really happy is all."

Venom's eyes take in the motion, running it through what she knows from observation.

From literature.

Her hands encapsulate Aryia's and she smiles in that closed-eye way before turning earnest, tender warmth to Aryia herself, "She's been a great help, an... inspiration to me."

Both the parents tilt their head to the side. "Oh? How so?" they ask in tandem, a smile cresting their lips.

"She has been helping me...." Violet explains tenatively at first, her hands squeezing ever so gently on the dark digits they envelope, "cope with new circumstances. Dealing with... with people." The human swallows, fidgetting just a little, then, "Showing me ways to... defend myself if I must."

The human smiles a touch and dips her head demurely as she casts a lingering sidelong look to her girlfriend, "How to... find out who I want to be."

Aryia blinks a bit, her eyes widening ever so slightly. The truth in the words were cross persona, and the mute smiles truly, squeezing the hands back.

The heartfelt answer gives the mul'neissa parents pause. They look to each other, then to the couple, then back to each other. More silent conversation. A slight raise of a brow. A double blink. A half shrug of a shoulder.

Then, the matron turns to Violet. All teasing drops. Her face evens out to a subtle warm smile. And she croons in a maternal manner, "I hope that your time with our daughter will fill in the carvings that your life has created, giving it color and splendor that would make even the absent Lady envy."

The human smiles bashfully, now and she shrinks a little back into herself under the acceptance put forth in her regard.

The bookish seeming human's withdrawl seems to stop at a lock of eyes with Aryia, and the pink ghost of her tonguetip flashes minutely along the seam of her doctored lips. These then part in a fond smile as she nods, thrn turns her attention anew to the souls that wrought her dear one forth into the world.

Their relative lifespans being what they are, Violet, and Venom deeper still, has much to reconcile as to the full dynamics of their relationship, but there is another squeeze of hands, then, "You are most kind, Madame... I only hope I... can enrich her life in our time together as she does mine."

Keeper Stedi, don't fail her now...!

Aryia is blushing fiercly at this point. Dark pools meet with torch-bright ones. This is... going smoothly. Far smoother than she could have imagined. The hand is given another squeeze, and the mute picks up her drink to quell her rising nerves.

Khalees glances to the scarred daughter before returning back to Violet. That singular eye of a similar hue as the persona before it. Full of centuries of experience. The life before her was but a drop in comparison.

"Child." She inhales, then slowly lets it out, the deep violet orb half lidding. "I can see it in your eyes. You worry about trying to put a dent in those long, long decades. To hope that your fleeting years mean something in comparison to the monumental tide of our own, long lived lives. Allow me to let you in on a little secret."

The mother leans in, her voice quiet, yet firm. "Us Sildanyar are made up of our life experiences. It is why we make things so ornate, despite them perhaps lasting shorter than us. It is why we prose elegance, despite direct action being simpler. We make memories to build ourselves atop them."

She smiles, winks, and pulls back, leaning from her chair and sipping on her wine.

"You color her life already with your existence."

Another accursed opening of the door brings in a burst of deep winter cold--and with it comes Ravenstongue and Pothy. There is something distinct about them this time, however, as Raven appears to be shushing Pothy to no avail, crimson on her cheeks, as Pothy sings:

"Lana and Telamon, sitting in a tree--"

"Pothy! Pothy, shhh!" Ravenstongue groans. "Please, we're in public with people... Look, I came here to get you snacks and everything. You like snacks."

Ravenstongue's pleading (and bribing) works. Pothy stops dead in his brilliant vocal performance of the childish rhyme to regard Ravenstongue with his blue eyes. "Ok toots, but give me the goods," he says, his voice switching to an effortless imitation of a streetdweller. Ravenstongue rolls her eyes as she steps further into the TarRaCe to get out of the path of the cold.

Jinks enters from the opposite end of the commons room smelling heavily of lavender and other complimentary floral scents. His face is flushed and glistening with pleasant, after-baths sweat, and his hair hangs loose and limp down to his shoulders. The gnome's brief foray into full-beardedness (or at least full-peach fuzzedness) has been abandoned and he's back down to the immaculately-trimmed goatee.

Humming, the bard bounces curled fingers of one hand to conduct himself as he crosses the floor for a drink. His heavy coat is folded over his other arm. After being worn like a puppet on the hand of a god it felt rather nice to have a good, scalding bath.

Violet isn't certain how this should be going. Her guidance on such matters, get your copy today, has been somewhat holygodsmiss-hit-hit thus far, and so, she can, at best, react to Aryia's cues. The braided young woman leans against Aryia at the latter's dip into liquid courage.

Then Mom speaks anew.

While not quite ashen in the wake of her opening words, the matriarch's phrasing seems to slightly dim the human's expression, perhaps unable to stave off the idea that ultimately, her flicker of a span will simply render her a brief, if novel 'experience' rather than a companion. It isn't entirely unreasonable, though perhaps also not nentirely fair, but certain gears change, and it's compartmentalization to the rescue.

Though, the rest of the ancient woman's words seem to help mollify the fleeting soul's insecurities.

She bows her head with a soft, "You're.... too kind, Madame..." She looks to Aryia, smiling with a spash of rose along the freckles dotting her cheeks, and, "Thank you."

"Do not take it the wrong way," Khalees amends, watching Violet lean into Aryia. "Such memories are important to us. We hold them close. We hold them dear. Hence why we spent so long trying to find our daughter. She has never had /that/ look before."

Aryia is watching Violet, eyes soft, a faint smile on her lips. She then glances to her mother, then her father before going stark red once more and looking away.

The matron snickers. "So you are doing well for yourself."

There's a crinkle of glass somewhere, and the father perks up, him looking over the railing before his brows raise. "Ah. Friends."

A shadow puffs out of existence from beside both Jinks and Ravenstongue, it whispering to them above the din. "Hello. We have a table upstairs. Please join us with our daughter, Aryia."

A glance up would show a silver eyed, crimson haired Mul'neissa man waving with an arm down to the two.

Ravenstongue blinks as she looks at the shadow, and then up at the waving man. "Good thing Grandfather already went home for the day," she says quietly to herself and Pothy. She went upstairs to join the group at the table, waving a greeting hello to Aryia and Violet with a warm smile. The warmth melted away somewhat as she looked at Aryia's parents. Given her recent experiences with meeting her own paternal figure, this reaction might be a bit understandable.

Pothy, however, regards everyone as potential snack-givers. But at the sight of Aryia, he not only sits up a bit taller on Ravenstongue's shoulder... He looks at Aryia's parents and appears to do the very real mental mapping. Possible raven punting is in his future from /three/ different parties if he is not on his best behavior.

"Good evening," Ravenstongue greets with a smile, completely unaware of the terror within Pothy's little feathered body.

The gnome's song is interrupted by a little chirp of surprise and a half-hop backwards at the shadow's arrival. He's collected himself in short order and eases the tension out of his shoulders with a mutter-laden sigh in his gnative Gnomish. A glance from the shadow up to the balcony and he dips a nod 'hello' before holding up a 'just a moment' finger before resuming his trip to the bar, giving the shadow a wide berth.

A quick dusting of the stool before he sets down his coat carefully and delivers an order and the coins to go with it. His hands reach up and back, gnimble fingers collecting his hair and tying it back with a black ribbon trimmed crimson to match his circlet. The drink arrives but he takes another moment to do up his vest, attend his cuffs, and make sure his pants and boots don't require a quick bit of hedge magick cleaning. His public holds him to certain standards, after all.

All done, the dandy takes his drink and coat-- the twin tools of survival in this cold, dark world-- and makes for the stairs.

There could perhapss be a group session on the respetive progenerative figures amongst this most local population.

Violet, head bowed, smiles into Aryia's eyes, then turns back to the elder Mul'niessa, "How are you settling into Alexandria?" she asks.

Perhaps to buy Aryia time to recenter.

Or that she, herself, can.

Still, 'friends' perks one of her brows.

Then, they arrive, and the human turns a warm, demure smile to the new arrivals, "Good evening! You're looking well." she says gently.

Shadowy hands manifest from the floor as they fall against chairs, sliding them towards the table of mul'neissa and a human, expanding the party. "We find ourselves... getting used to it. It differs greatly from Charn, and we are doing our best to cast away old ways," the father answers Violet. "Starting with that inn we are staying at. They put us in a room that has a person-sized dent in the wall..."

The newcomers break that conversation up. Aside from the two younger folks, there are other souls present amongst the table where wine has been served, as well as some light dinner.

One mul'neissa is a woman with straight, moon colored hair and a deep violet eye. Singular. Her left eye is covered by a leather eyepatch. "Greetings, I am Khalees."

The other mul'neissa is a man with wild crimson hair and silver eyes. He only has a single arm, the left one. And it raises to wave politely. "Xarann. Charmed."

Both seem to be in their very late second century, or perhaps their early third century.

Aryia blinks as more people arrive, and she sits up straighter. She raises a hand in greeting.

Ravenstongue might be the most normal looking of the bunch here--except for, well, Pothy. He makes up for her average-ness by just existing. She looks nervously at the shadowy hands pulling out chairs, but she sits down. "It's nice to meet you. I'm a friend of Aryia and Violet's," she says. Surely seeing a show together with Violet constitutes friendship. "You may call me..."

Choosing a name is important. So she says, "You may call me Cor'lana." The one better suited for a sildanyari tongue. "And my familiar here is Apotheosis, or Pothy for short."

Pothy also chooses his next words wisely. He sticks with the most neutral and charming option: a soft and simple, "Merp!"

Jinks finds a hook near the door into the proprietress' room and hangs his coat before joining the party, sampling his drink on the way. He smiles faintly and laughs to himself, ignoring the urge to point out 'person-sized' isn't the best descriptor in a city with the likes of him and that of Arngrim. Though he does let slip a "Lot of that going around" when Xarann mentions being charmed. Bathed, oiled, and perfumed, the gnome smells of brightly-colored gardens in summer as he takes the offered seat.

The minstrel is a gnome who gneeds gno introduction and just lifts his glass in toast and greeting and offers a "And you as well" in return to Violet.

Jinks tilts his head and looks out the corner of his black eye at Pothy and fails to suppress a mischievous smile. Sucking at his teeth he muses, "Your familiar is oddly quiet tonight. Does that mean he's not hungry? Shame. I've a few of these roasted nuts leftover..."

"I've heard about that place." Violet replies smoothly without glancing at the model for the structural impression.

"It's the Fernwood, right? It has a good stew selection." the brunette's words are gently spoekn, and she lifts a hand to fingerwave as she's seen done toward the Splendid Mr Pothy, "Hello to you too, Mister Pothy!"

SMile.

She regards the gnome as he makes his prsence known and she bows her head, "I hope the night finds you well." though is offer of new snacks again perks her brow as the dark eyes swivel toward Pothy.

The one-eyed matron smiles. Though, it comes across as more of a smirk. "Ah, yes, we are aware of you. A pleasure Cor'lana. And... Pothy." She raises a brow at the bird. Khalees shifts some, a hilt of rapier glinting at her hip from the errant light. She speaks lowly, rich, a bit unsettling, "A pleasure to meet you as well."

The man picks up the slack, voice soft, yet firm. "We are Zil-" A pause, then correction like it never happened, "Aryia's parents. We were having a splendid dinner with her girlfriend, and wished to have more of her friends around."

Both parents raise a glass to Jinks, giving him a smile. "Pleasure to see you once more, Sir Jinks," they say in tandem.

The mother nods towards Violet. "Yes, it is the Fernwood. The food is well. If a bit rowdy at times."

Aryia is staring at the bird. "You are lucky I don't have a headache right now." <Handspeech>

Pothy looks as nervous as can be. However, he looks at Jinks' talk of roasted nuts with pleading blue eyes that seem to say: "Hi, I'm fucking /terrified/ right now, but I'd sure appreciate some of what you're offering." He's awfully expressive for a raven at times--nothing like Grandfather raven, of course, but Pothy has his moments.

"I wasn't aware Aryia spoke about me to you," Ravenstongue says with a polite smile while she sits in as dignified a manner as she can manage, her back straight up in her chair. Occasionally, Ravenstongue can pass off social grace. It might (literally) be in her blood. "I did, however, want to see Aryia, so the meeting was well timed!"

"The Hunter isn't blowing his words out through my face so it's an improvement on evening past." Jinks grins at Violet before having a drink. His smile spreads fit to split his face when Aryia gestures and he pops up and slides across the floor to his hanging coat to collect the crumpled newspaper bundle from a pocket.

"Just 'Jinks' is fine." He corrects on his way back, still smiling his amused smile. "Any titles I hold weren't granted by any grand authority... and probably aren't appropriate for polite company. Nevermind that you've managed to collect a set of mercenaries who all enjoy the common use of a pseudonym." The paper crinkles as he untwists it and holds it down to Cor'lana, unsure of the proper way to feed a sentient bird. "If they're enjoyed you might find Dame Paenitia del Haranna for more; she was handing them out yesterday."

Giving up the gift, he slides back and sits into his chair. "Well, throwing them out," he corrects, picking up his glass.

VIolet takes the man's response with a curious blink, but nods after, leaving it for later consideration.

She looks to the others as they speak, but doesn't do anything more to interject, simply absorbing the currents of conversation.

Khalees nods slowly, glancing up to Pothy. "She has," she answers simply. "Though... there is nothing to fear, Pothy. We aren't going to skewer you for forgetting to curtsey at the just the right angle or anything of the sort. You will find we are rather lax."

The father chuckles, looking to Jinks. "Very well, Jinks. You fare well? Last we saw, you was with another. I take it went well?"

Aryia seems to be in the same boat as Violet, her just watching for a spell. But she speaks with her other hand to Ravenstongue. "Relax, RT. They're fine." <Handspeech>

Ravenstongue relaxes a little in her seating stance. "In this case, it's my actual name," Ravenstongue says. "That's the name Grandfather gave me, and, once I heard it, I remembered my mother calling me Lana for short. I'm still fine with everyone calling me Raven, Ravenstongue... But, well, Grandfather named me when my own father didn't want to." She shakes her head. "But we're not here to discuss that. Has the evening been nice for everyone so far?"

"A nice evening," Pothy quietly says in an imitation of another half-elf's voice, and Ravenstongue flushes a little. She shoots a glare at Pothy and puts a finger to her mouth. Pothy looks imminently pleased with himself. If he can't beg for snacks obnoxiously, at least he can dine from Jinks' offered nuts--which he does so in impressive time--and antagonize Ravenstongue a bit. Everyone wins. Except for poor little Cor'lana.

"It did, thank you," Jinks nods, "and it's just another example of how doing the opposite of what a paladin tells you to do is often the correct course of action." He smiles smugly and swirls his drink.

"The oruch matron with the large hands was at the massage tables tonight. I don't know that a trip to the bathhouse could have been better," the gnome ventures in response to Ravenstongue. "The table is a gateway to Heroes' Welcome that continues to function in spite of abjurative interference-- as soon as you manage to stop thinking how she could snap you in twain if so desired..."

He has a mouthful from his glass.

"A paladin?" Violet wonders, gently patting Aryia's hand as she otherwise lets them interact.

Her eyes glance to Aryia's speech, then, she nods, and her hand slowly frames her own agreement, "Yes, they've been very good so far." <handspeech>

Aryia latches onto what Pothy says, and she strokes her chin. She blinks, then glances down towards the entrance of the TarRaCe before a grin plasters across the side of her face. "So... RT. Are you and T-E-L...?" she holds up one pointer finger, then another pointer finger, then brings them together with a smug look on her face. Called it!

The mother nods slowly. "Cor'lana then, until you say otherwise," she mentions, her raising a brow at Aryia's gesticulating.

Aryia had no stake in the matter, as far as she thought, and she returns the pat. "Thankfully. But, now I'm interested about this massage thing. I haven't done it yet, and I've been meaning to go. You said it was an oruch woman? I think that kind of brawn might be what I need to work this spot out in my back." <Handspeech>

Xarann snickers quietly. "Yes, take words of a paladin with caution, as they lead to indecision and missed opportunities."

Ravenstongue hides her growing flushing of the cheeks by coughing into the crook of her arm in the polite manner. "Yes, as of last night," she responds, then her eyes widen at her own implication and she hastily responds, "NOT LIKE THAT. We're just together as a couple! We're taking it slow." <Handspeech>

The half-elf sighs for a moment, composing herself. "Well, if she chooses not to snap your back but is fully capable of doing it, I'd say that makes her the right person for the job indeed," Ravenstongue says regarding the oruch woman's magic hands. ...Then she quickly finds herself needing a drink.

There is plenty of spare wine glasses and a bottle of wine to spare.

Ravenstongue very quickly spots a wine glass and pours herself a full glass, then begins to vigorously sip. She needs it.

Pothy's eyes go wide as dinner plates watching Ravenstongue drink like this.

"One took umbrage with me making efforts to be seen by a specific Person on my last visit to the Defense." Jinks tells Violet with a lazy smile. "I believe her words were something to the effect of 'the hospital is not a place to go trolling for dates.'" Another toast for Xarann at his agreement.

"I'm not exactly sure what you tallmen see in each other but I'm glad you can be happy together," Jinks teases with a wink. "And congratulations," he tells Cor'lana, directly.

Violet seems curious about Aryia's gestications, momentarily baffled by a certain gestural phrase, though Raven's sudden denial prompts a hand to daintly cover the lower half of her face.

Ahem.

Guilessly, she returns the gnome's observation of plumbing the dating scene with, "I thought that was graveyards?"

Warlock and Ki(wherever Crimson Pen is sold) is an inspiration all it's own.

Aryia blinks at Ravenstongue's verbiage. And her visage grows into a massive grin, only to temper to a lopsided smirk at the flailing clarification. "I see, I see. Well, let me know if you need any advice. I'm three for three right now, apparently. Dating advice, that is." A statistic she wears proudly on her shoulder. <Handspeech>

The father snickers towards the smallfolk. "And what better place to find someone that can take care of you, no?" he points out, raising his wine glass in a light cheer to that.

"All I need is for advice on how to not be a total idiot when it comes to love," Ravenstongue signs back with another little sigh, still slightly flushed. Oh, you know, those little coughing blushes that... linger for moments afterwards and are followed by rapid signing. So typical. At least the wine consumption was a handy excuse. <Handspeech>

She looks back to Jinks and says in tradespeak out loud, "Thank you. I'm looking forward to... Whatever it is the future holds. Hopefully happiness. It's all very new and foreign to me," she says, shying away from further eye contact to go back to her wine glass.

Pothy quietly cackles for Ravenstongue's misfortune, then has the common courtesy to nuzzle his beak into her hair to reassure her that he is only teasing her. (Mostly because she makes it very fun to do so.)

Jinks snorts at Violet's question, closing his eyes and laughing. "That reminds me of a joke." He drains his glass and sets it down, savoring the smooth burn for a moment before swalloing. "What do you call a romantic dalliance with a Vardaman after they're done with a graveyard shift? A morn'er." He chuckles, sitting back in his chair.

"... being an idiot is the best part." The gnome eventually opines, gathering himself back from enjoying the recalled humor. "Finding the lowest lows that make for the highest highs. The fretting and worry, apologies and forgiveness, the unknown and the impossibly familiar.

"The mystery and wonder; stumbling through blind and finding that ineffable, unattainable essence of perfection... and to take hold it with another..." he sighs and smiles with a faraway look. "Don't seek to be canny in love. It isn't a craft to master." The gnome trails off, lowering a hand he'd raised to pantomime a reaching.

And then he snaps his finger, smiling smugly as he looks askance at Cor'lana. "Saying that sort of thing usually ropes them in pretty well."

Violet's attention hovers on Jinks as his question becomes a jest of some kind. It's a moment or two where she seems a little out of her depth, and she flits a veiled glance to Aryia.

Aryia stares at Jinks. Then suddenly her journal is in her hands and she's scribbling furiously. Her apparently finding some mote of wisdom within those honeyed words. There is a glance to Violet, a light smile, and more writing in that matrix-like language.

"The smallman has the right of it," both the parents hum in tandem. Then the mother continues that thread of thought. "Despite his colorful prose, that is the gist of it."

"Well, I don't think I need help roping him in... Half-elves stick together. That's what we promised each other and I think that's how it'll be going forward." A small and genuine little smile crosses Ravenstongue's face, the blush a little more pronounced. "I'm just happy. I just don't want to screw it up."

In spite of his flippancy at the end dismissing any genuine sense of romantic notions leading up to them, Jinks seems charged after the little speech. Maybe he believes true what he's just passed off as snake oil. Maybe it's just his lather up. Either way, the gnome stands and stretches, pausing after to rescure a hanging locket with a rampant mongoose carved into it behind his vest.

"People who've made bigger mistakes than you can even imagine set their hearts right and ultimately find the purest happiness. Others make no mistakes and never find the other half of their souls in this life." A shrug. "Coyote laughs," he offers, "just be honest and have fun."

The bard makes a deep bow and then moves to collect his coat on his way to quit the balcony.

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+22: (16)+22: 38 (Bluff)

GAME: Aryia rolls sense motive: (17)+18: 35

The braided brunette turns her attention to Aryia's journal and scans the lettering there before she nods, patting the Mul'niessa's hand. it's likely the seed of a more involved conversation later, but there are a lot of factors here to quantify.

She reaches out, then to Raven and gently pats her arm with a warm smile, "I wish you both the best."

As Jinks moves to take his leave, she waves after him with a, "Good night, and be safe!"

Both the Charnese ex-nobles raise their glass as Jinks collects himself to leave. "Fair thee well," they both politely hum. The father picks up, looking to Cor'lana. "Then be happy. Be open, and communicate. Communication is key. You cannot read the other's mind."

The parents look to each other. Say nothing for a spell. "... des... pite how the two of us are, of course," they both end up saying.

Aryia offers to pay for Ravenstongue's meal if she wishes to stay, and the conversations begin as meals begin to be passed out from a previous order. The mother begins her interrogations. "So... how did you and Cor'lana meet, Aryia?"

The mute nods towards Violet, her returning the pat as she watches Jinks go with a wave of her own. She squints at him"Well, she was actually the first person I met here. I, uh, sort of went through the city and ended up way out of town..." <Handspeech>

RThe father translates verbatim, and the mother chuckles lowly. "Oh...? Do tell..."

Time to play the social dancing game again.

-End Scene-

OOC

<OOC> Jinks says, "Pothy's cat form : https://i.imgur.com/aGa8GMc.jpeg"

<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Oh my GOD XD"

<OOC> Aryia says, "XD"