Over the Moon

Tenebrae - Wednesday, January 15, 2014, 9:29 PM

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A07: The Prestigious Moon *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The wall leading out to the street is almost entirely made of windows. These gracious spaces allow passer-by to peer in and see the beautiful silk, satin, and lace that fills this shop. Mannequins line the windows, displaying the latest in Sildanyari fashion and accessories. A door to the side of the windows allows access into the brightly decorated shop, where clothes are proudly displayed along the walls and on racks where they hang with care. Towards the back are small rooms that allow shoppers to try on outfits to make sure they fit, and even a place where measurements can be taken in comfort and the most secure of privacy.

The shop is closed down for the evening. It had actually never opened. A series of padlocks lie near the door--several padlocks, padlocks upon padlocks. The shop itself is spacious yet filled. A number of mannequins model the latest in sildanyari fashion, design, with ruffles and lace and fine stitching. ...and someone has found a side chair. He looks awkward in the chair. His tail spills over to the side. His hands are in his lap, and he is desperately nodding at whatever it is Myrana is saying. A Myrana who has just rolled in a barrelfull of beer. Bless her. Bless...her.

Sandy is over doing...something. Probably prancing. Yes.

Its actually scumble. Which is like the apple version. Of braindeath. Yes.

"Apparantly," says Myrana animatedly. "It really IS some sort of perverse fashion among the idle rich! I suppose because their feet don't really do a lot, so their shoes don't get sweaty." She pushes on the wooden keg, rumpling the carpet behind her a little in her efforts to stand it on it's end. "I don't know where people come up with this stuff. Feet are not nice."

Myrana says, "Sandy, if you don't have cups, we might have to rob someone next door." Pause. "She said, in jest."

Myrana says, "Since we would never rob anyone for imbibement."

Svarshan looks down at his own, scaley toes. They're long, the knee faces the wrong way, and...he lifts one, looks at it...then looks back at Myrana solemnly. "I do not have any boots," he tells her. Even more solemnly.

Myrana visibly has to retrace her own chatter. Oh right, boots. "No I meant, delicate lady boots."

Mikilos has never let little details like a store being closed stop him. Padlocks on occasion do so, but not always then. It's the Adventurer's mindset. Just because something is behind a locked door doesn't mean it isn't for him, it just means he has to work for it. Regardless, this door isn't locked, their don't appear to be any guards, and their are people inside. So the elf just strolls in. "Ah! Greetings, salutations, hi, hello, and how ya doin?"

Svarshan looks down at his feet. Then back up. "And my feet. Are...cute," he says. Absolutely deadpan.

Svarshan looks over at Mikilos, deadpan. "Tell her. I have. Adorable...toes," he says, solemn.

Sandy is busy drinking.

Heavily.

Myrana had brought in the keg, and well, she needs to drink. A lot. This entire place existing makes her need to drink.

Paladins have no sense of humor, that expression says.

Myrana has to swallow that one rather inventively. Cute feet on a lizard? How to... how do... oh thank god, a distraction! "Mister Mithralla!" She turns on him and siezes his arm. "Do you have any cups on you?"

Svarshan follows Myrana's shift with a heartbroken expression. It is all very horrible.

Mikilos blinks.

Blinks again.

"...Svarshan has cute toes." The wizard struggles to keep a straight face, and takes off his pack, rummaging a moment. "Actually, yes, I think I've a pair of mugs in here... and a few beakers that could do in a pinch. How many do you need?"

Svarshan nods most solemnly. Yes, yes, this is the case. He stretches out, then wriggles said toes. They're horrible, of course. Horrible and scaley. He looks up though, as one of the sildan mentions having mugs.

Myrana's blue eyes slant to the side and down, drawn inexorably to the wiggly wiggly lizard toes. "Just the cups would be lovely," she says, not knowing what sort of wizardly toad-stuffing and newt-juicing has been done in the beakers. "I have a cup here with me," she adds, producing a little horn cup from her magic leather satchel. "And I'm sure Sandy has something on her."

"I'm using the only mug I have," says Sandy, firmly, to Myrana. And she is drinking copiously still. She can only deal with this when she is utterly smashed.

Mikilos carries all sorts of things in his pack. Things no sane person would ever possibally need. Things he has needed at least once before. Amoung them, a pair of quite nice dwarven steins, a simple etching of Reos upon the side. "Dare I ask what's in the cask?"

...to which, Svarshan clears his throat. Once. "Ssso how did you. Get the shop?" he asks Sandy. Still, he takes note of the exit points. The rafters on the ceiling, the location of the doors and windows. And when Mikilos asks what's in the cask, he sits up somewhat, though, well. Now that he's asked Sandy That Question, there's...some rigidity to said shoulders. Yes.

"Huh? Oh!" Myrana leans away from one of the manniquins to get a better look at Sandy. "So you do. Well then!" She refills Sandy's mug. The liquid that gurgles forth from the tap is a dark green-gold colour with thick white foam. It smells overpoweringly of sour apples and ginger. At the question, she clears her throat. "It's got apples in," she says, pleasantly.

Mikilos hesitates. That was not an answer to his question. It was quite clearly a dodge... but it does smell rather good, and there are no Oxley in sight... The elf holds out both stein for filling, ready to pass one to Svar once it contains something with apples in it.

Sandy finishe her latest mug from Myrana and informs her, "Thank you. This has been an absolute /nightmare/."

Svarshan leans forward, and inhales. He just about closes his eyes...and leans back. But can't resist peeking over towards the barrel. Then Sandy speaks up and there's a reflexive *twitch*.

Mikilos takes a tenitive sip before peering at Sandy. "Have to admit, I'm more than slightly curious about this place. So many thigns I don't quite-" The elf breaks off, blinking, and peers at one of the dresses... a very ruffled affair, with far too much lace. "...I think that's my cousin's design..."

Svarshan takes the mug from Mikilos. He nods as he does so, but otherwise doesn't say a word. He's quieter than usual today, though there's an occasional *twitch* when Sandy speaks up, or Myrana smiles a little too often. He sits on a chair to the side, looking awkward...and relieved, with a large, filled mug in his claws. In the botique, someone's brought a large barrel. Myrana and Mikilos are serving booze.

Sandy. Is ranting.

Myrana keeps filling everyone's cups, gladly getting rid of the tart scumble. It is very fizzy, and the ginger builds up over time. Eventually it feels like a low-burning fire in the belly, and the alcohol sneaks rapidly up on one. "I could help you get rid of the stock," she says, innocently.

Mikilos blinks innocently at Myrana. "I'm sure Jibbom could get rid of stock as well. Likely try to claim is a family busniess, unless he doesn't think is married this week." It varies, you know. "Anycase, before I forget, did you have any troubles down by your place with those half-paintings of dragons?"

Svarshan looks up at the words, and then over towards Sandy. He takes a hefty drink of his own mug. "...ssa," he says, cautiously. And then stands suddenly, clearing his throat. "Perhapss. There are things you. Need sseen to at the Ox?" to Myrana. GET ME OUT OF HERE, that says. He briefly shakes his head at Mikilos.

"Paintings?" says Myrana, looking at Mikilos questioningly. "What paintings? Oh--" She stands up as well when Svarshan does, having just filled her own cup. "I suppose, uh-- Of course. Just one second..." And she ducks behind a rack of dresses. A moment later she reappears, shoving her skirts down on either side of the bustle. NOT SUSPICIOUS AT ALL.

Mikilos nods, and waves vaugely. "Some odd paintings that mysteriously appeared on walls around the city. Front half of a dragon, sharply cut off, as if the rest of the painting got sliced away. Might be tied to some bandit activity, but as yet there sin't a lot of information to go on."

Svarshan follows the movement, then looks back over his shoulder towards the...what must be a rapidly-passing-out sildanyari. And then towards...

He takes a quiet, deep breath, and goes over to refill his mug on his own. And then again as Mikilos adds details.

Myrana rubs the back of her neck. "That's very odd... Well, they'd better think twice before painting something in my neighborhood, anyhow. Are you ready, Svar?" This news seems to have worried her a little and she seems eager to head home.

Svar drowns the rest of the drink, quickly. Sucks a breath, and then nods. "Should I--" he says, and he sways slightly. At the sway he pauses and grips his arm. Straightens. "Sshould I get the barrel?" Regardless, he'll do whatever's asked, and assist Myrana out the door. ...but not before looking over his shoulder. At least once.

Svarshan has left.

Myrana has left.

Mikilos waves to Svar and Myrana as they depart, and frowns mildly towards Sandy. "...you still responsive?" It's important to ask of drunks. They might not be finished drinking yet.

"...blerrrh," is Sandy's response. She has her face on the counter.

Mikilos ponders a few moments, and looks around before selecting a long skirt, dripping with far, far too much lace. Quietly, he drapes it over Sandy's shoulders, as it's the closest thing to a blanket he found in here, and heads for the door.

"What the hell are you doing?" asks Sandy, resting her head on the counter. "THis is AWFUL," she announces.

Mikilos shrugs. "Which part is awful? The oncomming hangover?" He's not that obtuse, but if he pretends to be, maybe she'll just complain and not break anything.

"The STORE!" she groans.

Mikilos ehs. "I've seen worse. Could 'Lady Sandiel's Refined Botique' or something, with a big wooden cutout of your likness in a frilly dress on the roof." It's actually not too late, the wizard could make one of those.

Glaring at Mikilos now, Sandy says, "Do not make me send you into a twisty maze of passages all alike." She growls.

Mikilos snorts softly. "You tired that once, remember? Didn't take."

GAME: Sandy casts Maze. Caster Level: 20 DC: 31

"Don't care." And then Sandy points a finger at Mikilos and utter a word or two.

GAME: Mikilos rolls intelligence: (8)+7: 15 GAME: Mikilos rolls intelligence: (9)+7: 16 GAME: Mikilos rolls intelligence: (5)+7: 12

Mikilos dissappears. It'll be a while before he's back.

Sandy feels better. "I hate elves!" she announces.

Mikilos returns before too long, though distinctly longer than last time. "...okay. Either your maze is better, or I had too much 'it has apples in it'." The elf blinks hard.

"I suspect the latter," says Sandy, dryly. She looks smug, though. "I mazed Fizzlefuse. He deserved it too."

Mikilos perks up a little. "I've no doubt. Anything specific he did, or just... being Fizzlefuse?"

"Never met him before, but I think 'Being Fizzlefuse' is probably enough," says Sandy.

Mikilos blinks. "You'd never met Fizzlefuse until recently? I'm a bit susprised, as active as you both are in the city."

"No. I've never met Fizzlefuse until now," says Sandy, irritably.

Mikilos hrmms, and shrugs. "So what's the story with this store, anyway? I've the distinct impression it wasn't your idea."

"I don't KNOW," says Sandy, loudly. "They told me it's mien and LEFT. Apparnetly, I signed off as an investor and don't remember doing it."

Mikilos quirks a brow, and frowns. "They who? Seems a nice enough store, so far as fashionable clothing stores go."

"The elves who ran the place. I apparently invested in it. Like I said." Sandy scowls.

Mikilos tsks mildly. "Which elves? Names? Surely you'd at least met them before."

"I don't remember them," says Sandy with a growl at Mikilos, "But they're on the damn paperwork. Why are you so bloody interested?"

Mikilos shrugs, and tics off some reasons on his fingers. "Suddenly owning a shop, a fairly nice one in a good location, is more than slightly suspicious. Wouldn't be the first time trouble started in a convoluted plot. I'm curious unto all things, espically fellow busniess owners. And I think a couple of these dresses are my cousins design, which makes it a family matter."