Today is of the Cycle Of The Seventh Moon.
Current Season & Month:  , Year: 543 A.R. (ref)

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The Tree & Tankard Inn


Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 746
Journey starter  
TreeandTankardInn 5

 

Spoiler
Interior of Inn
TreeandTankardInn 1

The Tree & Tankard Inn 

[Non-Elvish Welcome!]


 

Those of Elven heritage and citizens of Grayhaven have plenty of choices for accommodations in Liathildor, with a number of upscale establishments found around The Sparkling Market and The Citadel of Light.

 

For non-Elvish and non-citizens, The Tree & Tankard Inn in the Foreign Quarter is considered to be the premier establishment for travelers seeking rest and refreshment.

 

The three story establishment offers room and board at a reasonable price, with a selection of clean and comfortable rooms on the second floor, and a small number of larger, more private suites are available on the top floor.  All rooms and suites are situated along the perimeter of the building, with an open central area overlooking the main room on the bottom floor.  A wide staircase spirals up through the open section of each floor, winding all the way from the ground level up through to the private suites on the third.


 The Tree & Tankard Inn  welcomes travelers of all ilks.🍺 

TOM-CAT: A Stab in the Dark - Pounce!(1/2) - Teleskela - Kiana Beach Battle(1/2/3) - My Prey - Botched Massacre(1/2) - Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - Sparring(1/2) - Kidney Punch - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss - ☆Overwhelmed by Intimacy - Returning to Her - ★Bath Time Bonding - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories - ★Laughter & Kisses - Eros & Hormones -Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! - Cat-Tom vs. Skaven - ☆(Forced) Shift Back - 9-1 Lives - ★A Beast in the Darkness - ☆Bored Nihilism - Cat vs. Dragon - ★Emotionally Exhausted Bath - Catboy, Interrupted - All For Her - ☆Bellissimo Gato
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate(1/2) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


Quote
Wynterleaf
(@wynterleaf)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 96
 

Eddellyn Wynterleaf

[OOC: From The Central Street]

Wynterleaf found her way back to the Tree and Tankard and was pleased that the main room was relatively empty, the crowd that filled the common rooms as the day wore on had not yet begun to filter in. Overall, she was pleased with her choice of staying at the inn; she liked the atmosphere and diverse clientèle, finding the establishment more welcoming than the stuffy Elf only places she had seen nearer to the Sparkling Market.

It also helped that she liked the food they served at the Tankard. In her experience, inns often cut corners on the meals they served, charging a a premium fee for low quality fare but this place served good food for a fair price. Their hearty assortment of baked goods and fruit had quickly become her favourite, reminding her of the foods served in Aniada. 

She stepped into the interior of the inn, happy to escape the din of the streets, and inhaled deeply of the scents of ale, smoke and warm bread. Once over the threshold, she found a table across the room and near the wall, where she could sit comfortably away from everyone and allow for some privacy but also in a place to give her the advantage of watching the people who entered.

Placing her wrapped parcel on the table, she settled into the chair and stretched her legs out in front of her. As one of the elves serving the main room passed by, she caught their attention and signaled for a drink and a meal. In the short time she’d been staying at the Inn, the staff had become familiar with her and were used to her taciturn ways, so the elf merely gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement. As she waited for the food to arrive, Wynterleaf strummed her fingers idly on the tabletop and listened to the chatter of the other patrons.


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 746
Journey starter  
Spoiler
Lord Travion Winterlow
Lord Travion Winterlow(Elf Noble) 3
Spoiler
Triggerfeet (the lovely mare)
Triggerfeet (Lord Travions Mare)

 

[NPC]

Lord Travion Winterlow

Triggerfeet (the lovely mare)


[OOC: Lord Travion Winterlow & Triggerfeet From The Horse & Carriage Causeway (The Sparkling Market)]


 

Lord Travion Winterlow and his trusty steed, Triggerfeet, arrived at The Tree & Tankard Inn with no little fanfare.

 

It looked like the inn was experiencing a lull in activity, with only a few horses tied out front and only a pair of curious palominos in the stables, the latter of which stuck their heads out of their stalls with their ears perked as he and Triggerfeet walked up.  He thought about putting Triggerfeet up securely in the stables for a few hours, but ultimately decided against it.

 

 He liked to keep an eye on his pretty girl, although deep down he knew that anyone bold enough to actually steal from the nobles of the Kingdom Bridgeways, didn't have long left in this Worlde, anyway.  Still, Travion would rather avoid the hassle of having to contract out a court assassin, or - Lothar forbid - having to get the Mystics involved for something as boring as thievery.

 

All the same...

 

The Elf Lord dismounted from the mare and clicked his tongue, bidding her to stay still for a moment.  He walked around to the small saddlebag he used for casual outings to the city, snagging the tip of his right glove between his teeth as he did so  and tasting leather and dirt as he tugged it off.  He did the same with the left, but as he was doing so he surreptitiously slipped off the heavy gold signet ring he wore on his right hand.  He smoothly palmed the ring, hiding it away before anyone could glimpse either the deep red ruby set into its center, or the district image of the Winterlow Family crest etched onto its surface. 

 

He slipped off the lightweight riding cloak, crimson edged in silver with a stripe of gold around the neck, which indicated the Winterlow House colors.  This he folded and stuffed into the saddlebag along with his gloves, leaving him in a lightly padded and fitted gambeson-style shirt.  It was  well-crafted, the finely spun Elvish cotton dyed a soft lavender color which strongly brought out the green in his hazel eyes. A narrow panel of brown suede with dark brown leather cross-stitching ran down the front from collar to hem, with the same detailing at each cuff.

 

Aside from the fine make of the shirt, nothing else Travion wore was so exceedingly ostentatious as to immediately scream of his privilege or birthright.  The wide belt cinched around his lean waist was made of smooth leather, finely crafted yet understated.  Same went for his pants, money pouch, and boots, the latter of which were a pair of riding boots he loved because of how well broken-in they were. 

 

Even so, the young Lord Winterlow cut an elegant figure, which perhaps spoke more of his noble bearing than anything else.  

 

Nonetheless, Travion was satisfied enough that he wouldn't stick out too much. He quickly set to finishing up getting his horse in order.  He ran up the stirrups in short order and loosened the girth a bit for the mare's comfort.  As he did so, he discreetly tucked the heavy gold signet ring into a secret pocket sewn into the underside of the left saddle flap.  He didn't need to use a bit-bridle with Triggerfeet and would pay one of stablehands to bring her some water and feed, while he watered and fed himself inside.

 

Thus satisfied, Travion brushed back Trigger's forelock and whispered a few words to her in Elvish.  The mare snorted, shook her head, and then plodded over on her own to stand near the other waiting horses.  He didn't bother to secure her in any way, yet was fully confident that she would be right where he left her come the end of the night.

 

With that, Lord Travion Winterlow pushed open the door to The Tree & Tankard and entered.  

 

Spoiler
[OOC: Sorry for this long, nothing post...]
Feel free to ignore it - seriously, it doesn't add much/or really add anything terribly important.  It's word vomit... 

OK fine -I just like Triggerfeet. 😏

TOM-CAT: A Stab in the Dark - Pounce!(1/2) - Teleskela - Kiana Beach Battle(1/2/3) - My Prey - Botched Massacre(1/2) - Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - Sparring(1/2) - Kidney Punch - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss - ☆Overwhelmed by Intimacy - Returning to Her - ★Bath Time Bonding - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories - ★Laughter & Kisses - Eros & Hormones -Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! - Cat-Tom vs. Skaven - ☆(Forced) Shift Back - 9-1 Lives - ★A Beast in the Darkness - ☆Bored Nihilism - Cat vs. Dragon - ★Emotionally Exhausted Bath - Catboy, Interrupted - All For Her - ☆Bellissimo Gato
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate(1/2) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 746
Journey starter  
Spoiler
Lord Travion Winterlow
Lord Travion Winterlow(Elf Noble) 3

 

[NPC]

Lord Travion Winterlow

[LPC] Alred (Kilwaan bartender)


[OOC: From the outside - Sorry for the double post!]

 

Travion made a quick sweep of the main room, noting with some satisfaction and a little disappointment, that the tavern was as sparsely patronised as he'd assumed.  While it meant that he would be able to enjoy a drink and repast in peace, part of him did enjoy speaking with all manner of colorful folk that he sometimes met there.  

He paused briefly on the petite figure of an Elf seated at one of the back tables, noting her fall of glossy black hair and Elvish features that were all at once familiar and foreign to him.  There was a sort of restrained, quiet gravity in the relaxed, yet loose press of her lips that only enhanced her overall prettiness in a way that Travion hadn't considered before then.  

 

He let his eyes sweep briefly over her,  then moved on so as not to appear rude.  The young Elf Lord was raised better than that, and he certainly wouldn't be caught staring at a lady like some ill-bred lecher.  Still, there was something about her that was intensely interesting to him.  Perhaps it was something in her exceedingly serious, pretty face that stirred him, although he couldn't yet say what it was, exactly.    

 

Travion moved lightly to the bar, a pleasant expression settled naturally on his handsome face as he nodded to the bartender in greeting. The Elf Lord knew this one, a sturdily built Kilwaan with an easy smile, who always bore an unassuming, albeit thoughtful, expression.  "Alred, how goes it?" Travion greeted, with a small, though genuine smile. The corners of his smile never wavered as he looked directly into Alred's warm brown eyes, and gave him a meaningful look as he furtively pushed a single coin across the polished bartop.  

 

Alred didn't glance down once, though, as soon as Lord Winterlow lifted his palm, the coin was snatched up and secreted away with such alacrity, it was as if it had disappeared by magick.  He knew it was a gold Mark by the coin's size and heft, alone.  The corners of Alred's eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled in kind, no outward acknowledgment in his expression, past a discerning glint in his eye.  "It 'goes' just fine, sir," he said in an amused tone.  "Would you like me to make you the usual?  Or would you like to try one of our foreign imports? We just received a bottle of an unusual, clover-scented liquor called Nikur, hailing all the way from Gning Nar - don't ask me where it's from, past that." Alred winked affably.  "The farthest I've been is Chalice Surf, and not through any fault of my own!" He grinned and absently ran his fingers through his short, copper-red hair.

 

The almost imperceptible thread of tension that had unknowingly been winding through him lifted suddenly, and Travion let out a shallow breath as the faint rigidness in his shoulders eased.  He knew he'd liked Alred for a good reason, and was relieved that the bartender had understood Travion's wish for discretion; he could trust him to not use titles or draw attention with an overabundance of formality.  His mood was instantly buoyed.  The young Lord Winterlow laughed throatily at Alred's words, the rich sound carrying throughout the low buzz of the inn.  His hazel eyes gleamed with interest as he mulled over what he wanted to drink. 

 

"Nikur, eh?" he mused offhandedly.  He let his gaze roam over the wide variety of differently shaped bottles which ranged across the wall behind the bar, all neatly stacked and arranged on a series of vertical shelves.  "Sounds interesting. Have you tasted it?" he asked, not looking at Alred as he now studied the colorful labels of random bottles that caught his eye. 

 

Alred tipped his chin down as thoughtfully, before he answered. He issued a small, noncommittal sound. "When we received the Nikur, Brio, Gael, two of the barmaids (Elleana and Meara), and I, shared about two glasses between us," he admitted.  Alred reached beneath the bar and produced a shot glass, which he flipped over onto the bartop with a flourish.  He turned away for a moment to scan the bottles on the wall behind him and continued speaking.  "The consensus? It's quite tasty! Sweet, without the cloying sweetness of an after dinner liqueur. As smooth as its amber color going down, with a pleasant warmth after just a sip.  Dangerous stuff, to be honest; I guarantee after one glass you'll– Ah-ha!" Alred exclaimed suddenly, cutting off whatever he'd been about to say. His nimble fingers plucked a corked, opaque, green glass bottle off one of the shelves. Travion watched with interest as Alred spun back around to the bar and briefly presented the bottle to him. 

 

The bottle had a wide, rounded base that tapered up into a narrow neck long enough to grip in one hand.  A thin, delicate chain encircled the bottle's neck, from which hung an oval and slightly concave, hammered silver disc serving as its label.  He read: ~Nikur~ etched in fancy script, and below that, 543 AR, Moneth of Flower Moon.  Etched in small, neat lettering along the curve of the disc's bottom edge, read: 'AN EXPORT OF GNING NAR'.  

 

Once Travion had read the label and nodded, Alred swiftly uncorked the bottle, and, with a practiced, easy motion, poured a deep amber colored liquid into the shot glass.  He replaced the stopper, set down the green bottle, and pushed the glass of Nikur towards Travion with two fingers. 

 

"On the house," he said with a small nod and gesture. Alred glanced around the inn's common room, surprised to see that while he'd been chatting with Lord Travion, the main room had pretty much emptied out, save for a dark-haired, foreign Elf lass sitting towards the back. Judging the stranger to have no recognition of the Elf Lord standing at the bar, the Kilwaan felt it safe to call out to her in a genuine, friendly voice. 

 

"Hail stranger!" Alred greeted, smiling without intention or guile at Wynterleaf.  "I'm offering a drink on the house - well, a taste of a drink; a delicious liquor, imported all the way from GningNar." He chuckled.  "Consider it a token of appreciation for your patronage.

 

He figured he would make the offer in this rare circumstance where he could actually afford to do so. The dinner rush would come through before they knew it, and Alred wouldn’t to dare offer,  'Drinks on the house!' in a full room.  That would pretty much be asking for drunken belligerence and practically inviting a fight to break out.

 

In fact, since the main room was so empty, Alred felt like having a little fun and indulging a little in his bartending showmanship.  He almost never got to do so...and what was the point in learning the fancier side of drink pouring, if you couldn't flaunt your skills once in a while?

 

Alred abruptly produced another shot glass from seemingly nowhere, and with a practiced flourish, he set it down atop the bar.  Wordlessly, he picked up the green bottle and then flipped it suddenly into the air.  He caught it behind his back without looking, and in one smooth motion brought the bottle around to his front and uncorked it with a twirl.  He tipped the bottle with a twist of his wrist as he gave a perfect pour of the dark amber Nikur, into the glass. He replaced the cork with much less fanfare, but bore a pleased expression,  nonetheless. Alred wasn't the inn's best bartender for nothing; sometimes it felt good to show off - just a bit.  He gestured to the glass and looked to Wynterleaf with another smile. 

 

"On the house," he repeated.

 

Travion was amused - Alred certainly didn't try to entertain him like that.  He held off drinking his own Nikur, and instead turned to the pretty, solemn Elf that had earlier caught his attention.   His smile was easy, yet open and honest in its friendliness.  He too gestured to the waiting glass.

 

"Will milady join me, if only briefly, to try this mysterious, Nikur?" He took a sniff of his own glass.  "Tis an interesting clove-scent."  Travion shrugged to show that there was no expectation or pressure.  "If milady doesn't care for the drink, I will buy you one of your choice to make up for the incursion on your privacy and time."

 

He smiled again, then turned back to the bar as to not come on too strong. 

 

Spoiler
[OOC: Again,  I'm sorry for the double post and the their length!]
[I don't know why my NPC is so prolific,  lol.  I have half a Daeth post written, so I'll get that going (finally).]

TOM-CAT: A Stab in the Dark - Pounce!(1/2) - Teleskela - Kiana Beach Battle(1/2/3) - My Prey - Botched Massacre(1/2) - Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - Sparring(1/2) - Kidney Punch - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss - ☆Overwhelmed by Intimacy - Returning to Her - ★Bath Time Bonding - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories - ★Laughter & Kisses - Eros & Hormones -Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! - Cat-Tom vs. Skaven - ☆(Forced) Shift Back - 9-1 Lives - ★A Beast in the Darkness - ☆Bored Nihilism - Cat vs. Dragon - ★Emotionally Exhausted Bath - Catboy, Interrupted - All For Her - ☆Bellissimo Gato
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate(1/2) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Wynterleaf
(@wynterleaf)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 96
 

The creak of the front door drew Wynterleaf’s attention and she openly studied the Elf who entered the Inn. He was dressed simply in clean clothes, there was nothing to his appearance to give hint of his occupation nor did he have the worn look of a traveler. His confident bearing suggested that he was more used to giving orders than taking them and combined with the fact that his apparel appeared well made, her evaluation was that he didn’t have to work for a living and likely of belonged to one of the noble houses of Liathildor. Perhaps a younger son, free to do with his days as he saw fit.

Eddellyn had the brief notion that she might be able to glean some intel about the noble families in the surrounding area from him but a second examination of his - admittedly, handsome - face, she discarded the idea. There was something open and frank about his expression that suggested he wasn't given to gossip or intrigue of political alliances. At best he would provide her a matter-of-the-fact recitation of the households and their occupants but nothing that she couldn’t learn from anyone. She was more interested in the information that was found behind closed doors. Even given his relaxed mien, she felt that he wasn’t as naïve as he presented and any subtly placed query on her part about the security of the estates would draw his suspicions. Best to leave that train of thought alone for the moment. She had the feeling her best course would be to quiz the servants of the estates, even loyal help could be swayed with the right incentive.

With no interest of listening to the Elf’s conversation with the barkeep, her attention turned again to the parcel before her on the table and she wondered how much coin she could get from selling the gown. Despite the obvious craftsmanship and the proud flair that M Chemaux had presented it to her, the garment really served no purpose on the road but it could help put a bit more coin back into her pocket with its’ sale. The longer she could go without having to resort to gaining coin from illicit or other means, the better.

Her ruminations were broken by the barkeep drawing her attention with a friendly shout and the offer of a free drink. She had not interacted much with the fellow during her stay thus far but she guessed this offer was out of the norm. Given the usual evening occupants of the Inn, it didn’t seem it would be wise business practice to offer anything free, particularly considering the quantities that crowd consumed. 

Wynterleaf watched as he made a production of pouring a glass of the imported liqueur, suppressing the need to snort in derision. She admitted to herself that his excellent presentation was probably lost on most of his patrons but if his aim was to impress her, he would have done well to pour out the drink in the straight-forward manner he did for the lord. Which, speaking of, she saw that he was also smiling in her direction and extended the invite to join him as well. With no hope of escaping their polite interest easily, Eddellyn steeled herself with a deep breath and made a sound of agreement, before she slid from the seat with the grace and ease of movement of someone well used to moving on silent feet.

The Elf lord had turned back to the barkeep and presented his back to her, so she approached on his right, sidling up to the counter next to him but maintaining an arm’s length space between them.

She met Alred’s watchful gaze with her own and tempered her thanks with the slight tilt of her lips in a smile. “My thanks, kind sir. I’ve not been to GningNar myself or had a chance to try Nikur, so appreciate the gesture. If it is as good as the everything else served in this establishment, I'm certain I will not regret it.” 

Eddellyn angled her position toward the Elf lord, not missing the fact that hadn’t yet tasted his drink. Unwilling to down hers first, she grasped the small shot glass between her forefinger and thumb and toasted in the Elvish tongue, “To good company, with whom no evening is long!


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Wynterleaf
(@wynterleaf)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 96
 

The toast hung awkwardly a moment before Wynterleaf tipped her head back and tossed down the alcohol. The slow burn as it raced down her throat was not unpleasant but as the warmth settled in her belly, the fumes tickled the back of her throat and her nose started to twitch. There was only seconds warning, enough to cover her face with the back of her arm before she sneezed the sound muffled in her shirt.

My pardon!” she exclaimed.

Her nose twitched again and she judiciously took a step away from the counter with only enough time to stop another sneeze in her elbow. She blinked and shook her head as if to clear it. Her eyes smarted and she took another half-step, part stumble, in the direction of the Elven lord and clumsily bumped into his side. Her hand reached out to grasp at his arm, losing purchase and brushing along his side until her fingers found purchase on the wide leather belt cinching his waist. She lurched close to the Elf, her form pressed against his side as she sought to regain equilibrium.

The scent of trees and smoke and horse filled her senses as she pressed her forehead into his muscular bicep and inhaled deeply of the smell, hoping to erase the spicy clove fumes that filled her head from the liquor. The scent that clung to his clothing only reinforced her theory the elf was less used to sitting rooms and salons and more of the outdoorsy type. Perhaps a bit out of character for someone of her standoffish demeanor, she was in no hurry to release the lord and instead lingered by his side, ostensibly for balance.

My apologies, I’m not so certain my body agrees with the Nikur. If you allow me just a moment,” she whispered with an alcohol-tinged breath. It was in part true, she did want a moment or two to extend her contact with the Elf lord, the drink only warming her blood but nothing more. In truth, she was well used to strong drink, having participated in a drinking contest or two with her crew but pretending otherwise suited her motivations.

Wynterleaf tilted her head to stare up into the elf’s face, though she wasn’t one to smile coyly, she did widen her eyes and practiced her best guileless look.

Sir..,” she began to say something but the server returned from the kitchen just then with her plate of food and he started toward her but she pointed her chin in the direction of the table, indicating that he should place it there. She released her grip on the elf and straightened, her left hand smoothing over her tunic and settling at her waist.

A bit of food might settle me.” Eddellyn glanced toward her table, confirming her package and cloak were untouched, the server had set the plate away from the items. To the Elf she said, “Please feel free to join me if you wish but I think I will stick to ale for a drink.


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 746
Journey starter  

[NPC]

Lord Travion Winterlow

═ ✽ ═ 

Spoiler
Lord Travion & Triggerfeet
Lord Travion Winterlow(Elf Noble) 3
Triggerfeet (Lord Travions Mare)

═ ✽ ═ 

Now Travion might not be the type of noble who loved playing games of intrigue or engage in a duel of words (not like the Syltamuls, at least), but it didn’t mean he wasn’t canny.  And he’d sell Triggerfeet’s left hoof to the next person who asked, if he hadn’t just been pickpocketed.  Or had his coin purse rifled through, at least.  Still, as she pressed against him, putting on a tremendous performance of needing him for balance (or so it seemed) he found himself more...amused, than angry.  After all, she did fit nicely against his side and he appreciated the litheness of her body.  She was one used to a life of action, it seemed, and that was about as far from the pliable softness of the courtesans that could usually be found hanging around him and his friends, with their vapid conversations and pretty, if empty words.

 

The more Travion thought about it, the more he liked this woman’s measure - even if she had stolen from him, her “stumble” into him was a fair exchange, in his opinion. 

 

As the lass smiled at him, the terseness of her mouth a bit looser than before, the young Lord Winterlow downed his own drink and abruptly decided he agreed with her assessment of Nikur.  He coughed, slamming down the shot glass as he looked at Alred almost accusingly.  

 

Alred,” he sputtered, placing both palms flat against the bartop.  “That was truly awful.  I think you and your friends must’ve killed off some brain cells when you drank it.”  He grinned to show there was no real bite to his words.  “Or else you poured the Lady and I the wrong drink.”  He winked at the bartender, leaning forward conspiratorially.   “What is that fizzy, raspberry sour ale I like?” he asked, scanning the wall behind the bar.  The Aa’rdky Elf gave a wry twist of his lips before fetching a bottle from underneath the bar, deftly uncorking it with a distinct Pop! 

 

It’s called Lambic, sir,” he answered drily.  Alred retrieved brandy snifters and gave them a quick wipe before pushing them both towards Lord Winterlow.  “And I assure you, the lady will like this one.”  He gave a quick wink, carefully sweeping up the coins that Travion pushed across the bar.  He raised a delicate eyebrow at the amount.  “Sir?” he asked.

 

Keep it coming, Alred,” said Travion, with a quick twist of his lips.  “And please have one of the serving lasses bring some fresh strawberries and creme to the table.” For the first time, he indicated the table to which Wynterleaf had retreated, with a slight tilt of his head.  “Discretion, please.”  He slid over another couple of gold coins, noting as his fingers dug through his coin pouch that nothing seemed to be missing.  Hmm, what an interesting woman.

 

Rapping his knuckles on the bartop, Travion picked up the two glasses and the bottle of Lambic, and made his way over to Wynterleaf’s table.  When he caught her eye he gave her an elaborate, obviously joking bow and gestured to the empty.  “Is this seat taken, m’lady?” he asked, his grin warm and genuine.  He dropped into the seat without waiting for an answer, placing one of the two glasses before her.

 

Please allow me to make up for that Loth-blessed, Nikur!The handsome Elf spoke the name of the Drow God with a slight sneer, his lip curling ever-so-slightly.  “If this doesn’t make your fancy, then I’ll sell you Triggerfeet, myself!” he exclaimed, before realizing that she would have no idea who or what a ‘Triggerfeet’ was.  He blushed a little, a ruddy glow climbing up his neck.  He rubbed a palm across the back of his neck, looking down in mild embarrassment.  “Err,” he cleared his throat.  “Ah, Triggerfeet is, my, uh, my horse,” he finished quickly.  He was just waiting for her to burst into laughter at his girl’s name, which was something the young Lord Winterlow truly hated.  So what if his mare had an unconventional name? It was appropriate! He rushed to fill the scant silence that’d fallen with an explanation.  “She’s a really great mare, y’see?” he said earnestly, looking into Eddellyn’s grey eyes almost pleadingly.  “Very unique color and fast as a jackrabbit - faster, even!” he said proudly.  Unbeknownst to him, as Travion spoke about his beloved horse, his speech lost some of its stilted formality.

 

Travion scowled to himself, before he sighed. “Sorry,” he said, giving her a faint grin.  “It’s just...you don’t think her name is stupid, do you?”  It was hard to say if the young Lord was asking her or truly asking himself.  Either way, he poured them each a glass of Lambic.  He clinked his glass to hers, raising it.  “A proper toast and introduction.  My manners are apparently sorely lacking today.  Please call me Travion, though I’ll also answer to Trav.”  Only his friends called him Trav, but  for some reason, Travion wanted to hear his nickname on her lips.  “And how may I address you, nin bein hiril?

 


[Translationnin bein hiril = “my pretty lady”

 

Spoiler
[OOC: I hope I haven't lost you!]
@wynterleaf - Please forgive how long it took for my reply! I hope you're still willing to collab because we're going to get things moving on this end of things and I'd definitely love to have your creative input and help!

TOM-CAT: A Stab in the Dark - Pounce!(1/2) - Teleskela - Kiana Beach Battle(1/2/3) - My Prey - Botched Massacre(1/2) - Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - Sparring(1/2) - Kidney Punch - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss - ☆Overwhelmed by Intimacy - Returning to Her - ★Bath Time Bonding - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories - ★Laughter & Kisses - Eros & Hormones -Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! - Cat-Tom vs. Skaven - ☆(Forced) Shift Back - 9-1 Lives - ★A Beast in the Darkness - ☆Bored Nihilism - Cat vs. Dragon - ★Emotionally Exhausted Bath - Catboy, Interrupted - All For Her - ☆Bellissimo Gato
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate(1/2) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Wynterleaf
(@wynterleaf)
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Eddellyn took a few bites of the flavorful stew made from root vegetables, not truly expecting the elf lord to accept her invitation to join her at the table. Her clumsy maneuver to appear as if she were picking his pocket was lifted directly from page one of the beginner’s guide to thievery, an act so blatantly obvious that she doubted it ever worked for anyone. Curious to know more about the person who would willingly join her company after that display, she pushed the stew aside and gave him her full attention. 

Travion, ‘tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she returned his toast by lifting her glass but did not sample the contents just yet. The Nikur hadn’t been terrible but she wanted to allow a moment before sampling something else new. 

Most of all my acquaintances call me by Wynterleaf.” As she had with everyone in recent years, she introduced herself using her adopted last name, no longer comfortable hearing her real name on anyone’s lips. 

Her lips still in a half-smile, she turned over his words about his mare in her mind, his devotion to the animal was obvious and a good indication of his disposition that he cared so much about his horse. That he was defensive over the name amused her, it seemed to be a tender point of interest to him and likely one that he had been ribbed about in the past. 

Seeking to reassure him, she said, “Triggerfeet sounds like an excellent name for a fast horse. Much more suitable than a name like Belinda, I should say. Which, I will tell you, I once met a farmer who had named his plow horse such. I had the impression the horse was named for someone that he knew… though I never found out if it was someone he liked or disliked.” She laughed, the sound low and short, and gave him a wink.

Eddellyn propped her elbows on the edge of the table and rested her chin on her fist, as she examined Travion’s face carefully. He was good looking and earnest, and had the youthful look that tended to stay with elves throughout their long lives. While his manner was carefree she expected that was only in part true, for no one was ever truly untroubled, and he had an agreeable manner about himself that Eddellyn found she appreciated, particularly after months of navigating subterfuge and intrigue on the long journey since Kiana. 

She reached for the glass of fizzy ale that he’d poured for her and took a careful drink, finding the taste much more to her liking than the heady liquor. Setting the glass down, she kept her hand curled around the glass and considered how long it would take for Travion to take note of the brand. After her blatant attempt to rifle his pockets, it would be clear that she was in some part deserving of the label 'pickpocket' and she wondered what his reaction would be if she told him that her conviction had actually come about from stealing a horse. Not that she would steal his horse, one that that was clearly cherished by its’ owner; her inclination led more to take things that went unnoticed or undeserved by those in possession of them. Besides which, she had already decided she rather liked the elf, a sentiment that she wasn't often given to experiencing these days, and found his affection for his steed rather charming. 

If I may be so bold to ask, Travion, what can you share about the the noble families in Liathlidor and the surrounding areas?” she questioned. “If it wasn't evident by my appearance, I’m only recently arrived in Ufaeria. It's been quite a few years since I was last here and I'm no longer uncertain which families hold influence.

Perhaps she could fish for information from the handsome elf regarding her mission in the area, anything to gain a bit more insight into how to find the Greyhaven mystics and their supporters. “I only know as much as I’ve heard on the tongues of gossips, which mostly holds that anything worth talking about ripples outward from the Syltamul Estate.” Eddellyn shrugged a shoulder and took another sip of the ale. “I will admit the name is  unknown to me, other than they have an estate in the Kingdom of Bridgeways. Are you familiar with the area?


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
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Lord Travion Winterlow 

   &

Lord Coel Montachade

Spoiler
Lord Travion
Lord Travion Winterlow(Elf Noble) 3

Spoiler
Lord Coel

Lord Coel Montechade(Elf Noble)

Wynterleaf,” Travin pronounced, refilling and raising his glass once more.  “Lovely Wynterleaf, my night is much richer for your company.” He sipped the Lambic and grinned at her over the rim of his glass.  He nearly choked on the drink, however, when she mentioned the name ‘Belinda’ as a name she’d once heard a poor mare called.  He pulled a somewhat exaggerated expression of distaste, hoping to coax a laugh out of her, though, instead found himself laughing at her wry sense of humor.  His laugh was rich and genuine, the sound like the merry bubbling of a brook over smooth, wet stones.  Indeed, he found himself a bit smitten by her straightforward manner and she was not short on intrigue if the tattoo marking the back of her hand was anything to go by.

 

He’s also man enough to admit that he was relieved at her response regarding Triggerfeet - he really did love that mare.  However, as she began asking about the various noble houses in Liathlidor, he did take a moment to reassess her.  He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand as he studied her, really letting his gaze take in the finer details.  He was quite certain that she’d already clocked him as one of the Nobles of the Kingdom Bridgeways, but not which noble house he belonged to.  It was clear that she was asking in earnest, too, which put him more at ease.  She wasn’t a secret plant from one of the other Noble houses, that much was certain - her mannerisms alone screamed that she was a foreigner to these lands.  

 

Travion was deciding how much he should tell her as she finished up her request, when he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye.  Damn-it, what is he doing here?

 

Making a split second decision, he pulled closer to Wynterleaf and slipped a hand around her waist.  He leaned in and spoke low and urgently near her ear.  “I’m sorry for this,” he muttered, hastily albeit sincerely.  “Whatever you hear, don’t think too ill of all of us Bridgeway Nobles.” He gave her a quick wink, hoping she’d understand the implication behind his words: I know that you know that I’m one of the Nobles you’re asking about.  Before he could say anything further, a voice cut across his words. 

 

Why my dear lady,” came a smooth, mocking voice.  “Don’t you know that you are in quite the enviable position? Many women would kill to be ensconced next to one of the most eligible bachelors in Liathlidor, the young Lord Travion of the Noble House Winterlow.”  The owner of the voice slid into one of the empty seats at the table, and smiled at both Travion and Wynterleaf with a beautiful, although insincere smile.

 

Coel,greeted Travion with undisguised distaste.  “What are you doing in the Foreign Quarter, m’lord?” he asked, baring his teeth in a shadow of a grin.  “You wouldn’t want the gossips to think you’re slumming it, now would you?” The points of his smile sharpened, until it resembled something that promised to take the blonde Elf apart piece by piece, depending on his answer.  Coel feigned offense, though his sapphire eyes sparkled dangerously.  He swept back his long, white-blonde hair and nodded towards Wynterleaf.

 

Aren’t you going to introduce me to your,” he paused, giving the grey-eyed Elfess a haughty once-over, in a manner that was not-so-subtly judgemental.  “To your foreign lady-friend?” Coel’s smile was cold.  

 

Travion grimaced at his fellow Noble’s xenophobic tone.  He sincerely hoped that Wynterleaf didn’t think that all of the Bridgeway nobles were like this.  He applied slight pressure to her waist with the tips of his fingers, hopefully in a reassuring manner.  He gave her a strained smile, before cutting his eyes back to Coel.  He gestured with his free hand.  

 

I will leave the lovely lady to introduce herself,” he said tersely.  He took her free hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, then left his hand over hers, covering the tattoo.  He nodded to the blonde Elf Lord.  “May I introduce Lord Coel of the Noble House Montachade.”  At the quirk of Coel’s lips, Travion felt himself bristle and he added, impulsively: “And she is not simply a foreign friend,” he said, somewhat smugly.  “She is, in fact, my date to the Syltamul’s ball.

 

Travion immediately looked sideways at Wynterleaf, hoping she’d play along.

Coel looked a bit like a cat who got the canary.  “Oh, is that so?” He gave a simpering smile to the Elfess.  “Well then, as Travion is known for never bringing a date to any of these engagements, I should think you’re quite a special friend.  And any special friend of Lord Winterlow’s, is a special friend of mine.”  He fixed her with his piercing gaze. “What say you, my lady? What exactly would you like to know about the Syltamul’s and the Bridgeway Nobles?

 

TOM-CAT: A Stab in the Dark - Pounce!(1/2) - Teleskela - Kiana Beach Battle(1/2/3) - My Prey - Botched Massacre(1/2) - Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - Sparring(1/2) - Kidney Punch - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss - ☆Overwhelmed by Intimacy - Returning to Her - ★Bath Time Bonding - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories - ★Laughter & Kisses - Eros & Hormones -Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! - Cat-Tom vs. Skaven - ☆(Forced) Shift Back - 9-1 Lives - ★A Beast in the Darkness - ☆Bored Nihilism - Cat vs. Dragon - ★Emotionally Exhausted Bath - Catboy, Interrupted - All For Her - ☆Bellissimo Gato
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate(1/2) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Wynterleaf
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It was with some effort of will that Eddellyn didn’t physically react to Travion placing his hand on her waist and crowding into her personal space. She had to concede that this was no more than what she did earlier when she had pressed her body against the other elf and rifled his coin purse. That he used the word “us”, including himself in with the Bridgeways Nobles gave her pause to study him critically once more. She had guessed he was maybe a noble in a lesser house, living in the city itself, but hadn't any considered he might be intimately familiar with the subject of her questioning of only moments ago. There was no time to pursue that line of thought however, as a voice cut through the tavern, and while the tone itself was smooth and cultured, Eddellyn found the words grating, her guard instantly up. 

 

Her back ramrod straight, she only shifted so much as her eyes toward the speaker and saw that it was another elf, dressed in the elegant attire reflecting wealth. To her eye, the newcomer was more beautiful than handsome, his ultra pale hair giving him an otherworldly appearance, the rich gemstone color of his eyes only reinforcing the perception. 

 

Without invitation, the elf joined them at the table and while his words were addressed to her, she felt the remarks were meant more for Travion’s benefit. It was apparent that the noble all but dismissed her person from his mind, apparently he'd deemed her unworthy of his attention, and only spoke to her at all out of interest of baiting Travion. There was a history here between the two, a rivalry or jealousy perhaps? 

 

She listened silently to the thinly veiled barbs the two elven lords tossed at one another, only reacting at last when Travion lifted her hand for a kiss. Ah, so this was the direction he want to go, he didn't know he'd be otherwise risking her dagger in his side but she had to admire his bold and impromptu move, so was willing to go along with him. At least until she had settled on the price she was going to extract for his presumption. 

 

Eddellyn angled her face toward Travion, staring avidly into his face doing her best to strive for an expression of infatuation but was certain the promise of retribution reflected in her eyes. Keeping her hand curled within his, she inclined her head toward Coel and said in low tones, “My name is Winterleaf and you are indeed correct in your assessment that I’m not from here.” 

 

I found myself with the means to travel and with a desire to tour the lovely homeland of the Elves and only recently made my way into Liathlidor. Unfortunately, the entire endeavor has been rather dreadful, or at least it was until running into Trav.” She used the shortened form of his name deliberately, her tone a bit softer again as she said his name. 

 

Her eyes drifted to the window unfocused, pretending to be lost in a memory, and it was a few seconds later that she said, with a small curve to her mouth, “We rather hit it off quite well, I would say. The next thing I know, we’re to attend a ball together and though I will say I didn’t quite grasp what a special honor it is to be attending with the most eligible bachelor in Liathlidor?“ Eddellyn repeated Coel's words with emphasis as she shot Travion a look, one dark brow arched in question, a chuckle on her lips. “Truly?” her tone was heavy with doubt but also good humor.

 

Recalling herself, she schooled her features once more, and said with a tiny shrug, “It’s all been rather sudden.

 

All of her words were technically true, even if the timeline was fuzzier and a lot more compressed than she made it out to be. “In fact, it was only today that I’ve picked up my gown for the ball.” She nodded toward the wrapped parcel still sitting on the table and shot Travion a glance, “It’s dark blue, by the way; in case you’d like to wear complementary colors.” 

 

I will admit I know little about the Bridgeways Nobles or the Syltamuls. Trav and I have not spoken much about them, having been preoccupied with other things…” Eddellyn gave Travion a look from beneath her lashes to make the words seem more suggestive than they were but didn’t otherwise simper or giggle, even with her pretense she couldn’t bring herself to do so. “Is it true that the Syltamuls know everyone? Are they close friends of yours?” she directed the last part of the question to Coel. 

 


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NoOne
(@noone)
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Travion had bored of Coel before that simpering blond viper had entered the Tankard. Wynterleaf gave him the perfect opening to disengage, and score a graceless point while doing so. 

"Truly?" At the young lady's inquiry, Travion lifted a hand and directed his gaze evenly at Coel. "People say what they will." He loaded the word with as much disdain as dismissivity. He hid his smile at the viscious riposte behind a healthy pull of the Lambic, toasting his own insult and watching Coel seethe. 

Seething, for the perfectly-coiffed noble, being the slightest twitch of an eyebrow. Yep, there it was. And now for the coup de grace, for which he must needs rely on his new acquaintence. "Of course you know I do." He replied to Wynterleaf's comments on the color of her gown and matching his own outfit, as he rose from his seat. "Oh, the junior lord Montachade isn't close friends with anyone, isn't that right, old boy?" Stepping past the seated young lord as he spoke for him, Travion tapped Coel's back with two friendly fingers. 

It might as well have been a slap. 

"Now, regretfully, we must make haste if I'm to have my suit ready on the morrow." The noble inclined his head ever-so-slightly to his peer. "So we must bid you adeu, my friend." Travion hoped Wynterleaf would abandon her inquiries and follow him. He could think of no better insult, at the moment, than to leave the lord Montachade alone at the table with two half-empty glasses of Lambent. 


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Wynterleaf
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Wynterleaf took a sip of the Lambic, enjoying the tart aftertaste, and watched the silent byplay between the two elven nobles, the tension thick between them. Neither seemed eager to respond to her query, which was a pity, she felt that being forewarned was forearmed about what to expect on the Syltamul estate but she was used to working at a disadvantage. Though, if Travion was serious in his impromptu invite to the masquerade, she could press him for details and perhaps even see how much he knew about the Mystics of Greyhaven. She had been determined to avoid having to attend the masquerade unless absolutely necessary, having no desire to dress in a gown and soclialise. But she couldn't deny that the invitation provided an easier means onto the estate.

At last, Travion spoke in a scathing tone as he addressed the other elf and there was no mistaking his feelings for the newcomer and if she was being truthful, the attitude was warranted judging by her initial impression of the lord. She herself had little interest in spending more time in the other noble's company, even to trade insults, so was happy to join Travion as he stood.

She deliberately slid her hand, palm up, careful to keep her brand obscured only as that seemed important to Travion, under the package that still sat atop the table and settled it into the crook of her arm. Easing from the chair, she paused long enough to say, “My apologies, my lord. We must needs hurry if we are to be prepared in time for the masque.

On her way out, she made a point of tipping Alred a couple of gold krownes and a brief word asking if he would see her dress delivered up to her room. After the promise of having one of the maids run the package up, she handed it over and joined Travion at the exit. 

OOC: To the outside

Spoiler
OOC:
Apologies for the short & disjointed post, writers/creative block is a tangible thing right now


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NoOne
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Travion

To: Outside.


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Wynterleaf
(@wynterleaf)
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Eddellyn Wynterleaf

[OOC: from the Central Street]

The evening hour was marked by a bell ringing in the distance as Wynterleaf returned to the Inn and slipped upstairs to her room. Secure in the small rented space, she dropped her cloak onto the bed and glanced around for the package with her gown, pleased to see it was placed neatly in the center of a chair near the door. Retrieving the package, she unwound the twine and shook out the length of deep blue fabric, the silky soft material gleaming with a silvery sheen as she examined it in the light. Carefully, she shook out the folds of the dress before she draped it over the back of the chair, mindful to minimize anything that would create a wrinkle.

From there, she emptied her pack onto the bed and began her selection of items she wanted to take to the Bridgeways. First, was a change of clothes consisting of black trousers and a grey tunic, she would also take her trusted cloak but that could travel with her in the carriage, with the excuse to wear it over her dress even if it wasn’t complimentary, it was still of high quality. Next were her weapons, there was no way she would leave her sword behind but neither was there any way to hide it on her person while in a gown, so that would also need to be included in the bundle. Her dagger could still be concealed on her boot; she knew that satin and jeweled heels were the expected footwear for any fancy dress but she had no intentions to buy any, so her boots would do. Fortunately, the skirt of the dress was long enough to brush the floor, which meant she could get away with wearing the boots, even if it meant she lacked the height heels would give her compared to the other ladies who would be in attendance.

Picking out a few other essential items, she bundled those as well into the backpack before tying it all together securely, ready for pickup in the early morning hours. Keeping the pack small and light meant that some of her things would be left behind but that was no matter, clothing and blankets were easily replaced. The valuable items she owned were few, the most precious to herself being a small leather-bound book she carried, but there was also the amulet that started her journey to Ufaeria plus the newly purchased magickal ring. There was no way she would let any out of her sight but they were all small and easily tucked about her person, either in a small pouch at her waist or hidden in her boots as well.

The hour was late when she was finally satisfied with her preparations and at last, settled into bed and a night of dreamless sleep.

Early the next morning, near the break of dawn, she crept out of the Inn to await the book clerk’s contact to pick up her belongings. It didn’t take long for a slender elf to slip from the shadows and identify themselves by signaling they were with the thieves guild. Her lips pursed tightly, Wynterleaf assessed the pale-haired female, committing her features to memory, before reluctantly handing over her belongings. It went without saying that she would hunt anyone and everyone down if her sword was not waiting as promised. The other elf took the pack with a terse nod of understanding and parted quickly, the entire transaction barely lasting a minute.

The first part of her preparations complete, Wynterleaf returned to her room to wait the morning out. Near midmorning, she cleaned up using a fresh basin of hot water brought up by a maid and she set about cleaning herself with more diligence than she typically would for a normal day. To at least fit in with other nobles, even if for a short period, she needed to pay extra care in her presentation so she made liberal use of the nicely scented soaps and lotions available to her. When it came to her hair, she waited for the maid to return and employed her help to tie her hair up into an intricate braid at the back of her head, mindful to keep all the stray hairs smoothed down. Satisfied that the hair would remain in place throughout the day and into the night, she tipped the maid for her help and sent her on her way.

The dreaded moment was on Wynterleaf at last, she had to put on the gown; her nerves and courage nearly deserting her at the last minute. The last time she wore a gown in public was faded far from memory, too long ago to recall with clarity but she reminded herself this is what the job required and she needed to put her distaste from her mind. Stripped of her clothes, she lifted the dress and pulled it into place, letting the fabric slither down her form, settling against her skin. The bodice was V-shaped, the narrow straps over her shoulders widening out over her chest into a deep plunging neckline, laying a significant portion of flesh and her secrets bare. Thin jagged lines of scar tissue from a long healed wound peeked from beneath the edge on the left side, marking where she was once stabbed in the heart. Further down, where the two sides of the fabric met, was the hint of a deep indigo tattoo. A shape that could have been a leaf or a feather as it arched up a portion of her sternum, the origins of the mark well concealed beneath hidden by her clothes.

Wynterleaf frowned as she saw how visible the tattoo was and then cursed Vincen and his fashionable dress, the markings were private and not meant for anyone’s eyes, a reminder to herself of everything she had lost. She spent several moments staring at herself in the small oval mirror that hung on the wall, tugging at the gown, trying to bring the edges together in the front to conceal the tattoo, until at last, cursing again and more violently this time, before she sighed in resignation. There was nothing to be done, she didn’t intend at being at the masquerade long and wouldn’t offer any explanations to anyone regardless if it was remarked upon.

As she studied herself in the small looking glass, she had to reluctantly admit the gown fit perfectly and was beautifully made, M Chemaux was excellent at his craft and seemed to be a cunning person to have as an ally. She would do all she could to retrieve the seal he requested from the Syltamuls, making it only second in priority to her search for answers regarding the enigmatic Mystics.

Dressed and ready to depart, Wynterleaf took some time to practice her movements in the gown, getting used to the way it swished about her feet and brushed against her hips, reminding herself to keep her movements slow and deliberate, mimicking the ways of the noblewomen she had observed many times over the years. Only mildly confident that she’d pass as a noble herself only for a few minutes, she spent some time in meditation until at last, she heard the jingle of bells from the courtyard. Getting up, she looked down from her window and spotted an elaborate carriage, no doubt the one Travion had promised to send.

Checking herself one last time, she remembered at the last moment to pull on the black satin gloves to cover her arms. The right glove slid on easily, the end fitting perfectly over the stump of her arm, covering her well above her elbow. It took only a bit more effort to get on her left glove but that too fit perfectly, molding to her hand and hiding the brand that said she was a thief. Settling her cloak over her shoulders and pulling it together in the front to hide the dress, she took a last look around the room before going downstairs where she bid Alred goodbye, letting the barkeep know that she wouldn’t be back.


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