Bar Scene

Thread in 'Ramathian Scrolls' started by Isiltari, Jan 31, 2004.

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  1. OOC:
    Timestamp: 4th of Mia, Year 81378 (4)
    Character: Jyta Telbaj - 2200 - Female - Seduction (A) - Languages (B )

    Lol, I just realized something... Okkie has two different colored eyes, and so do I! :) So does my charry Nafel, actually. ^_^

    BIC: Jyta strolled along the pier. The night was upon them already, and the stars were out. It was beautiful, but cold. Jyta was in her usual four-legged form, so she wore no clothing. As she strolled back towards the inland part of the pier, she noticed a sign. It looked like a bar, oddly enough. Most bars that she knew of were in Bhim, but she knew there were others.

    Might be interesting to go... she thought to herself. At least, it's a place to get out of the cold.

    With nothing but that thought and a shrug, she headed to the bar. It looked normal enough, filled with 'dragons that were lounging, talking, and (of course) drinking. She sauntered over to the bar counter, using her front paws to see over the top. She caught the attention of the bartender, and after a brief exchange she held a beer in her delicate paws. Taking it, she went to an unoccupied booth and sat herself down in the more convinient furniture. It was akward to stand and drink at the same time, especially in quad form.

    As she lounged, she viewed the bar patrons with pink eyes. What she had really stopped in here for, aside from alcohol, was gossip. 'Dragons on the pier usually knew more than the ones in Bhim, as far as legal activity was concerned. Jyta lounged on one side, her rose tattoo displayed, as she waited. For what, she didn't know, but she was happy enough to bide her time until a story graced her ears.
     
  2. <div align="right"><blockquote><blockquote><font style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px; color: black; letter-spacing: 0px; line-height: 11px"><font style="font-family: OCR A Extended; font-size: 25px; color: black; letter-spacing: 0px; line-height: 11px">Out of Character</font>

    °Flies in!° Rar. Hi? Heh. Excuse my first paragraph. I got way too involved in describing Okkie. It’s the two latter paragraphs that are actually important. Mm, and also ignore my fancy-pants HTML. I’m just playing around. Probably won’t keep it or anything. Ehhe.

    <font style="font-family: OCR A Extended; font-size: 25px; color: black; letter-spacing: 0px; line-height: 11px">In Character</font>

    Tonight, Okkie was wearing one of her “sexier” ensembles. Though it was by no means sluttish or distasteful — in fact, it was quite imaginative! — her particular choice of clothing accented her thin frame, slightly flared hips, trim belly, and small yet supple breasts quite illustriously. Her chemise was a rather tight, white tee with the Janardan crest across the sternum, and the water polo team’s logo below it; her last name, and her number, which was twelve, of course, decorated the backside of the blouse. Underneath it she wore an accentual red tee, which played quite wonderfully off the crimson tones in the Janardan emblems. The fact that these shirts were pulled tautly over the young female’s mammalian region was quite enough to drop chins a few inches, but then there was also the fact that they exposed a dapper brown belly. A good area of her stomach was bare beneath the hems of her two tees, and this lack of coverage exposed a rather dazzling sterling chain in Okkie’s belly button. It started as a simple mercury ring implanted in the small curve of her navel, and then a very intricate chain hung loosely, ending in a tiny loop, which hung just a hair’s breadth away from the carmine rim of cotton boxer shorts. Said boxers were held just a sliver above “blushing level”; they were slung quite low, beneath Okkie’s deliciously peaking pelvis, and even below her streamlined tail. Fortunately, a pebbled belt held them up — it was an alluring alabaster strap with a thin red streak slicing right through the middle of its circumference. It was a bit too long, and its surfeit hung down Okkie’s front [though a little to the left so it wouldn’t interfere with her serpentine movements]. It was a splash of clashing hues against her baggy black cargo pants, which hugged her hips and legs just right, and which flowed down to her tennis shoes, which were blindingly white with red rubber soles, in a bundle of onyx cloth. Now, her outfit was quite striking all on its own, but it was the accessories that made it such a masterpiece — Twelve sported red, white, and black striped tube socks which extended from her elbows to her wrists, a headband that matched her girdle, and a slack, floppy hairstyle, her white tresses tipped in cherry and jet-black [who would have guessed?]. The sinuous curves of her hefty ears, and the struts of her feathery wings, were also decorated — with hoary trinkets that matched her belly button ring and her mercurial tongue stud. All of this, thrown together arbitrarily but somehow very cleverly and precisely, made for one extremely palatable outfit…

    And Okkie the Twelfth knew it. As she slunk along the back wall of the bar, trying her best to be inconspicuous, she knew that heads were turning her way, staring, scrutinizing. Despite her wish to be subtle [she was underage, and she had just sneaked into the tavern], she was quite flattered by the eyes that roved over her tantalizing bodice. She’d dressed for these looks, had worn this top and these slacks so that eyes would wind her way. She just hoped that none of the piercing oculars that stuck to her like flies on fly paper were authoritarian… then they’d turn into a brusque timbre and a brawny body and one pass straight out of the pub and back onto the docks… Not something Okkie wanted right now.

    What she wanted, in fact, was to prowl in the shadows, and eventually find a seat. Which she accomplished in just a manner of minutes after her shrewd entrance; the female sought out a stool and a small table in one corner of the crowded building, and sat upon it, her brush-tipped tail curling into her lap. Okkie could still feel the eyes, raking across her like licking conflagration, but she avoided them. For now, she kept her mismatched blue and green eyes avoidant, and kept only her perceptive ears open…
     
  3. 0oC: Present. ^^

    Simon Devs was a diehard globetrotter, and yet after riding hundred-foot tall waterfalls and witnessing the incomprehensible, seemingly painted beauty of some of the largest canyons at sunset, he was still quite sure that the East Coast fishing piers was one of his favorite locations on the planet. There was something so uplifting about its general atmosphere. He was situated, quite comfortably now, at the ‘bar’ of a tavern right close to the docks. It was moderately packed, its inner glow warm when contrasted to the blue-black night world glimpsed through the windows. A sea-faring gull of some kind perched at the sill closest to him, pecking at a morsel probably given by one of the many tourists in the area. As the door opened, inviting in another customer, he caught a whiff of the salt and seaheather waiting outside, as well as a sample of the nightly chill. It didn’t faze him, however- Simon was on a roll, the usual heat of a story coursing through his veins like fire. But of course! It could only be expected that fifty percent of the conversation in a bar close to renown fishing piers was constituted of wildly exaggerated fishing tales.

    “So there I was, stranded in a rickety old raft, out in the middle of the Hrishikesh, chilled to the bone and with a serial killer as my only companion. We both looked, real shifty-eyed, see, to the single pocketknife lying there, smack between us. I made an attempt to glare. I was never real good at that, so I tried a vaguely charming smile. Next thing I knew, I had a smelly, mean-looking assassin hovering over me, the cold feel of a blade to my throat…"

    A cluster of his fellows was about him, and as he spoke, the chocolate-colored male made broad, animated gestures, eyes darting with each phrase to another one of its members. He too, was in his four-legged state, as his clothes had been discarded out on the pier, wet from earlier activities and much too uncomfortable in that state. A resident from Earth would hardly call him a pendragon, indeed at the moment he looked little different from a normal wolf, what with his wings hidden and no tail-flame to be found. “Just when I thought I’d never see another day again, his face froze, his grizzled, unkempt features arrested in sheer terror, as his bloodshot yellow eyes slowly traveled just above my head…"
     
  4. OOC: Woo! ^_^

    IC: Jyta sipped her beer, watching the 'dragons come and go out of the bar. A femme in bipedal state walked in, and would have been unusual; but she looked slightly familiar. Wondering where she had seen her, Jyta noticed the Janardian logo. That explained it, she had probably seen the femme around school.

    As she turned her gaze towards one of the windows with a gull perched on it, she smiled. She really did love birds, wingless though she was. As she looked at the sea-avian, her sharp ears picked up a strain of conversation. "Next thing I knew, I had a smelly, mean-looking assassin hovering over me, the cold feel of a blade to my throatÂ…" She opened her eyes a little wider, and moved her attention entirely to the speaker. He was quite a good storyteller, whoever he was.

    The brown male looked older than she, maybe 30 years or so. With a slight adjustment of her body, she made sure that the story teller could see her, and see that she was listening to his tale. His whole body was involved in the tale, it seemed. Arms were flying, and he seemed to be reliving the moment as he recounted it. Jyta smiled, her gold-pierced ears pricked forward to catch the strains of his voice.
     
  5. Only after a few minutes had passed did Okkie start feeling safe enough to lift her eyes and take a gander at the crowd gathered around the small maritime pub. She slowly elevated her muzzle and surveyed the population with her almond-shaped hybrid eyes (the right was a rather startling blue, the left a glimmering green). Her ears were laid back, conveying wariness, and they picked up every noise in the large room — the scrape of a stool’s leg on the wooden floor, the sound of an empty glass being pounded on the bar, and bouts of laughter of varying volumes. But it was her mismatched orbs that originally sought out the story teller, not her keen ears. Before Okkie picked up on his fishing tale, the female’s eyes snagged on the male sitting at the bar, swinging his arms, an enthusiastic and intense look on his face. He was obviously in the heat of a good tale, and other pendragons were scooching close to hear. His tale must be an exciting one… Twelve thought, somewhat sad that she was across the room and could only pick up the most delicate strain of his story. Wish I could listen in. Hm… Mayhap I can. It doesn’t seem as if anybody’s onto me…

    With that stealthy thought, ’Kie slid from her seat, and began to slink towards the actual bar. She walked a sultry walk, but for the most part, she tried to be subtle. Her entrance had been more emphasized, but now she treasured vagueness… She really wanted to hear this guy’s story, and she didn’t want to be thrown out on her ass before she got a chance to.

    The moments of her crossing were painstaking. Less eyes were on her now than had been on her earlier, but Okkie could still feel a few oculars peeling at her, as if they were actually fingers trying to claw her clothing from her body. A few of the pendragons watching her seemed like brutes, and their gazes she briefly met with icy stares that caused them to either become confused, or to look away altogether. After her third round of sending fiery looks at revolting males, Okkie found she was finally at the bar, a few feet away from the word weaver. She switched her feathery tail, and slipped gracefully into a seat. Now, her coyote ears could pick up every last emphasis in his voice, and the female listened attentively as he continued his story…
     
  6. “For a moment I was relieved. I tried to snatch the weapon, but his fingers were closed around it in a cold, death-like grip. Slowly, I turned, following his gaze, and came face-to-face with a giant cavern filled with teeth, ready to engulf us. That’s right fellas, right there, poppin’ out of the water like a rubber toy was an adult cruork, and trust me that the sight of one of them monsters gaping wide is one of the scariest things on the planet. I almost wet myself."

    His cunning yellow orbs, flecked with traces of orange and red that seemed to dissolve and reappear frequently, flickered back and forth over his small audience, spotting a female over by the window as she re-adjusted herself towards him. He felt struck with flattery. As far as Simon was concerned, the fairer sex was much more difficult to please, and with good reason- males tended to be slightlyÂ… simple-minded. His ego received a second boost as he glimpsed yet another pendragon-ess, brown in color and seemingly low profile. He had paused for effect, and now quickly took the opportunity to take a drink from his mug of beer, wiping a paw across his lips before continuing.

    “Like a couple of girls, we scurried backwards to the other end of our puny flotation device, clinging to each other and squealing. For that moment we were allied, I guess, even though he was a mass murderer turned hermit and I was just one of the unfortunate tourists gone astray from the group. Funny, and sad, really, how most unifications are born from a mutual dislike. Anyways, I think our jiffy-long friendship ended there, because immediately this Jango guy opened his trap, almost killing me and the freakin’ fish with his breath right then and there, and screamed for his life. Then he added, ‘Eat him! Look how skinny and leathery and thoroughly unpleasant I am.’ To which I replyed, ‘Yes, Sir, he would give you a stomachache. And burning diarrhea.’ So… we were talking to a fish. Being stuck out in the middle of the arctic ocean with only a vast span of blue all around does things to you. But I swear that shark-thing quirked a brow at us.

    Then again, I always did think every creature was intelligent."
    Simon’s story was beginning to sound a tad questionable, but what seaside tavern’s fish story wasn’t? He offered an odd sort of smile, a claw skritching absently at his jawbone. The male had noticed by now that the chocolate-colored fem seemed a tad younger than the usual crowd at the bar… the Janardan shirt didn’t help, either. Of course, she might’ve just been a proud graduate, but somehow he had to ask himself if she was… well, legal. Not that he cared much, let alone would take action. As far as he was concerned, ‘kids’ needed to experience the world fully. Bars weren’t /completely/ all fights, cursing, and sex, after all. Hell, who cared.
     
  7. When the male 'dragon's eyes flicked towards hers, for just a brief moment, Jyta smiled. The story was entertaining, albeit jut slightly unrealistic. <span style='color:red'>But, </span>she thought to herself, <span style='color:red'>it's fish tale. 'Tis to be expected.</span> When his eyes darted towards the Janardian femme, Jyta paused to take a second look at her. She kept both ears and an eye on the story, studying Okkie out of the corner of her remaining optical. She had come to the same conclusion as the storyteller about her age, but (like him) she didn't really care. She'd snuck into bars applenty in Bhim when she was younger, and she was still alive.

    With that analysis complete, she turned her attention back to the story teller. <span style='color:orange'>"Then again, I always did think every creature was intelligent." </span> She raised what would have been her eyebrows had she had them. She knew only a few 'dragons who thought like that. During a slight lull in the story, she 'pathed him. <span style='color:red'>{Hi... I'm Jyta, the red femme. What is your name?} </span> Mundane enough conversation, she thought. If he didn't want more to do with her, or couldn't be spared to 'path during the story, she'd just talk to him later.
     
  8. As Okkie got the gist of the story, a crescent began to snake over her muzzle. It was interesting enough, but it was also an obvious tall tale — assassins and gigantic fish? Quite an unlikely scenario. Nevertheless… it made for an interesting story, and the banded pendragon found herself leaning forward, her elbows on the bar, keen to listen in to the tale. Her tail waved a bit behind her, and her wings (which were presently in a ‘mini-shift’) ruffled. She had originally planned to come to this bar to get the four-eleven on alcohol… But now she was engrossed in a whole different subject.

    Alas, this was not to last. Even as the storyteller’s tail got quite a bit juicier, Okkie felt a tug on her tail. Alarmed and immediately angered, she wanted nothing more than to spin around and gnash her fangs at whomever dared to touch her. But chances were, it was a security guard or some such (did they even have those sort of precautions around here?), and she was in deep trouble. Hence, she bit back her growl of displeasure and turned around slowly. Though, as it soon dawned on her, these cautionary movements were unnecessary. It wasn’t a beefy he-pendragon trying to escort her from the building and back to the school she belonged to. Instead — it was a rather greasy fellow, obviously drunk, and his fingers were moving in for a second grab. This time for her butt, not her tail. Maybe his last attempt had merely been a miss…?

    Excuse me.” This line was ejaculated with a venomous tinge as ’Kie finally played on her fury. She slid from her chair just before the clammy palm landed on her ass, and she swiveled to face this nameless drunk. “Did you just try to grope, me, you flaming ass hat? I would think even a nasty drunk like you would have more sense. Because those who grab a Stormwing get exactly what’s coming to them.”

    And with that, she pulled back her arm, and then let it spring forward, planting it right in his face. Well… If she hadn’t been noticed before for her misbehavior, she sure was going to be seen now!
     
  9. He leaned forward on the wooden counter, head sinking slightly between his chocolate-laced shoulders as he watched the bar’s good people with slight interest. Just as he was thinking, er, ‘remembering’ what happened next, the male was suddenly confronted with a voice in his head. {Hi... I'm Jyta, the red femme. What is your name?} His automatic response was to glance over his shoulder, but as he soon realized the nature of the message, Simon pushed himself backwards from the counter. Ah, mindspeak- the one thing that he really wished he had a natural talent for. Unfortunately, any telepathy that could be wrenched loose from his brain was muddy, unclear, and took great effort. He often joked of the ‘natural stupidity of males’, but though shapeshifting was great and wonderful and he was good at it, being a communicator by nature made Simon long for the ease with which femmes spoke with silence. Hmm… mental note: find lessons.

    In any case, he didn’t want to seem rude by refusing this ‘Jyta’ a response of some kind, especially since she possessed what he considered to be one of the most beautiful names in the world, which, coincidentally, was also his mother’s. Heheh, mommy’s boy. Holding up a hand and grasping his mug with the other, Simon now declared, “’Scuse me fellas, but I’m afraid a prior engagement has suddenly popped up. It’s been right good chatting with all of you- nice carp story, Jo, real swell, yes… All I can say about mine is it ends with a wedding. I’m sure it’ll come back to me soon. Ta!" With that, he departed from his seat and began to wander over to the red femme, smiling sheepishly and still holding his beer. Before he could open his mouth, however, another distraction struck the bar.

    It appeared that the younger girl from Janardan was a feisty character. She had slugged a guy right there in the middle of everyone, and while from the looks of the creep Simon felt he could safely assume that she was in the right, he was also very sure of the consequences of such drastic actions. Though slightly worried for her, he had to suppress a laugh by raising his remaining fist to his maw and coughing loudly. Now balanced on his haunches, though not at all precariously, the thought struck him that a bipedal form at this moment would be more practical. A sideways glance was thrown to the seductress, coupled with a raising of his eyebrows. "SheÂ’s in for itÂ…" he whispered, all the while trying to think of a solution for the poor girl. No doubt she just wanted a little fun.
     
  10. As the story teller approacherd her with a sheepish smile, the Seductress realized that he wasn't able to 'path. She knew that there were 'dragons like that, her cousin Nurano was one of them. As she was about to open her mouth to greet him, she heard a thud. Turning a startled head in the direction of the Janardian femme, she noticed a bleeding drunk scooting away, tail literally between his legs. Behind her, she heard <span style='color:orange'>"She's in for it..."</span> She was momentarilly startled, until she remembered that the male was only a few feet behind her.

    Jyta looked up at the storyteller, who she still didn't know the name of, and wondered what to do.<span style='color:red'> "Yes,"</span> she replied, <span style='color:red'>"but I'd have done the same in her situation. Want to see if we can help her out? I can tell them what the other 'dragon was doing, and who better to trust on such matters than a Seductress?"</span> She bared her teeth a little. She hated gropers. Jyta began to wind her way towards Okkie, without really making it appear that she was. She didn't bother to see if the story teller was following. If he was, then good on him, and if he wasn't, well... It was a small bar. Finally reaching Okkie, she raised an eyebrow. <span style='color:red'>{Groper?}</span> She paused to look at the 'dragon currently moving away.

    She paused to regret her overture of helpfulness. She really hadn't meant to insinuate that the femme couldn't take care of hersrelf, but she knew that the girl might take it like that. She might still be angry at anything, male or female, that tried to talk to her. Oh well.<span style='color:red'> {I'm Jyta, a Seductess. I might know the bar owner, if you need any,}</span> slight pause,<span style='color:red'> {help.} </span>
     
  11. Perhaps if she had been in one of her more rotten and reckless moods, Okkie would now be seething, hissing and spilling expletives, turning to slash at any pendragon that made a wrong move in her direction. But tonight she was both optimistic (at least for her) and cautious. After all, she was in a bar, and she was underage. And she had already called enough attention to herself. Hence, instead of swearing loudly and spreading violence, the young Stormwing merely stood over her victim, who was now wimpering and crawling away, watching him with steely hybrid eyes. Her greatest desire, borne of bloodlust and vengeance, was to trail after him like any violated predator and rip him to shreds. But that was definitely out of the question — all she could really do was watch him finally scoot towards the door and exit, one hand holding his bleeding nose. Serves you goddamn right, Okkie thought, and then the moment broke like ice, and she realized she was shaking rather hard, out of both anger and tension.

    But she didn’t get even a moment to calm herself down. For just as the banded youth tried to clear her mind and start thinking positively again, she felt a strange buzzing in the back of her head. Ah, someone was attempting telepathy, and it was garbled because the spy student had many a firewall mounted in her psyche. Though afraid that it was perhaps some sort of security guard calling on her to punish her, Okkie nevertheless destroyed her blockades and allowed the timbre to play itself out. Surprisingly, it was not a guard, not even a male… Instead, it was a sympathetic feminine purr.

    After listening to what this Jyta had to say, Twelve responded swiftly: Ah, yeah. A groper. I’m… I’m Okkie, from Janardan. This is why you should not, in fact, call on the owner. He might kick me out, after telling me all of this was my own fault. So — no. I don’t need his help, or even yours, for that matter. Her intonation was a little bitter, but not exactly hostile. While she was sending her telepathic messages, her eyes roved across the bar, past all the faces still looking at her with curiosity, and then they landed on a crimson female who was winding her way towards Okkie.</i>

    “But I could use a sort of… escort, if you will,” she said aloud as soon as Jyta was within earshot. “I’m young and troublesome and I could use anybody’s companionship so I’m a little less obvious as a rule-breaker, you know? Hey, by the way, what the hell do you mean by, you might know the bar owner? You must be a seductress, eh?”

    Okkie had completely forgotten the storyteller.
     
  12. 0oC: Arrrg, sorry guys. x___x Really packed weekend, and then a pile of homework.

    “Me too," he answered abruptly to the crimson fem, “I just sort of worry about her… age…" He trailed off a bit, claw scratching absently at his chin as he seemed to contemplate the situation. He would feel pretty guilty if she was kicked out, though he hardly knew this girl. On the other hand, though the bar was small and its owner probably a little less than tolerant of fights, the place also seemed homely and reasonable, and whatever persons had witnessed the backlash no doubt sided with the Janardan graduate… or, as he feared, student. In any case, he certainly did want to help her out, and so nodded and quietly followed after Jyta, apparently thoughtful. As he did, he mentioned, “A Seductress, eh? That’s interesting." His tone bordered on neutral, but was hard to read all the same.

    As they approached the stranger, who seemed to quiver with rage like a volcano on ominous schedule (he did note that she could probably, no doubt, kick his arse), Simon noticed that the two females were no doubt trading messages telepathically. Whilst tailing Jyta, he could only watch over her shoulder, twiddling his thumbs like an idiot and once again wishing for some mental ability. A relief which was, in his eyes, mildly pathetic, washed over him as he heard her speak once they were in close proximity. “But I could use a sort of… escort, if you will. I’m young and troublesome and I could use anybody’s companionship so I’m a little less obvious as a rule-breaker, you know? Hey, by the way, what the hell do you mean by, you might know the bar owner? You must be a seductress, eh?"

    Ah, so he was right in his assumption. If he wouldÂ’ve been in his preferred, two-legged morph, he wouldÂ’ve shoved his hands into his pockets right about now, no doubt consenting to let Jyta answerÂ… as Jyta was spoken to. All the same, however, he sortÂ’ve glanced at her in much the same fashion that a little boy whoÂ’s just picked up a stray puppy looks pleadingly at his mother. An almost comical move, seeing as how he was a good decade and more older than her.
     
  13. Jyta grinned, amused. "A Seductress, yes. In my spare time, a student of various dialects. As for an escort..." She turned her head back to the pleading looking Storyteller. "I'm a fairly respectable Janardian student of proper age, and the Storyteller," inwardly she winced at the impersonal "the", but she didn't know his name, "is old enough looking that when you're with us you shouldn't have problems. You are now my simply legal but youthful-faced friend." She smiled up at the bipedal 'dragon.

    She turned towards the booth that she had just vacated. It (and more importantly, her beer), were still free and unchanged. "So, let's head back to the booth, eh? I'll buy you both beers. You do both drink, right?" A rather stupid question, considering they were in a bar, and one of them was in a bar illegally, but she wanted to make sure that the Storyteller didn't mind indulging. It might slur his words if he had a low tolerence, and that was never a good thing. Jyta had nothing, however, to fear from alcohol. She could drink any 'dragon in the bar under the table, as long as they bought the beer.

    She was happy that the younger femme hadn't spurned her overtures of friendship, at least not yet. With both the younger student and the Storyteller, this promised to be quite an evening. However, she wished she knew their names. "Oh yes, what are your names? I really would like to know." She flicked an ear good-naturedly.
     
  14. Okkie finally became aware of the storyteller’s presence, and her mismatched eyes fell upon him in a quick appraisal. He was a little less than twice her age, but despite his relatively ‘elderly’ age, the youthful femme decided he was rather cute. Not to mention imaginitive. She flicked her large ears and idly pondered over whether he would continue his exciting story. That was, if he ever remembered it…

    “Hello, there. I’m Okkie Stormwing, and you are?” She finally spoke up, peering candidly at the male. Then, knowing he would get his word in edgewise as soon as he could, she turned her gaze to Jyta. “That sounds like a good plan… thank-you. But I’ll pass on the beer. I do drink, but not… beer.”

    Okkie stuffed her hands in her pockets, just then, and rolled on the balls of her digitigrade feet. She waited for the Seductress to lead her and the storyteller to the booth she had mentioned, and she wondered what exactly kept them from telling on her. She hoped they weren’t some sort of kinky swing pair that expected minority sex from her… that would be really creepy. Then again, it wasn’t like she was being completely truthful with them. Her friendly overtures and her innocence were just cards she played — what she really wanted was camouflage so that she could get smashed without receiving the boot for it later. And, ah, naïve adults made the best sort of cover.
     
  15. He nodded his head as she explained the cover-up, apparently in idle agreement. “Yep… got a good double-three, double-zero under my belt." His fiery gaze had wandered to the ceiling boards, their finely chiseled wood, the warm glowing light of the tavern flickering along their many crevices in teasing delight. Coincidentally, he still held his beer in his paw, but there was only an inch or so left of the dark golden liquid. Much to his dismay. In fact, at the seductress’s offer, he quickly shotgun-ed the rest, a sneakish smile lingering on his maw as he removed the mug from his face, a bit of foam still clinging to its interior. “Why, madam, those might just be the sweetest words I’ve heard all night. Being a gentleman, it’s my duty to insist /I/ pay, but I should warn you that I’m much more inclined to your proposal." He was, of course, just joshing.

    His eyes turned to the newly-introduced Okkie Stormwing. They were quite similar to the much sought-after residents of the lively brick fireplaces in the lincoln log cabins one dreams about on snowy days. Not quite glassy, but with more substance, the lively irises like rings of sun-carved gold, flecked with reds and oranges that seemed almost animate, almost flickering like the warmest of flames. They were not piercing or stunning or shocking or very seizing at all, rather open and inviting. Direct eye contact with this fellow was about as intimidating as glaring directly at a mirror. “Simon Devs, pleasure." He directed the statement at both- how rude it had been of him, introduction had completely slipped his mind. A lively smile followed suit, and a beat later he found himself wondering what she did drink. He had thought her too old for milk.

    No mistake, however: Simon was by no means an alcoholic, though he did drink by peer pressure, though not in the same sense one might expect. He had actually been drunk only a few times in his life, mostly the ‘dragon engaged in the act for innocent conversational reasons. He had found that a lot of individuals- especially young ones- loosened up with a few drinks, even while they were still quite sober. As if they just expected the beer to make them so, so they brought it around themselves. No skin off his nose, he thoroughly enjoyed a good chat over drinks. More than anything, drinking had become a hobby for him.
     
  16. Jyta grinned. "Righty-o, then. There's the booth." She nodded in the general direction with her wine-colored head, beginning to walk towards her abandoned beer. She wove around the few 'dragons in her path and sat back down. She reclined slightly less, so that both Okkie and Simon could sit with her. She waited for them to come, but since she already knew what Simon wanted to drink, she 'pathed Okkie. {You don't want a beer? Is there anything I can get you?}

    As she waited for a response, she checked the bar to make sure that no one was looking for the underage 'dragon. She seemed to have been forgotten, for now. With that, she switched her eyes to her two companions. Simon was the first to be observed. His scale-fur was an intriguing shade of brown. It seemed neither to reflect the light or deflect it. Rather, it seemed to absorb it into its own color, creating an unusual depth. As her eyes focused on his tail, she gave a slight double take. He didn't have a tail flame! That was, insofar as she knew, not possible. Maybe he shape shifted it away. She recalled that her cousin had said something about being able to conceal his tail-flame during times when he wanted to not be observed.

    Okkie, in her bipedal form, was another story. She was quite pretty, at least in this shape. Jyta figured that she was probably just as pretty in her quad form, however. She seemed far more feline than most 'dragons in the way she walked. Very graceful, especially for a bipedal form. Now that she had heard the name, Jyta was fairly sure who the younger 'dragon was. She was the captain of the Water Polo team, the one with three trades. At least, that was what Jyta remembered hearing about her.

    They both seemed interesting enough to provide interesting conversation for a long while. Jyta smiled, her pink eyes glittering.
     
  17. It wasn’t long before the burgundy seductress began to walk, leading her unusual harem behind her. Okkie still had her hands jammed in her pockets as she slouched behind Jyta, and she peered around at the bar’s patrons as she padded towards the booth. Most of the crowd was composed of the masculine variety, mostly in their thirties and forties. But there were a few other types hanging around — a table full of young adults was quite raucous and vocal in one corner of the pub, and a few meters away from them, there was a couple of extremely old prostitutes, their fur gray and their eyes sagging as they tried to uselessly flash their antique wares. Right next to the scantily-clad ancients was a table where a single studious pendragon scoured a pile of papers in front of her, and Okkie’s eyes passed wonderingly over this ’dragon, taking note that the older student had a tail flame. Quite a mutation for a female, but it was lovely… it flared like pink gossamer butterfly wings, entrancing-like. The youthful Stormwing wanted to stare at it for hours, perhaps touch it to see if it felt like satin gauze, but just then, she bumped her hip bone into a table, and she snapped back to attention. Her two escorts were slipping into the booth, and, not desiring to look stupid or obvious, Okkie woofed under her breath and slid in next to Jyta, her tail stiff and her large ears pulled back as she tried to appear as tough and gruff as any other drinker here.

    “Well, Simon, Jyta, I hope you don’t mind if I order a Spidershark,” Okkie spoke aloud after a moment of silence had engulfed the trio. Her comment not only answered the other female’s inquiry about what kind of drink she wanted, but it also acted like an icebreaker, and she launched into more diatrible. “Just a shot… that will give me a momentary blitz. I actually don’t know if I’m a lightweight, so I’ll just take my drinks progressively. What about you two? Beer drinkers only?”

    While she spoke, her strikingly different eyes flitted betwixt her company, and the rest of the populace clustered in the bar.
     
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