Featuring: Lyri and Valens
Date: February 2 & 8, 2005
IC Date: Mid-March 3931, several days before the Amarada sets sail from Parnassus
Summary: A couple of non-traditional Empyreans meet up in the Naughty Nereus to discover their paths lead in the same direction.

Tavern - Naughty Nereus - Navale Dockside

The dank interior of this sordid little tavern has seen some years of abuse. Walls are a glorious burnt orange, or rather - they were, about ten years ago. Now mottled, the earthen walls peek through the cracks, and attempts to patch them have resulted in varying shades of orange speckling the room. While there are windows in the room, they're only opened during the warmer months.

Directly in the center of the tavern is a large fire pit, a flagstone wall encircling the flames so that frequent brawlers might not end up among them. The chimney yawns above and rises through the center of the building, a hollow column of stone that keeps every room warm as smoke and drifting embers escape through the roof. Roughly hewn tables and benches encircle the pit, providing space for a weary patron to rest for a few minutes.

The bar, perhaps the place of most interest to the patrons, is opposite the main door. Giving the namesake of the tavern a dubious honor, hanging behind the bar there is a gaudily painted carving of the god Nereus - engaged in 'naughty' activities with several wenches. A modest swinging door to the left of the bar is rather plain and small, leading into the back room. Catching the eye, door to the right of the bar is far more elaborate. Keeping with the nautical theme, the mouth of a rather large fish was carved around the entryway swallowing any who go up the stairs, which rise to an upper level where guests can spend the night -- or just a couple of hours with a willing partner.

The sun having set only a few hours ago, the Naughty Nereus is busy... or rather, very loud, as many of its patrons have formed a small encirclement to observe what appears to be a barroom brawl. But amongst the crowd of mongrels, Varati, and city-dwelling Sylvans, is a lone Empyrean, and a new one at that, in a fight with a Varati sailor, another one sprawled on a table unconscious, as the mix of sailors and dock workers shout and jeer. But things clear as the Empyrean lands a solid punch against side of the Varati's face, ending the fight, and all the commotion. Bar wenches move quickly to clean up the mess, which includes a broken barstool and some shards of glass as the Empyrean snatches up a bottle of rotgut on the counter of the bar and sits at his usual table towards a dark corner, taking a swig.

Lyri enters the tavern just as the brawl is winding to its smashing (literally) finale. The door falls shut behind her as she cranes her neck to see just what all the commotion is about. Tucking her wings tightly to her spine, she wiggles between two exceptionally tall mongrels, catching a glimpse of the Empyrean with his drink and the wenches cleaning up the remainder of the mess. The Empyrean receives a long perusal before Lyri makes a brief, thoughtful moue and continues on her way to the bar. Gesturing to the bartender, she orders up the cheapest alcoholic snot they've got, turning to glance over her shoulder at the rest of the room in idle curiosity until her drink is delivered.

Valens lifts his head up, a smirk on his face as he sees Lyri sit down at the bar. He wrinkles his nose a bit as he takes out a rag to sop up the trickle of red falling from his nose as he stands up, "Aw sunuvabitch. I swear if he broke my nose..." he mutters to himself as he picks up his cloak and his back scabbard. Moving over next to Lyri with an almost amused grin on his sweat-glistening face, he rests his head against his fist, leaning on the bar with his arm as he asks, "So is that the latest fashion for Empyrean girls?"

As the bartender slides her drink to her, Lyri grasps the handle of the beat-up mug, lifting its dubious contents to her mouth for a long swig. Rubbing the back of her hand over her mouth, she plunks the mug down, turning to angle a blue-green glance at Valens. She gives him another perusal, this one lasting all of two heartbeats, before she turns her head forward again, replying gruffly, "If I see any, I'll ask 'em for you, eh, boyo?" She mutters, before lifting her mug once more. Seems the chit has one intention tonight: get as drunk as possible as soon as possible. Before she's even finished the first mug, she signals the bartender for another.

Valens beckons the bartender with a slight tilt of his head, whispering something in his ear and passing some rather shiny silver denarii across the counter with a slight clink. Sitting down next to Lyri, two shotglasses of bonded whiskey arrive as he shrugs his broad shoulders casually as he turns to face the counter, holding up the glass up to the light for a second, "If you want to get drunk, pay a little extra and get some liquor. Otherwise, you looking at a hole in your stomach tomorrow and wishing you weren't born..." he says quietly, the heat of alcohol laced in his breath, as he examines the warm brownish-amber liquid with one more whiff before quaffing it down. The barkeep hands Valens a bottle of the stuff, as he pours himself another glass.

"What does it matter, if no one knew I was or not?" Lyri mutters under her breath, draining her mug in the next heartbeat. But as the bottom of the container hits the bar, she turns a wary glance at the Empyrean at her side. Arching a copper brow, she nods to the bottle, "What do you recommend then to get a body drunk fast as possible? That stuff? What is it? I'm short on coin, but if it do the trick..."

A smirk as Valens turns around, watery sapphires looking directly into Lyri's eyes intently, "I would say rotgut any other day, but you're too young to drink Varati fire-water, kid. That shit hits the biggest of them Praetorians like a thousand ton rock..." Placing the bottle for Lyri to reach it, he reaches over to the other shotglass, setting it in front of her. He says, "Bonded whiskey is a good start. Consider yourself lucky that someone is buying you a bottle. It'll last you a few nights if you're as tough as you act." Letting go of the bottle, he turns around, setting a few more denarii for another bottle. Waiting for the barkeep to fetch it, he slings his scabbard, resting it against his back, draping his cloak on a shoulder and using the ruddy brown cloth to wipe off some of the dried blood from under his nose.

Lyri affects a brief frown at his mention of her age. "Ain't that young." She mutters under her breath, but reaches for the shotglass he plunks down in front of her all the same. "Appreciate the gesture, though. Never thought to meet a lad in here who'd buy a lady a drink." Though she's likely no lady. And he's a bit old to be callin' a lad. "Bonded whiskey, eh?" She mutters, pouring herself a shot of it, then lifting it to her lips for a quick swallow.

Valens chuckles slightly as he takes another shot of the whiskey, "Aye. Aged more, burns less," he replies. The barkeep brings him his own bottle, while a barwench brings a small platter of warmed bread, "You hungry?" He asks as he tears off a piece of the soft bread, chewing on it before waiting for an answer. With a faint rustle, he puts back on his cloak, with a hint not of salty brine and tar that is to be expected from a sailor, but almost a faint scent of burnt ash, pine, and rich earth.

"Depends on what 'm supposed to be hungry for." Lyri replies as she pours another shot. Turning her head, she spies the bread, grimacing for a moment, before nodding. "Aye, could use a bite. Haven't eaten since breakfast." She reaches out, snagging a piece of bread and tearing it in two. Popping a piece in her mouth, she eyes Valens, mouthing around her mastication of the bread: "What's yer name, boyo?"

"That's for me to know, ain't it?" Valens replies to Lyri as he knocks back another shot, his speech not even showing a trace of slurring as he leaves the rest of the bread untouched. A wench walks behind Valens and runs a hand along his neck, as he reaches out and gives a soft, gentleman-ly kiss on her arm, "I'm busy. I'll be upstairs afterwhile..." he says with a slight smirk on his face as she departs from the scene, Valens tilts his head towards the left to crack his neck, filling yet another glass and downing that. "You know, it ain't safe getting drunk in this sort of company. You got a place to stay kid?"

Lyri tosses back another shot, plunking the shotglass down on the bar noisily. For all her slender frame, she seems to be holding her liquor exceedingly well so far. The brightness of her eyes has yet to diminish and her speech remains clear. Reaching for another bit of bread, she grins lopsidedly. "Told you, I ain't a kid. Don't need lookin' after. Besides, I think my bed probably has fewer parasites than yours would." Her contralto is lilting, almost teasing, as she pops the bread into her mouth.

Valens laughs as Lyri speaks, setting down the shotglass, not yet pouring himself a drink. "I like to think I keep a clean bed..." He says as he fingers the glass with his fingers, "I remember running in around in my days with my friends drinking and eating whatever we could, sleeping on the side of the street alleys. If I'm looking after ya, it's 'cause I was as young as you once. In today's world, a stranger offering help is a hard thing to run into, and more so for a stranger that doesn't want anything in return." He pours himself another drink, hesitates for a brief moment, before tipping the glass, drinking its contents.

"A sad, but true, fact, m'boyo." Lyri replies lightly, pouring herself another shot, but merely curling ink-stained fingers around it this time, without tossing it back right away. "And for that, 'm grateful for the offer. But 've never slept on the streets in my life and I don' intend to start now. My partner and I, we look after one 'nother. We can find work whenever we choose. Prob'ly have some already if I hadn't just gotten in ta town." At the end of that lengthy oratory, she finally tips back the shot in a leisurely fashion, the undulations of a slender throat marking the alcohol's passage.

A finger quickly, and more importantly, ever so softly, traces across Lyri's neck horizontally with a certain precision and grace unseen from the usual rough and tumble bar folk as Valens replies, "As long as I don't see you end up with your throat slit and your innards gutted by an angry sailor." His words are meant in jest by the tone of his words, but one can't help but detect a bit of earnestness. He takes another shot, this time without hesitation.

Lyri's chin jerks down in convulsive reaction to that gentle tracery, a wary gleam sparking in ocean-water eyes. Her hand tightens around the glass before she returns it to the bartop, shifting her weight to her other foot, an unconcious move slightly *away*. From Valens, one can assume. "Been in plenty o' brawls before. Anything got cut, I just healed it right back up again. 'S only good I ever got out of that pesky 'bility o' mine. But why d'ye care so much anyhow? Ye don't even know me." She grumps, reaching for the whiskey bottle.

"Oh no, you're right. I don't know you and I don't care about you..." Valens says firmly with an amused smirk, "But it is unpleasant for anyone to be in that sort of condition. Certainly it is unpleasant for a person like me to see." Setting down his glass, he shrugs and looks away, "A winged girl like you out here is like a golden calf left alone, waiting to be snatched away. Think yourself tough and strong, but things never quite work out the way you want them to..."

"What exactly ye tryin' to say, boyo? Jus' come on out and say it why don'tcha?" And here her speech is becoming sliiightly slurred, but only a hint. She's slowed way down on the shots, that's for sure. But she's still steady on her feet. "Ye look like ye know yer way around here anyhow. Maybe you know somethin' I don't." She pauses, eyes narrowing just a bit. "Fer that matter, ye know anything about the Amarada?"

Valens lets out a long exhale, seemingly ignoring your earlier words as the air fills with heavy vanilla and alcohol heat. He turns his head at the mention of the Amarada, taking some time to appraise Lyri for a moment, a gloved hand corking the whiskey, since it seems the alcohol is starting to hit her. "I heard it's here in Parnassus," he replies tersely.

Lyri arches a copper brow, her wings flaring and folding again in agitation, revealing splashes of earth tones painted onto some of the feathers in the white froth of her wings. "Well even /I/ knew that! But you must've heard something about the ship, mebbe its captain? A bit o' gossip, surely?" She prompts, reaching for the bottle, and frowning when she finds it corked. Slender finger pluck at the stopper but find it stuck too well for her inadequate strength.

Valens shrugs his shoulders as he faces Lyri once more, a shotglass in hand, "I heard the captain has wings. That the ship has been in the water for longer than I was born..." He quaffs the amber liquid down, wincing slightly as he says, "Take some time off, kid. The whiskey's gonna hit you a lot harder in a little bit. Doesn't build up like cheap ale - it's going to hit you like a sack of rocks." He sets the glass down, wrinkling his nose at the scent of cheap and probably a bit bad meat passing by the bar to one of the tables.

Lyri angles another glance at Valens before eyeing the bottle dubiously again. "Like a sack of rocks?" Another glance towards Valens. "You promise?" She plucks at the cork hopefully for another moment before abandoning it for the time being. Perhaps the conversation was worth pursuing before she continued with the drinking. Maybe. She'd give it another five minutes. "If ye call me kid one more time, I'm gonna /whack/ you with the bottle, boyo." She retorts warningly, leaning an elbow on the bar to eye him once more. "Ye heard anything more about the captain? Or about the /previous/ captain?"

Valens chuckles at the response, "I've been hit with far worse in my earlier years..." He tilts his head for a moment as he ponders Lyri's question. "Nothing terribly exciting. Something about pirates, the previous captain being killed, and there were some talk in Civitas Dei that the current captain seduced a noblewoman or something - I don't really do gossip," he responds after a brief pause, "I'm either at sea or out drinking. All I know is that the Amarada's captain is here, and he's gonna leave in a few, and that I ought to talk to him about maybe a job or something."

"Hmph, makes sense then." Lyri mutters to herself, tracing an old stain in the bartop idly as her eyes unfocus in a temporary reverie. A shout for more ale a few stools over brings her out of it with a shake of her head, the various ornaments adorning her dreadlocks clinking together. Angling a glance at Valens, she adds, "A job, huh? You plannin' on goin' with 'em on that long voyage there's been tell of? Sure was a lot of folk down at the docks lookin' to hire on."

"I might. The Amarada's got a good reputation... so far. Though from what I heard about the attack a few months ago, the captain's sailors did a piss poor job of fighting. I figure a little discipline and training will do them some good this time around..." Valens replies as he ponders his words for a moment, taking a pause to pour some more whiskey. His wings ruffle slightly at talk of a long voyage though, the faint perceptible breeze laced with a distant but pleasant scent of aromatic woods, rather than the common scent of brine, sweat, and tar as the other sailors. "Lares I hate the sea..." He mutters under his breath before taking another shot of whiskey.

Lyri arches a copper brow as that last whispered statement reaches her ears over the taunts and drawls and drunken slurs of the sailors and other riffraff around them. "You hate the sea? Are ya daft? How could anyone hate the /sea/?" Apparently it's something that Lyri just cannot fathom, despite being Empyrean and a creature of the air herself. And, of course, the real kicker: "And yer still willin' to sign on for a long journey at sea? What in Tyche's name would ye go and do that fer?"

Valens raises a brow, "Heh. The sea? What's to like about it? It moves and... moves. It's got all sorts of critters waitin' to snap at you if you make one mistake. The scent of brine - water water everywhere and not a bloody drop to drink!" He cracks his neck as he runs his fingers along the shotglass. Pondering Lyri's second question, his eyes slowly look up to the ceiling of the tavern, in contemplation. "Would you believe me if I said I needed the money?" He finally asks with a wry smirk on his face.

Lyri smirks lightly in response, beginning to pluck actively at the cork in her whiskey bottle once more. "Aye, I'd believe ye, but I'd still call you daft. Fer me, the sea is a lodestone, and I'm a magnet. I've hardly ever gone t' sleep without her music in my ears and in the last few years, there've been few mornings I haven't woken t' 'er rocking. She can be hard 'n' fierce or calm and gentle, just like a parent, or a lover. Such beauty and power and grace and yet we dare to think we've tamed 'er." Lyri shakes her head. "We haven't. But she lets us think we have. But you, boyo? Daring her when you care not fer 'er? I'd think there'd be plenty of *other* jobs for a man such as ye. A fighter, ain't'cha? Must be plenty in the Empyre, from the rumors I've heard."

"I always found it funny to find us winged folk actually enjoying the sea. I guess others would find me funny for being a man and holding my fists up or my swords, rather than running around like a coward with a bows, arrows, and spears..." Valens replies, setting the glass down with a soft clink on the semi-clean wood of the bar without taking another shot. He shakes his head slowly as he says slowly, "I dream of rolling hills and green fields, an endless sea of purple vineyards, and the wafting fragrance of orchards in the summertime..." He trails off for a moment, letting his words settle, "...But dreams are exactly what they are. Delusions and wild fantasies," he snaps, rather abruptly, his speech starting to have a hint of slurring, as the formalities of a shotglass gives way to taking a good swig from the bottle.

"Perhaps it is odd, or you'd find more pigeons at sea. Sure enough I've seen few of them, and only the Amarada's captain and his noblewoman of late. I myself am biased, to be sure." Lyri replies, reaching up to give the dark blue braid in her hair a sharp tug before tossing it back along her skull and giving the cork an equally strong tug. This time it pulls free. Reaching for her shotglass, she pours some of the whiskey into it, but doesn't drink it just yet. "But my dreams are of the sea and all she holds, along with my own ship, someday. I'm not thinkin' they're such delusions. Right attainable, actually. To each their own, eh? Swords and wine or whiskey and brine." She lifts the glass and gulps down the contents.

Valens settles down, or rather, smolders, as he takes another good swig of the bottle, "I may hate the sea, but I have nowhere else to go. Time will heal my wounds, return my birthright - or give me a wretched watery death. But as for right now, to fight destiny would be a futile fight," he slowly says as he raises a brow at Lyri for opening the bottle. Not really giving much attention, he simply lets out a deep sigh, scoffing a bit, "The Gods like to mock us, and they look down on us, thinking us stupid. But..." He raises his eyes up slightly towards the ceiling once more, "...When we mock them, they tremble more. In the end, it is us puny mortals that get the last laugh..." he quietly states, rather indignantly, finishing with another long swig.

"So what is it, then, that yer trying to tell yerself is funny? What is it yer seeking to have the last laugh about? This birthright o' yers? Stolen, was it? Older brother get what was comin' to you instead?" Lyri remarks with a surprising trace of bitterness as she plunks the shotglass down on the bar. She's in no hurry to pour another, as her cheeks are beginning to exhibit a warm flush and her eyes have gone slightly glassy.

"Even the greatest of mortals, sitting on their ivory thrones and smiling as if they were Gods in flesh, tremble when they are disobeyed. My birthright was sacrificed for the sake of my aging mother, and the woman I loved, but could not love me back as I did. I do not regret this, but the wound is raw and bloody as I pay for the sins not of my own..." Valens hisses as he finally gets up, taking a moment to regain his somewhat shaky footing, "Any more about me, and I will have to kill you," he says coldly as he gives Lyri a nod, "You ask too many questions..." He finally says, a slight smirk breaking on his solemn face.

The irrepressible, red-headed chit beside him merely laughs, unoffended at his steely warning. "Och, boyo, no one said you had to answer! Besides, if we're gonna be shipmates, don't ye think I have a right to know a little about one of the men guardin' m'back?" She inquires roughly, the alcohol beginning to slur her speech just a bit. She reaches for the whiskey bottle again with a shaky hand.

Valens chuckles softly as he forages for something in a pocket hidden in his cloak, "I'll do my work, and you can do whatever you'll do. Seems simple enough, eh?" Setting a glimmering gold denarius on the counter - worth almost a week's wage of a regular sailor, he reaches over and corks the bottle - harder this time, "Go get some rest kid. See you around..." he says with another nod to Lyri, slowly walking towards the stairs, stiffling a yawn as he quaffs down the rest of his bottle.

Lyri eyes the denarius and the man with equal amazement, but this time, she doesn't bother to uncork the bottle. Picking it up, she cradles it to her breast as she slips off her seat and, casting a last glance at the stairwell, stumbles unsteadily out the door, to a chorus of complaints of men whacked by unsteady wings.