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[Patrick]

Ashan 52 718, Evening

Location: The Four in Hand

Ah Scalvoris! Quite a most unusually seductive place for one as rebellious as Patrick, the Rharnian had suspected it to be rather boring at first but in all honesty; it did present a certain charm unlike any other part of the world. Between Ne'haer which seemed to be all about religious mumbo-jumbo and Etzos who were completely the opposite, there almost seemed be nothing like the place called home anywhere on the map. Sure Rharne had it's quirks but no matter where he roamed, Patrick would never find a place anywhere that piqued his interest well enough. Probably because his trip here had been completely unplanned for the most part, and without any real inclination of what to do he just enjoyed his time here.

Time spent doing what any real Rharnian would do best; drinking, gambling, and even whoring himself into a stupor. Although admittedly that last part wasn't something he'd quite indulged in so diligently. With good reason considering... Well he'd rather not remember the metallic rod used to secure his sanctity as a clean man. Now of course he did nothing more than drink and enjoy the stories some of the fisher folk told, he had actually heard quite a few interesting things about the area. There were unusual creatures he'd never heard of that some swore they saw, but dreaded to ever approach for whatever pitiful excuse. Then he also heard tales of visits to other places on the island, the popular one being that of Almund where debauchery seemed more prominent there.

Debauchery was what Patrick liked though.

Yet even though he did nothing but listen to these stories of interesting things, he never quite found himself enthralled with the idea of exploring honestly. Perhaps it was just the setting or mood of the tavern tonight or maybe just something in the air, but Patrick definitely didn't feel the urgent need to explore new territory. Last time he did that... well let's just say the discovery he came across led to horrors he'd never want to remember. Indeed Pat had much more important things to think about, like how the hell he was going to guarantee his own brother's revival after two arcs. Oh yeah! Just think of how one moment you think your brother is dead and gone, and the next some wicked doctor happens to be a chaperon for lingering souls! Honestly Patrick hand't the slightest clue how he could deal with these things.

Clearly the best tool for the job was booze. And that's why places like the Four in Hand were his favorite joints to hit up! Though the evening had came around quicker than he expected to, Patrick sat almost by his lonesome were he not aware Dominek lingered near him. With boots propped on the table top the Rharnian remained kicked back in his chair, eyes on one of the few empty chairs that accompanied him there. With a quiet sigh he tilted the heavy bottle of rum he'd purchased from the barkeeper, it's contents almost already consumed after a couple of large gulps. After the sweet burn of alcohol went down and briefly returned with a kick, Patrick belched unwittingly with another look at the chair to his left. "You're no fun." He mused as though someone were there, the bottle yet again raised to take another swig.

[Max]

Back on her feet and with a new system to keep her nightmares at bay, Max was beginning to feel a bit more in control of her own sanity. Sure, she wasn't sleeping and her mind was still heavily plagued by a compulsion toward revenge, but at least half-conscious visions wouldn't likely put the sleep-deprived woman in a position where she'd mistake another tavern patron for her nemesis. The Ambrosia she'd recently smoked left her filled with an unnatural energy she knew would keep her alert for days. Pupils dilated and mind clearer than ever before, Max settled into a seat in the corner of the Four in Hand.

The tavern that doubled as a casino had decidedly become her new haunt in Scalvoris Town. Cally's was too refined, the Knight's Rest overtly restrained, and the Scholar's Nook too...academic. The rougher types from humbler backgrounds had been a more receptive crowd to her anti-Element rhetoric. Her time was best spent where she could rally allies to her cause. Though she'd settled with a bottle of rum at her table, her plans to re-ignite rebellious sentiments were certainly not put to bed. It had been a while since she'd attempted to sit back and really enjoy herself. She could afford a few quiet moments to stew in her anger and enjoy a drink before she made her move.

Speaking of enjoying oneself, the man seated behind her seemed to be doing just that. His feet were carelessly up upon his otherwise empty table. The bottle of rum he toted was a robust one, and yet when he settled himself down and lifted it to his lips, he put away most of the bottle within a couple trills. The spectacle was enough to make Max's eyebrows raise in appreciation. The Rusalka was several shots deep as it were. This man, however, was on a whole different level. She turned her head to peer over her shoulder in time to watch the stranger pointedly address the empty chair beside him.

"That was impressive," Maxine commended the man aloud, leaning back in her own chair with her bottle in hand. "Somehow you don't seem drunk enough to be talking to imaginary drinking companions though." The Mixed Race tipped the rum back to gulp down the alcohol she craved. The burn was a more welcomed sensation than a consequence one suffered to get drunk at this point. She was feeling the internal tug-o-war between Ambrosia and rum, the two substances making their opposing demands. Max was no newcomer to crossfading. If she felt the alcohol yanking her too down, she could always try to balance herself back out with another joint. The question was never how she'd counteract one effect or another. It was whether she had the restraint and awareness to do it.

"Are you just crazy?" her attention moved back to inquire the man. It was perhaps the most hypocritical thing she could've him anyone that cycle. After all, wasn't she the one being haunted by a man she hadn't seen since Cylus?

[Amaris]

- common / murnasian

It was becoming increasingly common to find the silver haired mixed blood bobbing in and out of bars, tending to one aftermath of a violent encounters after another. Perhaps it had to do with the tension felt with the investigations ongoing. It didn’t mean they had much right to take out their frustrations on one another. Heaving a sigh, they entered yet another, though for once it had not been due to a disturbance. A drink - perhaps something nonalcoholic - and maybe a moment of rest.

They dropped down into a seat at a table that had seemed empty from a distance, but from the angle they now sat, found to be inhabited. Proper etiquette in general would have had them ask before taking a seat, and even as they turned to look across at the familiar face, an apology was on their tongue. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to just sit myself down.” They made motions to stand, pausing only as they’d realized that Max had been in the midst of starting conversation with someone else. Yet another blunder. Maybe it would have been a better idea to walk home and attempt sleep.

“Forgive me for interrupting your conversation,” they murmured, no longer sure if they should sit or move. It would likely be nothing in terms of noise if they moved compared to the lively state of the bar itself. It was a wonder anyone could hear themselves over each other, clamoring to get their words out.

While they did know Max, Amaris was not certain they’d ever seen the man she spoke with before. Then again, they didn’t often frequent bars, and this man seemed right at home with his feet up on the table. Terrible manners, but he seemed comfortable. Like he belonged. Good for him, they supposed.

[Patrick]

At his personal musing over the fact his brother was probably sitting there watching, he couldn't help but smirk as he imagined the reaction it warranted. Did Dom laugh or shrug? Or did he antagonize the little brother like he normally would? It was getting weird to think that the man was there all the time now, but somehow that just reassured Patrick he still wasn't as alone as he thought he was. Least... not when it came to a silent guardian. Still he couldn't help but lowly belch as he looked down at the bottle in his hand, then over to another who addressed him from a separate table. Hello beautiful! Those were some lusciously vibrant lips the girl had on her, Patrick definitely liked the look of this particular individual.

"Not even close love." He remarked with a cheeky grin shot to her when she remarked over his personal comment, indeed he had neglected to remember the wise words that Faith told him the other Trial. 'Best to not try talking to a ghost in public' or so the point of the lesson was, since Patrick clearly lacked the tact to worry that others may saw. Indeed one would think a man deranged or near crazy if he talked to nothing but air, and most often Patrick wondered if maybe he fallen borderline on one of those two. "I can't tell you what I am." The Rharnian retorted with an even bigger grin, amused with the fact this girl seemed to have a knack for being straightforward.

Interesting. Patrick always liked coming across a girl that knew what she liked, as well as happily bound to say or do as she pleased. There was a profound respect for that in all honesty, as he too enjoyed the personal gratification found in such freedom. Yet his own freedom had proven quite limited over the past Arc, what with his lingering condition as a walking cursed pet to the Immortal of Lust and Fury. "I can tell you though that the secret to a healthy diet is booze, every Trial with every meal and you'll be able to down bottles like nothing." He embellished with a finger pointed to the woman, just before he tilted the bottle to kill what remained of the sweet tasting liquor as it washed down. "Can't even say I'm drunk honestly." He bragged with a shrug as he sat the emptied bottle on the table, his eyes briefly shot up to the bar as he debated getting another.

That was when... she walked across his vision. A rather spectacularly tall and fetching woman, as attractive as the woman who insinuated him being crazy earlier. "Holy shit she is.... tall." He admired with wide eyes as she took a seat with the woman, although she seemed to change her mind with an apology to add. Was she... always this polite and proper about her self? That wouldn't do. "Wait!" He called to her with a hand gestured for her to stay. "Stick around love. I got this." And with that he got up to stroll right to the bar, determined to not just buy another drink... but two. He requested two more bottles of the rum, as well as six shot glasses, so that when given he would return to their table with a glint of mischief in his eye.

"What say we have a bit of fun together?" He insisted as he walked a little crooked to the table, as Patrick might've been a little more tipsy than he let on. "Always fun to be had when drinking is involved." So what would they decide? There were still six shot glasses waiting to be filled, and two bottles of rum waiting to be emptied. Plus another if the shorter of the three wanted share her personal bottle.

[Max]

Maxine's lips pursed in mirth at the man's reply. Plenty of men could drink, and drink quite a lot. Fewer made it look so very easy. While Scalvoris Town was one currently wracked with tension and unrealized turmoil, the stranger didn't appear to have a single care in the world. Part of her was envious of his reality. Just a couple seasons ago they would've been one and the same, living day-to-day and bottle-to-bottle. She suspected that he too preferred a life that was hard and fast. There was a recklessness about him that she recognized, and when he shared that bit about a boozy diet, Max couldn't resist raising her bottle in agreement

"Now that's something I can drink to," the Rusalka said to the flirty stranger with a friendly raise of her brows, the bottle coming back to her lips. More of that precious rum cascaded down her thirsty throat. So focused on the relief of the substance, Max almost didn't spot the towering councilor when they made their way toward her table. Almost. Amaris carelessly seated them self in the chair across from the Rusalka, the latter which slowly lowered her bottle from her face in surprise. "Didn't think this was your scene, Councilor," Max greeted Amaris just as the strange man all but leaped over to join the table. He was far quicker to the draw than she was in stopping Amaris's departure, rushing out a plea before he'd disappeared toward the bar. A selfish smirk crossed Max's expression.

Free booze? I'll take advantage of that.

"No injured crows here," Max teased Amaris, leaning against the back of her chair while her hand stayed clutching her rum bottle. "But he's right. Stay." Her caramel eyes glanced toward the bar in time to watch the man return with hands full. He might've boasted he was still stone-cold sober, but the way in which he walked suggested anything but. She nodded toward him as he approached the table, offering a devious grin toward the all-business Councilor. "This is about to get fun."

The shot glasses were set down and Max didn't even wait. Her bottle eased forward to fill each one up in turn. A mischievous gleam came to her eyes when she looked to her new drinking companions. "The man knows what he's talking about," Max always agreed with such statements regarding the fun of alcohol. Good or bad, these three were about to have a time. Finished filling the glasses, she set her bottle down noisily upon the center of their table. "I propose a drinking game."

But which one?

The Rusalka looked to the foolhardy man to one side, and then to the comparably up-tight politician on her other. An idea came to her mind that made her scoff to herself. Her mind nearly warned her not to follow the path she'd chosen, but as always, the woman was one that was quick to challenge. "It's easy," she opened up her game suggestion with a falsely innocent shrug. "Truth or Dare...but with a twist. You refuse to complete your dare or truthfully answer a question? Drink." It was time to find out just what these two in her midst were made of. Suspecting the quieter of the pair would be more hesitant to jump in, Max cast her gaze toward Amaris first with her provoking grin. "We'll even let you go first." She shifted her attention then to the man in turn. "What do you say?"

[Amaris]

- common / murnasian

The outburst of the man a table back was enough to have them drop back down in their seat, glancing over to Max. The two had been in the midst of some conversation and perhaps were more acquainted, but they didn’t think there was much reason for him to want them to stay. “No crows, but many a broken nose tonight.” Doing as was requested, they remained, getting slightly more comfortable in their seat. It was a trill or two of fussing with their Order cloak before they leaned back a bit. Fun? Perhaps they needed a bit of it, but Amaris wasn’t quite sure what they had in mind would align with Max and this stranger, who returned with drinks in hand.

They wouldn’t count themselves a heavy drinker - or a drinker at all. Eyeing the shot glasses, their gaze flickered between the woman and man before brows furrowed. They had been right in assuming the meaning of fun to be different for each respective party. Another trill of considering leaving came over them; they’d seen what a drink could do to a person, chasing one after the other. They didn’t much like the idea of ending up the same way. Lips pursed, they dropped their attention instead to the table rather than the glasses. Just get up and leave. But that would be rude on their part. They’d been invited to stay and had already accepted doing so.

Games, they could handle. Tutoring children in the arc prior had found it necessary to break for such things. Drinking games, however, were an entirely different realm. Max proposed one that seemed easy enough, but also mildly invasive and likely to include some dares that would consist of more than the careless entering of oh deer territory they’d once done as a child. Amaris was now more wholy reconsidering this little experience. “I’m not so sure I should,” they stated, brows still drawn.

Of course, this could go a number of ways. It could be a pleasant experience or it could be a not so pleasant one. That would be entirely up to how they looked at it, right? “Maybe...I will go first.” They slouched further, glancing up at the shot glasses, bottles, and their two new drinking companions. Drinking companions; they hadn’t expected that upon walking in.

[Patrick]

The lips of the Rharnian could only curve to their highest point at the recognition of fun, evidently the fellow drinker and he had more in common than he initially realized. When he sat everything down on the table he watched her fill the shot glasses already, using her own bottle first rather than one of the two he bought.

"Good," He recognized with amusement in his eyes, "she's in the spirit of sharing just like a true Rharnian." At that point he took a seat at the table with them and, almost in an enthused fashion, pulled his two shot glasses towards him eagerly. He might've been a little too eager to start honestly, but when you sit around all Trial waiting for nothing to happen; then something like this was certainly worth being excited over.

"A game is it now? I quite like games." He cheered fervently with a lean into his chair, an arm thrown back to rest over it. Patrick honestly couldn't elaborate on just how much he liked games, but generally when booze became involved they were his favorite. Probably because alcohol was the main factor involved, which when that was the case anything could happen in terms of fun.

Patrick was never the type to play it safe anyways, which was why he always found trouble where he went. "Sounds like my kinda fun, I like it already love." He encouraged with a wink as he looked to the taller woman, hazel eyes curiously on her as he held a shot glass between fingers and thumb. Part of him almost wanted to just go ahead and drink the liquid down and be done with it, but that would only ruin the fun to be had with the game now wouldn't it.

The darker tinted broad seemed less invested as her angular features displayed uncertainty, even at the notion that they could have the first call in their soon to be night of fun. "C'mon now, first turn's always the best advantage you can get." He encouraged while an index finger tapped against the rim of his glass. Sure enough he shot her a smirk when she seemed to reluctantly give in, saying that she would go ahead and be the first to break the ice after all.

"Awesome, let's get thundered then! Who do you choose for your first victim?" The Rharnian encouraged as he evidently wanted to be the first to drink, unlike the two here he considered Nappers he had confidence in his drinking capacity.

Off Topic

Rharnian Slang:
Thundered
"Thundered" is the equivalent of wasted or hammered and is often used interchangeably.

Napper
Used to refer to a lightweight drinker, meaning that it doesn't take much alcohol for them to be passed-out drunk.

[Max]

There were two very different types of people seated on either side of her. On the one hand, there was Councilor Amaris. They had a heart of gold as far as Max could tell. They were a healer of both animals and people.

The Rusalka believed Amaris to be a poor politician, but she'd meant just the opposite of disrespect in thinking that. No aura of greed, corruption, or malicious intent surrounded this councilor. While Max still firmly thought members of the council to have been behind the cultist plot, her instincts suggested Amaris was about as innocent as Kura Wolfsdotter. After all, given the look in their eyes, Max could plainly see the reluctance to play the game written upon the councilor's face. This was not so for the man.

The foreigner seemed more than thrilled at the prospect of this endeavor. His eyes were alight with near-childish excitement, filled shot glasses already herded into his possession. His eagerness was palpable. Part of her wondered if he might start declining participation for an excuse to drink. She'd hardly be able to blame him. The two of them apparently agreed that the sober life was horribly overrated.

"That's the spirit," Max encouraged Amaris the moment they reluctantly agreed to partake in the drinking game. She grabbed one of the shots, threw it back, and refilled it with more rum. Reckless or not, the last thing she wanted to do was break her buzz. "Have at it, Councilor." She leaned back in her chair, raising a challenging brow in wait. Her lips twitched with curious mirth. "Do your worst."

The stranger had been right about one thing: the first to go had the advantage. The first round always seemed to set the tone for the game. Whether or not they stuck to that set standard as it progressed, however, was another story entirely. Lucky for Amaris, they had the edge already considering they had joined this table stone-cold sober.

Max was not a woman who enjoyed the concept of losing. She'd drink until the liquor put her on the floor if that was what it took. The man was a worthy adversary when it came to tolerance and volume consumption. This was about to turn into an interesting night indeed.

[Amaris]

- common / murnasian

Both Max and their new acquaintance seemed to think that the mixed blood now had the upper hand by choosing first. They were more inclined to think otherwise in their own case. But that didn’t much matter to the two, now did it? Something told them the others would have had just as much fun drinking without them and this little game Max had contrived. The woman, as far as they knew, had come across as one with an inclination to drink, if the manner of their first meeting had been anything to go by.

Concerning the stranger, they weren’t so sure. He did look to be quite eager to down the shot currently in hand, all grins and casual terms of endearment. They supposed thundered was slang for something - getting hopelessly drunk, most likely - but weren’t entirely sure. However, they weren’t keen on making of a fool of themselves by asking for what he’d meant and kept quiet on that matter. But, now they were left with choosing who they might subject to a truth or a dare.

It wasn’t a terribly hard decision. Either person would have been likely to choose a dare; alcohol made people reckless, fearless and they’d want to test that out. The mixed blood could only see that as being the option most worthy for the pair seated with them. Taking in a breath, they glanced between the two before turning fully to the man. “Truth or dare?” From what they remembered the original game, truth was always invasive and left them feeling exposed. Dare filled them with the buzz of anticipation, and later the sickening churn of their stomach as they considered their miscalculation. They wondered, very briefly, if the man would think of something similar.

Then again, Amaris did not muchh give off the possibility of being capable of anything too exciting. That had been clear enough when Max had first greeted them, voicing her surprise. But they had already given in to the pressures of their companions and they would need to live up to the expectations, no matter how low they were likely set. There was also the matter of the promise they’d made to themselves; after all, they needed to live this borrowed life to the fullest lest they slip into the disappointment they had been before.

And so, they waited as the man gave his answer, not as visibly eager to please as they were. Though, they must admit that they were having a bit of a difficult time thinking of dares or questions in advance. Perhaps they would ask where he was from or have him do something related to his place of origin.

[Basilisk]

As the night progressed, the drinking got started, and a small group formed, Patrick never noticed he was being watched. It wasn't until the game started and the first choser spoke up that a fourth person joined the table, sitting close to Patrick. "I do hope you don't mind my joining in. You all looked like you were having such fun that I couldn't help but join in." the woman purred. Long, curly hair the color of a dark wine, a pale skinned voluptuous body that was just about squeezed into a low cut red dress, her general attitude, one could be mistaken for thinking the woman was looking for a companion for the night. Then they would notice her eyes, dark amber and dangerous. They looked more like Maxine's eyes than those of any of the hookers or whores on Scalvoris. "After all, I've known Patrick for a long time and he's gotten awfully boring lately. We should liven him up a bit, shouldn't we?" she said in that purring tone.

As she spoke, Patrick could feel a tail wrapping around one of his legs, like the tail Syroa was commonly described as having. She have him a look that spoke volumes, though whether it was malicious or just playful would depend on whether the person looking at her knew of their past connection. "Don't get too excited though, big boy. We wouldn't want a repeat of last time, now would we?" she said, her tone clearly hinting at their last meeting. Then Syroa turned to the other two women and smiled disarmingly. "We met in Rharne, he got drunk and was throwing beer bottles all over the place, got the knights sicced on him, even." she said, laughing cheerfully.

Sitting up straight, though one could see by the way she was facing that she was paying slightly more attention to Patrick than either Maxine or Amaris, she smiled easily. "My name is Rayso, by the way. I doubt this big lug here would have remembered to introduce me if I didn't do it myself, but he doesn't mean anything by it. He just gets so caught up in memories. Anyway, councilor Amaris, I believe you chose Patrick, yes?" she said, before looking at the man she had cursed. "So what's it to be?" she asked cheerfully.

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