|
Post by Avaritia on Apr 16, 2010 14:32:06 GMT -5
Setting : Some months short of a year ago inside of the Ramaras Inn & Tavern. Mid-afternoon with clear, late spring skies. Starting to get hot. Status : Open! --- The normal hustle-and-bustle of the Ramaras Inn & Tavern went on as always; people shouting orders, the lovely waitresses dashing to and fro with food and drinks for customers, bus boys cleaning up the messes left behind. It was a vicious, endless cycle, but damn, was it a good way to make money. Another group of customers streamed through the doors, some joining friends at a table, others waiting at the side to be seated. It was a full house. The door gave way one last time before it was allowed a rest for some time, a figure shrouded in a red scarf and a dirty tan cloak stepping through. Sand was ingrained into the person's red pants, remaining resilient in spite of any attempts they may have given to remove it. Either way, it didn't look to concern them much as they moved in quietly, standing in a dark corner. It was so cool, compared to the heat outside. One would think you'd get used to such things after walking through the desert so often? Oh, it was still a nice refuge. A feminine sigh came from under the red scarf. Bandaged hands dove into the pockets of the belt around the person's noticeable hips, fishing around for something- probably money. Wasn't hard to find, as a point was made to keep it reachable at all times- not so much for other people, at least. There it was. The hand returned, and just in time. One of the cute wenches came up, "Excuse me, can I get you a table?" A hoarse cough was the first answer, interrupting the reply. In a moment for recovery, a response came- a voice that was quite decidedly female. "That would be lovely, dear." The other girl nodded and was quick to escort her to a small table not far from the bar. Perfect place to be. As they walked, the woman pulled away the red scarf, red hair tumbling out of it and a round, tanned face showing through the mess. Those bandaged hands came out from under the cloak to pick at her hair, gently pulling it this way and that to get it just so. Their destination came faster than she expected, almost resulting in her tripping over the wooden table. She was quick to catch herself, turning it into a graceful fall into the chair. Oh? A cushion? That was new, and very nice. She smiled pleasantly up at the waitress, who...suddenly appeared to be gone. Damn. Her blue and hazel eyes scanned the room for signs of the girl, until they found her standing in front of a rowdy group of ragged men. Her eyes narrowed. Time to play a little waiting game, was it? Impatient as ever, she drummed her fingers on the table, idly looking around as she did so. Ah, hopefully the darling girl wouldn't take too long. Those men better not stir up any trouble, either.
|
|
Incarn
Inhabitant
eh wot
Posts: 22
|
Post by Incarn on Apr 16, 2010 21:06:09 GMT -5
Wilson was drinking a lot, being loud, using expletives when it wasn't necessary, and trying to flirt unsuccessfully with the darling waitress as the rowdy group of ragged men he was sitting with tried to figure out what they wanted to eat or drink aside from copious amounts of alcohol. As per normal for him, he was a skinny, rough-looking bastard and he wasn't hungry (well, maybe for some ladies, hahah!).
When the waitress gave him the cold shoulder he stopped with his flirting (maybe it was 'cause he hadn't shaved properly in a week so his awesome goatee was all messed up). And, aw, hell, his group was taking forever to order, maybe 'cause all of them were half-drunk. Seeing as how this was actually a bit, er, really annoying actually, he itched at a spot underneath his tattered bandanna headband thing.
Well. Wilson didn't know any of these poor bastards anyways, they'd been courteous enough to accept him in their drinking gang, and he was going to leave his bill for them to pay. Of course, he picked the pocket of the tipsy guy sitting next to him before getting up from the table and deciding to invade someone else's.
Some lady with red hair caught his eye and he swaggered over to join her, grinning crookedly and running tanned fingers through his spiky and oddly-colored greenish blond hair.
"Hello there," he greeted her boisterously as he sat down across from her. "What'cher name?" Wilson tugged idly on his stained shirt's ragged sleeve to hide the tip of a navy-black tattoo on his shoulder and then tangled his fingers together over the tabletop as he leaned forward on his elbows. He even threw in a hopefully disarming grin, but eh, it probably wouldn't work considering he looked way too... well, poor/roguish today. And he'd randomly walked up to her table and broke, like, fifty rules of etiquette. But manners were for sleaze-balls and he liked being able to go up and talk to anyone he pleased.
|
|
|
Post by Avaritia on Apr 18, 2010 2:47:17 GMT -5
Her brow furrowed slightly when the girl disappeared into the crowd. What a sad way to grow. Someone straying from their ranks caught her attention, however- a blonde-headed man, almost as rough as the rest of them. Although, at the same time, something was different. He was strange, either way, and a curious cautious eye was cast to him. Judging by his demeanor, he wanted something- and she could only guess what it could be.
The stranger approached the table, and she gave one last longing glance through the groups of people. The waitress wasn't to be seen. She sighed, disappointed, before addressing her full attention to the man who was suddenly sitting down.
A little smile was enough for the moment, tracing over her thin pink lips. While the guy might have been weird, he wasn't all bad, so far as she could tell. Might as well give him a chance to entertain her. The smile wasn't much, but it hopefully made clear that she was receptive to visitors at this hour. Maybe it and the alcohol would take her mind off of this dreadful heat.
"Some people call me Roaring Sidd, although that's one 'g' longer than my real name," she replied after a contemplative moment. She gave a little snort of bemusement- what a silly title, but she had to admit, it was kind of cool- before her fingers returned to drumming on the table. "So, are you from that group over there? My waitress kind of left me to tend to them, leaving me sad and boozeless." She stretched slightly, her gaze breaking away to look off at a corner of the room.
After a minute or two, her eyes slid back over to him, peering at him questioningly, "You wouldn't happen to have any, would you?" she asked, apparently undaunted by the concept of a stranger providing her with alcohol. "And while you're at it, now that I've given you my name, bold stranger, what's yours?"
|
|
Incarn
Inhabitant
eh wot
Posts: 22
|
Post by Incarn on Apr 18, 2010 3:27:49 GMT -5
"Cool," he drawled, "Hot name, there." And here he pitched his voice very low and gruff, and her name practically rolled out of his mouth like some sinful mix of chocolate and silk. "Roarin."
Then he laughed like a fool. See. He was kind of buzzed, okay? But not too buzzed.
"I was kinda with 'em, though," Wilson replied, itching at his face and staring boredly at the loud group. "I joined 'em like I did you, yeah? Just came up at random and sat myself down, and said, 'Hey, there, you folks look bored', and there were all 'yup, but booze is gonna fix this problem'. So I was all 'cool!' and then they got like that." He waved his hand at them in a disgusted way before shrugging and flexing his fingers over the tabletop. "Boozeless is bad, yeah," Wilson chirped, bumping his elbow into the table and hissing through his teeth a little. Okay, maybe he was more than just a little buzzed, okay.
"But uh no I ain't got any beer or somethin'. This isn't good. Not good at all. Aw, man, I left my beer on the other table. I forgot it." Wilson made a face at himself, then looked up and blinked up at Roarin as she asked his name. He drew a blank for a bit, grimaced and shook his head for a fraction of a second. "Uh. Wilson. Yeah." Then he grinned at Roarin.
"YO!" He yelled very loudly and suddenly. "NEEDA WAITRESS HERE, THIS FINE LADY AIN'T GOT A DRINK!"
That got someone's attention, for sure. Hahaha, he was helpful.
|
|
|
Post by Avaritia on Apr 22, 2010 12:33:30 GMT -5
She couldn't help but laugh with him, for the moment. By the way he'd said it, it seemed like he liked her name or something! How fascinating. The voice itself wasn't bad, either. She nodded gently as he spoke about his former group. "The way I see it, booze can bring out the best in some of us." She peered over at the obnoxiously loud group, though, and a frown creased her face. "But then again, it's not for everyone."
Wilson. So that was his name. She half expected something more exotic- gods knew there were some strange names floating around Nil'Cae...whatever this city was called. The fact that she could remember that much from the top of her head was nice, and that she even bothered to remember such things was probably better than what anyone from Flotsam could have said. What a bunch of idiots, she couldn't help but think, looking back on the either uneducated or extremely selfish residents of her home town. She shrugged to herself as she stretched out her hand.
His yell caught her somewhat off-guard, causing her to jerk her hand back slightly. "Haha, nice set of lungs you got there," she laughed, pausing to muffle a cough against her arm. Sadly, the same thing couldn't be said for hers, but she'd gotten used to it by now.
A waitress was very prompt to respond to the shouting, scurrying over. Roarin was admittedly disappointed when it wasn't the one from earlier, but beggars can't be choosers. This one was still relatively pretty- she had to admit, the proprietor had a fine eye for the ladies. Shame none of them would last if she tried to recruit them the way he did.
"I apologize for the wait," the woman said. "So, now that I'm here, is there anything I can get for you two?"
The red-head looked around again, trying to make up her mind. Perhaps she should have done that earlier? Too late to fret about that now, though. "I think I will have a bottle of wine, if you've got any. You usually do when I come here, as infrequent as my visits are." It was getting hot. She glanced down to notice that her cloak was still on. A likely candidate for why she felt so warm still, even after getting away from the sun. She paused to pull it off and hang it over her chair, and then glanced down again to make sure her corset hadn't come undone. It had done that once before- would have been quite embarrassing if it hadn't been for the fact it was only around the rest of her mercenary group. She gave a sigh of relief to see that everything was still quite intact.
"You can order anything you'd like, Wilson- nice to meet you, by the way- and I'll pay for it. I have a little too much money right now; might as well spend it before someone tries to steal it off me again."
|
|
Incarn
Inhabitant
eh wot
Posts: 22
|
Post by Incarn on Apr 22, 2010 16:48:35 GMT -5
"Definitely not for everyone," Wilson agreed, nodding wisely, "but definitely shouldn't be drank in large amounts. Even though it's um... really good."
He leaned back in his chair and burped into his hand to emphasize his point. He saw the offered handshake but after his yell he forgot to accept it, instead stifling a grin that nonetheless broke through into a crooked smirk.
When the waitress came over, Wilson contemplatively ran his fingers through his scruffy goatee. He definitely didn't need to drink much more unless he wanted to actually get drunk. He was toeing the kind of blurry line between tipsy and buzzed. Except that kind of blurry line was the edge of a table five feet away. Didn't he usually have good vision?
Wilson discreetly admired Roarin's figure as she shucked off her cloak. He especially liked that choker around her neck, but also noticed the bandages along her arms - so she was tough, probably.
Wilson snickered. Mainly because he was still delicately toeing the tipsy-buzzed line. And that last line Roarin said. Hahah. He hadn't decided if he should steal from her or not, but he was getting warning signs not to 'cause she wasn't someone to mess with. Still didn't stop him from considering it though.
"I'll just have some of that wine she's having, m'kay." Wilson said, examining the wood grain on the table briefly. Then he turned his full attention to the waitress and, feeling bored, flicked on the charm.
"Don't take too long, now, honey. I'll be missing your presence while you're gone." He smiled, all sincere-with-a-tinge-of-sexual, and was rewarded a comely little blush and a returned smile before she hurried the order along.
Hey, it was a good way to get orders done quicker. He knew how stuff worked, see.
"You sure you want to waste your money on some poor chump like me, sweetcheeks?" Wilson finally asked, leaning forward on the table again. His shirt sleeves rode up a little to show off a sun ray ring around his right arm; he tugged the sleeve back down to hide it yet again.
|
|
|
Post by Avaritia on May 26, 2010 16:05:18 GMT -5
A simple nod was really all that was needed. "Yeah, we're already stocked on supplies. Just made a killing- both literally and figuratively- on some jerk up north a ways. He'd holed up with a ton of his paid pals after kidnapping a couple of harem girls that belonged to a powerful Moren guy." She paused to laugh a little to herself, stifling a cough in the midst of it. "Turns out he didn't take too kindly to that, so he hired my gang to kill those guys. Said I could take anything they had, so long as the harem girls got out safely."
Another pause to stretch. What a convenient time to break from her story. The sweet waitress came back in a hurry, carrying two somewhat small bottles of wine and two glasses- not the dainty kind she saw sitting on a shelf, either, which was good. She didn't feel like being dainty with her cup. They looked sturdy enough, although not quite the same as the mugs. Good enough for her. Everything was placed down and set up quickly, admirably. This girl had been doing her job for a little while now, obviously! "Thanks, dumpling," she giggled to the wench, who actually seemed a little more focused on Wilson. Her eyes narrowed a little out of jealousy, but then she sighed in defeat. There was no helping it; not everyone would swing for her.
Rolling her shoulders, she reached for one of the bottles. They had bigger- these would only fill up three glasses, or so- but those were usually reserved for parties, couples. At least the waitress could distinguish that they weren't together. It was incredibly awkward whenever that happened.
"Anyway, as I was saying," she started again, pouring herself a little more than half a glass, "my guys, gals, and I were really careful. Made sure all of the girls got back to their owner safely. The guy kept his word, and we could keep all of the money, guns, weapons, and other toys that we found. Got a lot of stuff in fine condition, since they were just figuring out how to use their boom-sticks. Then there was their food and water supply, of course. So we're packed up, and pretty much just waiting on our next job- so yeah, I definitely have enough to spend on a poor chump like you, sweetheart. Don't you worry your pretty head about it." A hearty laugh reassured him that she was joking about the "poor chump" part.
Her story stopped again as she took a sip of the wine. Wasn't bad, but it definitely wasn't their best. Drinkable, either way- anything to get her mind off the heat, to relax.
"So I see I'm not the only one trying to hide something on my arms?" she observed nonchalantly in between a sip. "Might I ask what your dirty little secret is?"
|
|
Incarn
Inhabitant
eh wot
Posts: 22
|
Post by Incarn on May 26, 2010 20:28:46 GMT -5
Wilson made a note not to steal from her, then. He never thieved from mercernary types, and she was most certainly a mercenary type. It was one of those things you learned. Didn't mean he couldn't enjoy her company, though.
A harem, eh? That Moren guy sure knew how to live, he did. He grinned at the thought of one. And then she stretched and really, his eyes roamed completely and utterly of their own accord. Couldn't be his fault, no sir. She was a nice looking lady. Wilson tangled his fingers together and held his hands in front of his face to hide the suggestive little smile quirking at his lips. He didn't want to be that obvious, really. Even when half-drunk or tipsy or whatever.
He half-ignored the bottles of wine, only taking the time to bring one bottle closer and forget the cup completely (he was really beyond the point of caring). And oh! Was she trying to flirt with the waitress, too? Haha!
Wilson smiled at the wench and touched her lightly on the forearm, "Thank ya kindly," and he turned his attention back to Roarin and her story. That made him wonder what kinds of adventures she got into, and then that made him want to know her history so he could have yet another tale to tell and pass on and immortalize. But he pushed that want aside.
"Aah, you sound like you really are all set. You wouldn't mind sparin' more change for this poor chump so he could feed himself for the rest of the week, would ya?" He laughed along with Roarin, grabbing his bottle and smelling the wine it contained when he was done with his faint chuckles. Wilson never did have much of a like for wine. He could only stand, what, around four sips? Seriously, he was a hard liquor guy. The subtlety of wine usually didn't suit him, not at all.
He drank it anyways - straight from the bottle, mind you - as she asked her question, pausing for a noticeable second.
"Was from when I was a kid and thought I was a bigshot," Wilson replied, smiling easily. "Don't like it much nowadays. I gots lot more of them, too, and they're kinda weird since I was usually piss drunk when gettin' 'em." He stared vapidly at the grain of the table for a second before looking back up at his tablemate. "Well, I told my dirty secret - what's yers?"
|
|
|
Post by Avaritia on May 27, 2010 23:05:34 GMT -5
"Oh, sure thing, y' poor chump," she giggled. Her eyes narrowed again at him a bit- what a lucky punk! Hitting it off with the waitress. It was fast to fade to an amicable smile, though, an almost apologetic expression. "I'm probably carrying that on too far, aren't I? Sorry for that. Here," she paused, untying a small bag of gold from her belt and dropping it on the table in front of him. "This should make up for it. It'll buy you drinks for a week, of that I'm sure."
Roarin listened attentively to his short tale behind the tattoo. She remembered being a kid- didn't think she was a big shot, she knew after a few years. If the animals and gods or life in the fiercely polluted streets hadn't killed her yet, then nothing would have. Not back at home, anyway. Here? Here was different, but at least it was interesting different. The kind that kept her on her toes whenever she left the city, and even then some when she hadn't. Either way, her fate was inevitable. Maybe she'd choke to death on nothing, or maybe she'd go out guns blazing in a fight. That would be how she'd like it, but not everyone gets to pick how they died. Her thoughts were interrupted by another annoying, dry coughing fit.
She was fast to bury her face into her elbow out of courtesy to her company, muffling the noise. After a moment, the fit stopped as always, and she simply sat as such. Her arm moved away from her face to fetch her glass, and she bottomed the last of it. With a sigh, she fell back into her chair and sunk down a little.
"I see. Yeah, I know what that's like. Maybe I can see the rest of them, sometime?" she winked a little at him. Almost joking around when you flirted was fun. Some guys didn't know how to take it, though, poor things. She had to say something to break any potentially awkward silences after that spell.
"I'm afraid that the 'dirty little secrets' on my arms are no where near as interesting as yours." She stopped to begin unwrapping some of the bandage over her hand. As it came off, the imperfect skin beneath was shown. Scars and burn marks as far as the eye might care to see of them. "All these are are love bites from my guns- most of them, anyway. Guns are hard to come by around here, it seems, so we have to make our own, and I like to test them myself. My whole arm- both of them- are like this, from shoulder to hand. Only a few are from other things, but you can hardly even see those scratches anymore." Sometimes, she wondered what her skin would look like if she'd chosen a different life, one with less firearms. Or what her voice might sound like if it hadn't been ruined by pollutants. With a simple sigh, one of longing or dissatisfaction of some sort, she reapplied the bandages as they'd been before.
Having shown her own little "dirty secret," she got comfortable again, resting her head against her hands. "I wear the bandages to keep sand and dirt out of my wounds, mostly, and partially to keep people from asking a lot of questions or getting scared by the sight of me. It's funny, because the questions part doesn't usually go as planned." A small smile came back to her face, and she moved to pour herself another glass of the sweet stuff.
|
|
Incarn
Inhabitant
eh wot
Posts: 22
|
Post by Incarn on Jun 11, 2010 19:50:57 GMT -5
Wilson merely snickered at her reply, waving his hand dismissively when she tried to apologize. "Oh, sweetie, I've been called a lot worse." But then he blinked at the bag of gold. Hey, he hadn't actually thought she'd go through with it - he'd been joking. "Well thanks, then," and he took the small bag and pocketed it in a previously unseen pocket. "I'mma be partyin' all week, I am!" He celebrated with another quick sip of wine. It was obvious he wasn't trying to taste it.
Roarin seemed to be sick, or something, he noticed when she had her fit. He wanted to ask but also didn't feel much inclined to. Instead he itched his cheek - he needed to shave, 'cause his beard really was at that hella itchy stage.
"Certainly, madam, any time you want," he replied nonchalantly, studying the way the light filtered through his wine. "I have the body of a god, I do." He grinned big to show he was joking as well. Wilson was not physically fit enough to be considered godlike. He was skinny, and it was obvious.
He set the glass down to take his turn of listening attentively to her explanation over her arms. When Roarin revealed her hand he reached out and took it, turning over the hand and studying it contemplatively while she continued her story; he stopped soon enough before it ended. Guns... he'd only heard one or two stories about them. They were somewhat new if he recalled. They were ungodly loud, right? Yeah. Said to be heard for miles. Wilson wanted to hear one.
"That makes sense, it does," he said. "I don't get much of a choice with mine, really. I'd have to walk around shirtless, and the guards usually don't appreciate that 'cause they're prudes." Yes. Wilson did know this from experience. He was the one that liked to push rules just to learn how far he could push them.
|
|