(no subject)

[fluffiest_archadian]

[OOMs: In the spirit of interdimensional cooperation, Sherral takes Jay to Rabanastre, before they set off to find the Leviathan. After a tangle with some bandits, they settle down for the night, and later head into the Zertinan Caverns.

They emerge into the Nam-Yensa Sandsea, and after an eventful tangle with Rozarrians and the undead, return to Rabanastre. Later, they also return to the Bar.

Warnings for violence in OOMs 2 through 4, and adult content in the last two OOMs.

Millitimed to some time. Some time loosely around now, sort of, give or take indeterminate quantities of time.]

After returning to the bar, Sherral has proceeded to - spend more time out of the bar, mostly.

Vayne has received orders to return to Archades, and a new Consul has arrived in preparation for Vayne's departure. Sherral hasn't seen much of him yet, but he has a file. It's not a file he likes.

He and the file, who for its bulk and severity he has named Noah Filebranth, are currently seated at the bar, enjoying a glass of mead with an orange slice clumsily placed upon the rim of the glass.

Comments

[is_the_motion]

"What drink is that?" asks a lady with a trace of a black eye from further down the bar.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Mead," Sherral says. "It was either that or tea, all things being as they are."

He pauses, peering at her. "Are you quite all right, ma'am?"

[is_the_motion]

"I never tried that one." Bonnie orders a glass from Bar and sniffs it experimentally.

"I took offence to some fellas who came ter my house askin' fer my son to give 'em some money or let 'em break his legs. They got off a hell of a lot worse than me."

[fluffiest_archadian]

It smells of - well, honey, mostly, as mead does.

"... Worse as in dead?" Sherral asks, a little curiously.

[is_the_motion]

"Hell no, I ain't killed nobody." Bonnie says. "If I wanted ter kill someone I'd have used the fryin' pan rather than a chair. They're a little bruised I'd say."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Ah. In the custody of law enforcement officials, as well?"

[is_the_motion]

"Not yet." Bonnie says. "They're gettin' a visit from forty bikers when I go back, one of which is an undercover cop."

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral squints.

"I profess, I'm unsure what a biker is."

[is_the_motion]

"Someone who rides a motorbike?" Bonnie tries.

"You must have seen a bike, right?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

He shakes his head slowly.

[is_the_motion]

"How do you get around in your world?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Large predatory birds."

[is_the_motion]

"...sweet!"

Bonnie sips her mead.

"A bike is a bit of metal with two wheels you pedal to move around. A motorbike has a motor to turn the wheels so you don't got to pedal."

[herr_bookman]

"That file looks ghastly," Autor says, with a small smirk for the poor soul who has to do paperwork. "What are you reading? Also, hello."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"The military record of a new Consul," Sherral says, sliding it to one side. "Evening, Autor. Would you like some - well, I don't recall you partaking of alcohol, so maybe not mead."

[herr_bookman]

"Ooh. Interesting. And you recall correctly," Autor says, surprised and grateful. He leans on the table and folds his arms, as relaxed as he ever gets. "Tea, if you don't mind. The rats know how I like it. How have you been, Sherral?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral flags down a waitrat and orders some tea for Autor. It scurries off, and Sherral lifts an eyebrow a shade, flicking open Noah Filebranth without looking at it.

"Somewhat busy. We found the Leviathan. And blew it up. How have you been?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor's drawn to the file for a moment, but refocuses his attention on Sherral's face in short order.

"Was it an arduous trip? How are the navy's men shaping up?" he asks, of course getting his questions in before answering his own. "And I've been all right, thanks for asking. I was sick for a spell back at home, but have since recovered."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"It was a surprisingly riddled-with-obstacles trip. There were bandits. We had to pass through the Zertinan Caverns. Rozarrians," he said, lifting one shoulder. "What were you sick with?"

[herr_bookman]

"Intriguing," Autor says, adjusting his glasses. "I hope you soundly thrashed all of them. And, oh, it was just a run-of-the-mill flu. I tend to avoid the bar's diseases and catch normal ones at home."

He pauses to collect his tea from the rat, and thanks Sherral before taking a sip. "How is your progress coming with your Quickenings?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"There was some thrashing involved. Jay, who is a patron here, came along and was of great use in that regard," Sherral says.

He pauses, then wryly lifts a finger. "Still only one. But I've had some practice with it - on that mission alone, even."

[herr_bookman]

"Really!" Autor says, raising his brows. "I've met Jay, once. I never thought he'd be thrashing Rozzarians, though he's certainly suited to it."

He dips his head politely. "Ah, my mistake. I am glad you were able to practice. Still relying on your magicite swords?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Aye. They've proven fairly effective in combat," he says. "Especially in combination, although I try not to combine them too often."

[herr_bookman]

Autor grins at him, and nods. "You'd run out of Mist that way," he says. "Perhaps you could show me a demonstration sometime."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Whenever you so will," Sherral says, inclining his head. "I've little other use for them, at the moment."