Mirtul 18 1370 dr

[child_of_bhaal]

Who: Syeira and YOU
Broadcast: Nope
Action: Varric's bar on the Iskaulit mostly
When: Directly after the shuffle.



She has been checking on the roster listing nearly compulsively lately. Things have just been rough for her. Losses upon losses. Regaining Anders, only for her friend to not know her. It piles up on top of everything else.

Everything else being Sam falling into a sleep only to wake and nearly do something horrible to Cas. And she got to take a lovely swim in Sam's blood for that, a delightful bonus to her kill deprived self. And then Sam is hurt, again, on her watch. Cas fell into a sleep immediately after. She's been ill from the planet nearly all the time. Coil had a melt down. Arthur turned into a tiny teenager. And of course, Robin revealed to her she not only had a Calibration, but when he was in it, he saw her murder her own mother.

She had asked Robin not to shut her out again. That was the mistake. She'd admitted her fragility out loud where Atroma could over hear it. She'd told him she couldn't stand to lose any more friends. And now he's just gone. Removed, like so many others. And she quite simply cannot take one more bit of horrible without doing something about it. But there's nothing to fight. She's not going to trash her room. The thing that's left is rather obvious.

She goes to the Iskaulit, to the tavern that feels like one from home. She has a small pouch full of credits. She managed to pull out enough that the pouch weighs at least five pound. There's a hefty amount of money in it. This she takes directly to whoever is tending the bar, places it purposefully down on the counter, and gives them a dead serious, almost empty look.

"I would like to drink, until I physically cannot anymore, or the money runs out. Whichever comes first." And by the look of things, the money won't be what runs out first. "If it's the former, please feel free to keep whatever is left over for your troubles." Because she imagines it will be annoying to shove her out into the hall when she's fall down drunk.

And with that, she will start drinking. There's dedication in it, because she wants to obliterate everything in her head. Blot it all out until all that's left is alcohol poisoning.

[ooc: Feel free to tag her at any time during this. And please note, she did not notice Zhas has returned to the fleet, and I request that no one tells her. Thank you!]

Comments

[dontthinkaboutelephants]

It takes him a while to find her. It seems like he searched everywhere. But finally he looks on the Iskaulit, and there she is at the bar, looking miserable and completely drunk. He knows it's been tough on her lately. He wanders over to her, refraining from touching her until he knows it's okay.

"Syeira."

He hasn't seen her since he woke up an adult. His hair is slicked back like normal, and he's wearing a soft t-shirt with a cardigan and jeans. It was a rather crazy few days, being a teenager. He's still not feeling right, but he knows he needs to be there for her.

[child_of_bhaal]

She has been drinking for a while. A long while. And it shows. Her head has become way too heavy for her neck to support it on its own, so she has to support it on something. The something of the moment is her tankard. So when Arthur speaks her name, she sits up and there is a nice circle indentation, slightly moist, on her forehead.

She blinks at him, because it is really bright in there somehow. Far brighter than when she came in. "Arthur? Hi." She makes an attempt to enunciate, which showcases her slurred speech.

[dontthinkaboutelephants]

Arthur smiles fondly, with a bit of pain in it. He puts a hand on her shoulder, gentle and warm. "Can we go back to the Red Fish?"

He knows if she's going to talk, it's not going to be here.

[child_of_bhaal]

"Not if they're still willing to fill my cup, no." That was the deal struck, and she liked her end of it.

She gives him a long look, eyes so squinted they are nearly shut.

"You got grown up again. Good, thass good. Looks nicer on you."

[bythewaves]

Softly, a tune drifts slowly across the bar, sweet and sad, winding around her in offered comfort.

[child_of_bhaal]

She's not far enough into her cups yet for her to be stupid about the music. Oh she's plenty drunk enough to listen, pluck out the tune in mumbled nonsense words that drop off half here, and a bit there, occasionally hum a bit. Not out of tune, but a bit off on the timing for sure.

It's lovely music. But being both sweet and sad, well it pairs beautifully with how she's already feeling, and coaxes her right along in her drinking. She's a lady determined, and not much is going to lift her spirits tonight. Well, aside from the spirits in her cup of course.

[bythewaves]

The music curls around her, coaxing, a tug at her arm, nudge to her side.

Here. Over here.

A tug at her attention, to where the bard sits, watching her with knowing eyes, as grey as the stormy sea.

[child_of_bhaal]

Now she is drunk enough to be puzzled by invisible tugs on her person. She looks at her arm and rubs at it, frowning. She's being... Charmed, she realizes. But she's a Torillian half-elf, which makes it harder to do to her, even if she's inebriated. Of course, if Maglor really tried, instead of this coaxing gentleness, she'd probably float to him like a cartoon character she has no reference for, so this simile is incomplete.

Still she looks up in the direction he wants anyway, and goodness Arda elves are beautiful. And shiny. She just looks for a few moments. Half because he's just that lovely (not quite as breathtaking as Finrod, but close), and half because she's feeling the alcohol and it muddles her thinking process.

Then she blinks rapidly, takes up her cup, and walks over to him. Like he apparently wants. She's still steady enough on her feet, she doesn't make a fool of herself. Give her time though.

"You know, you could just call my name. It's easier than magic."

[namisan]

The problem with asking such things of the bartender is that the bartender will eye the money (albeit gleefully), squint at it, then look back at Syeira with a carefully blank look.

"You can drink until we'd naturally cut you off," she says bluntly. "That'll have to do."

Alcohol poisoning is not a great look for any bar. And Nami has no wish to see Syeira that far gone.

[child_of_bhaal]

"I certainly hope it's not at the same level for everyone. I'm no dwarf, but I can go quite the long time." She summons a smile that is thin as a razor. She likes Nami. Nami is nice to her, and they have a good, if still fresh and delicate, friendship forming. She'd rather not have to fight over this. Just let her drink, Nami.

[namisan]

"Then you can drink for quite the long time. Don't worry about that part." She notes the thinness of the smile, but then she wouldn't expect any less. To make such a request at a bar means things aren't exactly going great.

Nami slides a drink across to her-- the kind she's no doubt made for Sye a whole lot before-- and the blankness softens out. She's concerned, that's all.

"Rough day, huh?"

[child_of_bhaal]

"To say the least, my friend." She is too sober to have any kind of conversation about it. She takes the drink, lifts it to take a hearty swallow. It tastes like alcohol. That'll work. "Just so I know, are you going to ask me for details?"

[apurrstate]

Varric had given him an open invitation to his bar and Anders' newfound freedom meant he was going to take the dwarf up on it. He didn't expect a familiar face beyond Varric's when he first walked in, however.

The woman at the bar looked less than pleased with life and the healer in him couldn't simply walk away and pretend he hadn't noticed. Maybe he couldn't help (expect maybe with the impending hangover) but he could at least try.

Considering the fact he'd clearly hurt her with the fact he wasn't the Anders from before, he felt he owed her that much. He moved to the seat next to her and plopped down, choosing to avoid the very drink he'd come here for in favor of his new company for now. "Rough day?"

[child_of_bhaal]

That's two people to ask her that. Gosh, she must have really let down the mask of 'everything is fine c8' tonight. Which is the point.

"Hello, Anders." She tries to give him a smile, but it's thin as new ice, and just as fragile. Do not press on it. "I gave over all my money in advance, or I'd buy you a drink. Apologies."

[apurrstate]

"Not to worry, fair lady, I probably don't have much business actually drinking much when I'm still so unfamiliar with everything here. With my luck, I'd find the exit door and end up in space and dead, which would be very unpleasant."

Which begged the question why he was here at all if not to drink, but he side-stepped it in favor of leaning against the bar with one arm to face her instead. "I do have to wonder why you would give all your money over in advance. I suppose you don't need a reason, people get fall-down drunk all the time back home, you just didn't strike me as the type." Of course, in his mind, the 'type' was someone like Oghren, but still.

"Special occasion?"

[child_of_bhaal]

"No occasion, just overdue to blot out my whole existence with drink for a night. The advance payment was a sign of commitment. And a bribe." So they'd let her get obliteratedly (it's a word now, shush) plastered. "I've actually never gotten as drunk as I intend to get, so you never know how I might inconvenience. It's always best to apologize in advance for these things, I think."

Action this is late, but I don't care

[faithfulwisdom]

[It's not terribly long before Syeira has company. Finrod sits down beside her, setting his own drink on the table, and gives her a concerned look.]

It is better not to drink alone, my friend.

You're never late to my posts

[child_of_bhaal]

"What if alone is how you feel?" It's blunt, for Finrod. He knows her truth, even if he doesn't have the details of her latest reveal. Here's one of the safest people she has. So he gets bluntness.

[faithfulwisdom]

"All the more reason to seek out company. To let those who care for you alleviate that, if they can."

[kickingand]

Dean knows what it is to drink until you can't drink anymore, knows how it feels to want to drown yourself until you can't see the things you so badly want to forget. It's not as if there was nearly enough booze back home to manage that on any sort of regular basis save for Cas and his absinthe but even that seemed a privilege. Running from Croat's while drunk was never a good thing and so relaxation found in an empty bottle of whiskey was something that came less often than a blue moon.

But Dean has been kicked out of enough bars now that the Iskaulit is where he heads for the first time. It's one of the few places left and he tells himself he might as well try not to cause a ruckus, lest he end up with nowhere to go and while he hardly has enough money to spend on a vast quantity of liquor, he still wants to sink into a glass or two.

The first bar he finds is one he walks into, hesitating for a moment, gaze narrowing as he observes the scene before him. It's only then that he sees a familiar face and while he's not entirely here to converse, to continue the process of making acquaintances, she is on his ship after all and they've already spoken. Which makes it by far easier to continue to do so. And so finally he makes his way over, pausing nearby with his head cocked slightly, expression stony, distant but still questioning.

"Got room for two?"

[child_of_bhaal]

Syeira would have to be truly beyond repair to send someone away. And the fact that he asks, rather than assumes or ushes in, has an added effect of feeling respected. If she said no thanks, he would likely accept it without insult.

So she reaches out and pulls the seat beside her back in offer. "Always room for more. Please." She gestures to the chair.

[kickingand]

Once upon a time, Dean might've simply hopped up next to her and gone to town. Invaded her space like the classy guy he was and tried to make her feel better with a certain kind of immediacy. But like this, Dean is fully aware of his penchant for not being the best company. And so he knows that asking is the only way to go, at least to save himself from being blamed for being an asshole.

With the offering, Dean slides easily into the seat next to her, leans forward against the countertop and glances sideways. "Trying to drown yourself?" He knows the signs.

[lord_wizard]

The Iskaulit was the closest the fleet got to a true common area - a crossroads where even in the bleakest stretches of space they could still meet in safety. Even still, there are many corners left unexplored or ignored in favor of others.

Felix doesn't usually walk into Varric's bar on purpose. He feels a bit more at home in Malum, when the mood to have a drink or two strikes. But the ship is still a small place, and the location of the bars more or less across the hall from each other makes it easy to spot Syeira's flame-haired profile from the outside.

He strolls in with a smile, not yet noticing she's a few cups into her intended binge.

"I might have to rethink my bar of choice, if this place gets so much patronage."

He won't, actually. But it makes for a good opener.

[child_of_bhaal]

She likes Varric's place because it feels like her own world. Less sharp and clean, more rough and real. Beer and other alcohol would be spilled onto the floor here, and seep in, leaving a real mark of people passing through, bear the scars of life.

She looks up, hearing a familiar voice, and while Felix smiles, she gives him a very watered down version back. She's just not up for a full on pretense of being fine. Hence, why she's here, doing what she's doing.

"It's not hard to be popular when you're serving up distraction to a bunch of trapped, bored, occasionally miserable folk." Not that she doesn't like the bar here. But really there's a reason taverns usually do well.

[lord_wizard]

It's true this place veers closer to the familiar for him, but in most cases Felix prefers to avoid memories of his old life, especially the part prior to his life in the Mirador. He didn't want to acknowledge his scars.

"It true. We are very much a captive clientele in that regard."

He leans against the bar and eyes her keenly. "Which of those three are you today?" he asks, even if the answer seems obvious. It seems a less direct way to ask what is wrong.