The Loneliness of Dusk

[Laveriel]

The Loneliness of Dusk

89th of Glade, Year 123 of the Age of Steel

There were only the sounds of her footsteps as she entered the arena. The ends of her white robes brushed softly against the dirt floor, but she barely paid any mind to it. Relief flooded her veins as she confirmed that the place was empty.

Dawnhold was throwing a modest banquet in honor of their guests from Ailos as the skies grew dark. Anyone not actively on duty was invited. Unsurprisingly, most of the knights and aspirants had flocked to the celebration, leaving the rest of the town practically empty. With the long, long winter, no one would miss the chance for a bit of revelry.

Yet, Veriel had excused herself early - far earlier than what would have been considered polite. Her smile was faltering and her tongue struggled to form words. The conversations were a blur and she couldn’t count how many times she had lost track of when people were talking directly to her. The elf had caught herself staring at the spellforged commander almost the entire time. Asking why why why it couldn’t be him standing there instead? Why did the gods allow her to survive while Endrik Shiryo was dead and mutilated?

A demented thought - Veriel was well aware - but she couldn’t stop herself. It had been a while since she felt this out of sorts.

All these years Veriel had tried to heal the pain. Every time the grief came, she would tell herself that Ryo would want her to move on. That as the time passed, so would the heartbreak. She believed that she had finally gotten herself together. The siltori had set foot inside the Imperium, yet managed to drag herself out in order to fulfill Arcas’s request - instead of seeking revenge. That was proof enough that her anger had subsided, right?

But here she was, walking unsteadily with Novuril in hand. She barely even remembered she had gone to fetch the blade. Perhaps the wound hadn’t healed at all. She had just refused to look at it at some point, pretending it did not exist.

That night the weapon felt different in her hand. Strange and unbalanced. Alien. Perhaps it recognized the darkness in her thoughts. Perhaps it decided she wasn’t worthy, after all. Because would she give it away if she could have Ryo back? Veriel was ashamed of how easily the answer came.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t an option. All she had now was the blade and the cost it carried. The cruelest thing was, she was chosen to make all of it worth it. To prove that there was meaning in all of the deaths, in Ryo’s death.

Closing her eyes as the tears fell, Veriel took a basic stance - the exact one her kathar had taught her a century ago - and danced as light turned to dusk.

[Aegis]

An all too familiar voice rang out over the chilly night air. "How long will you continue to stay unbalanced, Laveriel?" She sat there, on a small pair of alabaster steps, and had been sitting there for some time, watching, listening. She rose, walking silently over toward the Wrath, her face in its stern, almost constant look of disappointment. "You're mimicking his style too much. You're dropping elbows trying to reach as he did, moving as though his wings are on your back."

For a moment, there was a hint of sadness in the Knight-Marshal's eyes, and if Laveriel dared to stop, or slow, "Do not. Fix your flaws and move forward." The Knight-Marshal prowled around Laveriel as she performed her kata, voicing her criticisms openly and regularly. "You are chopping like a butcher. You are not his muscle, you are grace. Flow like it."

Eventually, with an exhale of disgust, the Knight-Marshal stepped in under a strike, and caught Laveriel's wrist, firmly, but not to cause pain. She glared forward into Laveriel's eyes. "Stop living in his memory. You're better than that." She gave a firm push off, sending Laveriel back a few steps, "Strike me. Convince me you haven't grown soft in this..." She glanced around, "Perfect, unscarred sanctuary."

The Knight-Marshal did not draw a blade, but rather, settled back into a closed, unarmed stance, her eyelids sliding shut. She was unarmored, wearing little more than a layer of fur lined robes to keep the child of winter at bay. "Come for me as though I'm that bastard Kathar that has scarred your heart. If you can't, you'll never be able to find your justice one day." There was no malice, no teasing, no emotion in her voice, "That's an order."

A small group of lower ranked Dawnmartyrs and other inhabitants were forming at the far edges of the area, looking on curiously. Many of them were revelers, heading home from the welcome banquet, bellies full and livers floating. And most of them were northerners, born and bred, and were curious about this Knight-Marshal from the south, one of the few survivors of the Fall of Ailos, and she who stayed until the very end when the Imperium was finally crushed and driven out.

And they all knew that she, Knight-Marshal Si'uvi Tikor Neverfall of Ailos, gave the order for Laveriel to head north with Novuril to keep it from enemy hands, and gave the order for her lover to stay behind, ultimately to be slain.

[Laveriel]

Veriel froze at the sound of the knight-marshal’s voice. Of course she was the one who had to bear witness to her moment of weakness. It seemed like the Grim Lady would not let her wallow in grief and self-pity. Still, the siltori didn’t turn to look or answer the other knight. Instead, the elf focused on the instructions. It was easier to pretend that the marshal was another drill sergeant when Veriel didn’t look straight at her.

The siltori had no interest in hearing what Si’uvi had to say about what she had become. The knight-marshal had no right. None at all.

Unfortunately, the orkhan refused to let it go.

The elf cursed in her native tongue as she stumbled back, finally glaring at her commanding officer. “Am I better than that? What makes you think I’ll ever be balanced again?” she snapped. It was a question she had asked herself a million times, but never out loud before.

“A part- No, half of me died that day. My better half,” Veriel hissed as she lowered her blade. Even after nearly twenty years, there were no words for her to describe how it felt. The searing loss. The freezing grief. The gaping, hollow maw it left in her soul. “Everything feels wrong. Incomplete. Like I shouldn’t be here.” Like I should be dead.

Veriel wondered if the marshal ever got word. Of the things she did in an effort to douse the pain of losing Ryo. The suffering she inflicted on their enemies and, in turn, herself. The elf knew her exact limits and intentionally pushed past them. All in hopes of ending it.

Come for me as though I’m that bastard Kathar that has scarred your heart.

It was cruel. A cruel bait, especially after the knowledge that was to be given her earlier that day. Gritting her teeth, Veriel let Novuril go. The sheathed blade fell heavily on the ground beside her. Replacing it were Iratallin and Dawnstrife in each of her hands. Her witchmarks glowed softly under the moonlight, but her eyes were ablaze. “Stop living in his memory, you say?” she asked with a joyless laugh. “Do tell me exactly how I should do that when his wings are displayed as a decoration for those fucking Imperials.”

Two more blades materialized above her head and a shield was positioned on her side. Each of them was riddled with paralytic and aether-consuming curses. Perhaps it was an odd sight to those watching - the fact that she summoned five pact weapons to go against an unarmed opponent. They both wore no armor, but Veriel knew she was already at a disadvantage. Those who did not understand would be the ones who had never witnessed Si’uvi Neverfall in battle. The siltori had.

It would be foolish of Veriel to even dream of winning against her. Not back then, not now.

Nonetheless, an order was an order. With Dominion flowing through her veins, Veriel leaped and closed their distance, swords swinging.

[Aegis]

Knight-Marshal Neverfall was silent as the Wrath of Arcas replied. She waited until the elf came forward with her attacks. As the blades swung toward her, Neverfall skipped forward, sliding through the smallest of openings, the only opening, in the opening salvo, her hands raised, the blades now at her back. And she stood there for a half moment, her hands dropping, "Because you're the best of us. It is why Novuril chose you."

Neverfall knew the retaliation attacks were coming after the first miss. The blades chopped, stabbed, and swung toward her from several angles. The Orkhan spun on her heel with a grace that dancers could only hope to achieve, her hands reaching out, snatching two of the weapons from the air by their hilts, and with a flick of the wrists, parried the other three away, completing her spin to face Veriel once more.

Laveriel would instantly realize that she could no longer feel a connection to the blades in Neverfall's grasp. There was no flow of aether, through her Rune of Reaving nor through her Rune of Affliction. Where there had once been weapons and magic that were a part of her, now there was simply a phantom limb effect. Neverfall pointed one of the swords at Laveriel, "There are no half measures in death. You died that day. We all did."

Neverfall fell back into a combat stance, wielding a sword and dagger from Laveriel's own arsenal, seemingly unaffected by the cursed powers that ran through them. The Knight-Marshal closed her eyes, and kept them shut. "By learning to live in the light and to fight in the dark." Neverfall skipped backwards now, resetting their positions, but not yielding Laveriel's weapons, not opening her eyes. "You are imbalanced for you live in the darkness of his death, and you fight here in the light of his memory."

With the subtlest of a head tilt, Neverfall began her offensive now. She started forward, knife held high in a reverse grip, sword held low and pointed back and down. The remaining sword, shield, and spear were in Laveriel's control. As the Knight-Marshal approached with a speed that belayed her ability, two glints of light shone into Laveriel's eyes, bright, focused, and each from different angles. These glints were but momentary, though in that moment, nothing could be seen save for the light.

And when the moment passed, Neverfall was no longer in front of Laveriel. The sword came swinging up in a slash, looking to cleave from thigh to shoulder, her attack coming from behind and off to the side with frightening speed.

[Laveriel]

The best of us, Neverfal had said as she dodged the siltori’s assaults.

Veriel had a hard time believing that. As an aspirant, they almost didn’t allow her to be initiated. As a knight, she had lagged behind in terms of physical skills, whether it was strength or sportsmanship. Being an afflictionist had been her solution to that problem, but it was still something that she had always been insecure with. When they were hunted, the elf was not one of the hopeful ones. She didn’t seek out her fellow dawnmartyrs, isolating herself instead.

Laveriel d’Revrinti was no shining example of a dawnmartyr.

She spared a look at the legendary sword she had let fall on the ground. She had lost count of how many times she had asked the sword why. Unfortunately, the magical blade never deigned to answer.

"There are no half measures in death. You died that day. We all did."

“If that was true,” the elf mused as she watched Neverfall’s hands wrapped around her weapons. She braced for the shattering, but it never came. “It wouldn’t hurt this much. At least if I’m truly dead, I might see him again.” Veriel knew how it sounded, but she had no intention of ending her own life. Not when she finally had the name of the man who murdered Ryo.

The marshal had cut off her connection with Dolorex. It was an odd feeling. Her curses had always been at arm’s reach and no one had ever been able to sever that connection before. Most of her tightly knit curses were stored in the blade. She tested it, urging the aether there to reach for the orkhan. Nothing. If Veriel had to guess, her pact weapons were cut off using wards.

It was infuriating. “I don’t know how.” A shroud had fallen over her since that day and she didn’t know how to shake it off.

Veriel flinched at the light and by the time she could see, her opponent was nowhere in sight. Of course, she didn’t panic. If she wasn’t in front, then she was most likely behind her. The elf turned her head and saw the glinting blade slashing upward.

She let the attack land, at least for the briefest of moments. As soon as it made contact, Veriel pulled at the two afflictions she had planted in the blade, absorbing it into her own aether. While the elf had never learned Negation, she had spent enough time listening to Ryo ramble about his methods and hearing his thoughts as he planned out his use of the magic in battle. Just to be safe, she pulled at the pain from the cut on her thigh and wove them all into one - paralysis, pain, and aether-draining. It was better if she created something Neverfall hadn’t had the chance to study.

Her shield quickly moved, slamming into the blade to interrupt Neverfall’s swing. At the same time, her leg shot out as she spun as swiftly as her divine blessing would allow her, hoping to make contact. Even the slightest brush of her boot against her armor would have been enough. Enough for the tendrils of her newly brewed affliction to seize the marshal’s aether.

[Aegis]

As the blade cut into Laveriel's thigh, the curse weaving was successful through that temporary, painful connection. The shield came and stopped the second blade's attack, and Laveriel's kick came through swiftly, and for a brief moment, the woman felt the weight of contact, and the curse latched on.

And in that same moment, Neverfall was spinning away, leaving a shadowy version of herself in her place there. The kick tore through it, and the curse latched onto it. The tip of the sword the Knight Marshal wielded glowed intensely bright and she slashed the air between her and the shadow, severing the connection before skipping out of reach.

The shadow doppleganger froze, mostly, other than a slight vibration, twisted and contorted in a frozen scream for many long moments before whatever magic gave it form faded and the entire being poofed out of existence. Neverfall was slack, nodding, tossing Laveriel's weapons across the space between them, allowing them to fall back into the woman's control.

"I've seen enough." She walked forward toward Laveriel, "Your skills and magic have grown greatly since Ailos. You are deadlier and more refined than you ever were." She sighed, "But like me, like many of us from there, you are weighed down by that shadow." She offered an elbow, "Come, let us walk, and speak." She then looked down at Novuril laying across the stones, "But please do not disrespect the blade like that before me. You know how many lives were lost to bring that here."

If Laveriel noticed now, there beneath the moonslight, Neverfall's shadow returned, and it carried a sword that was not in her own hand. The Knight Marshal smiled, "I'd like to see what life you've made for yourself here." A somber nod, "I suspect the love you carry for Ryo, for the Hope you two built together, of a world at peace, of friends aplenty," a knowing glance at Laveriel's stomach, "A family. That Hope I think is what called in your time of need to Novuril."

If the offered elbow was taken, she'd allow Laveriel to take the lead and guide her through Dawnhold. "Do you have many civilians here as Ailos once did? Do the Dawnmartyrs here take them for lovers and friends and family as well?"

A sly grin, "And is there a place we can find something good to drink?"

[Laveriel]

Her lips quirked when she felt her foot making contact with the Knight-Marshal. As the affliction flowed through her, something interesting happened. A shadow took her place as she moved away. Neverfall seemed unaffected by the jinx.

“You should teach me that trick,” the siltori said lightly as she eyed the shadow creature the marshal had created. As Neverfall threw her weapons back, Veriel dematerialized them before they fell to the ground. Fortunately, their fight was very brief and there was barely any impact that she needed to absorb.

She shrugged as she turned at the crowd that had gathered earlier. Noticing her gaze on them, they frantically dispersed themselves. “You’re being generous, but I suppose constantly being hunted down does teach me some things.”

At the marshal’s comment about the sword, Veriel gave her an apologetic smile. “It felt terrible, you know, the first few days. Sure, the moment the blade claimed me, it was… electrifying, but then it soon felt wrong,” she breathed as she picked up the blade. Even sheathed, the moment she touched it, the sword hummed with power. She brushed away the dirt off the sheathe gently with her hand. “It felt like I traded everyone’s life that day to become the wielder of this sword. They died while I got the famous Dawnblade and a fancy new title.” She slung the strap over her shoulder, the familiar weight of the legendary blade resting on her back. Things had improved, but she couldn’t deny that there were days when she could hardly look at the weapon.

Veriel looked at Neverfall with a raised eyebrow as she took the offered arm. Gone was the teary-eyed woman from moments ago. The brief fight had helped gather composure, her mind finding balance in the familiar violence. “If that was the case, maybe Arcas should have appointed me his Champion of Hope instead of Justice.” Her talk about hope felt like a searing hot knife through her chest. Any hope she had for love and family was extinguished the moment Ryo was ripped away from her. The siltori didn’t miss the orkhan’s meaningful look, but Veriel turned away and pretended to be focused on leading her out of the arena.

Fortunately, the knight-marshal continued with questions that were much easier to respond to. “Not yet, though more flock to Dawnhold each day,” Veriel said as she led them through the streets. “I think people can’t help being drawn to the idea of a god who is so present in our world.”

When the orkhan asked about a place to drink, Veriel smiled. “That’s an excellent idea. It’s been what? Nearly twenty years since we drank together?”

She continued as they walked. “Most of the dawnmartyrs I have encountered are recruits from the North, so they have their own friends and families to bring here. As far as I can tell, they mingle freely with the Kalzaserns.” As if to prove her point, a group of avialae walked past them, laughing and shoving each other.

Finally, the siltori stopped in front of a two-story white-stone building. It wasn’t a particularly special tavern, but she had found herself frequenting it rather than any other place. Warm yellowish light shone from the windows while a ruckus of people talking and guffawing escaped the open door. Once she entered, a few of the barmaids greeted her with familiarity.

“Lady Laveriel! I was getting worried, it’s been days since you last were here!” Hergin chortled as she passed the bar, setting down a glass in front of a party of young women who were taunting one of their friends to flirt with another patron. The bar owner was a big man, thanks to the fact that he was an elephant Rathari, and had a hobby of infuriating her whenever he deemed appropriate.

“You’re making me sound like a drunkard in front of my guest!“ she grumbled as she glared at him. “And for the hundredth time, stop calling me lady!”

Veriel then picked a booth that was further from most of the rowdier patrons. One of the barmaids soon approached their table. The woman would take Neverfall’s order first before turning to the siltori. “The usual?”

She shook her head. “I’ll need something stronger tonight. Surprise me.”

[Aegis]

Neverfall nodded, "Yes, he's very present in the lives of his followers. Here." There was some bitterness there, with no attempt at hiding it.

As they walked arm in arm, Neverfall listened, and her eyes searched. Her face was a storm of conflicting emotions, taking in the beauty and peace of this world unravaged by war, mingling with the pain and regret of not saving her own. She was happy for the Kalzaserns and heart broken for her own people. And soon, they found their watering hole.

An eyebrow raised at 'Lady Laveriel' followed by a hint of a teasing smile. That one wouldn't be forgotten. Neverfall's eyes fell upon the Rathari barowner and her lips pursed a bit. As the barmaid approached, "Make me something I can tell my friends back home about." As the barmaid turned to Laveriel, Neverfall interrupted her, "And have the big man bring it over." An extra coin given for an extra duty. The barmaid smiled in surprise at both of them. "I got just the thing."

She bounced off toward the bar. Neverfall rested her chin in a palm, elbow on the table, "I have some at looking forward to this night. It's... been a while since I've taken the time to relax." A wolfish grin, "But it seems the Lady here has been relaxing rather often."

Her other hand was idly tapping her fingertips against the table top, "Are you happy here? It sounds like you've been all in on your duties to the Order and Arcas, but have not found a life here. No bonds to comfort, no arms for shelter." Her face was soft, softer than it had been since her arrival, she knew those pains too well herself.

But soon, some heavy footsteps arrived, lumbering over, and set two very brightly colored drinks down, swirling in what was clearly some alchemically wonderful cocktail. "Hello, Ladies. Two Hergin's Specials here." He turned a bit toward Neverfall, "I hope your liver is strong, this one here," a thumb jabbed in Laveriel's direction, "Has a tendency to close the place down with me." A teasing smile grew on his lips, one that was answered by a feral hunger in Neverfall's eyes, "Who do you think she learned it from?" She cocked her head in Laveriel's direction, smiling devilishly.



Hergin looked surprised, "Oh, an old friend of the Lady's. That's new." He looked over at Laveriel, a slight nod of appreciation, "Well it's my pleasure to meet you..."

"Si'uvi Tikor Neverfall," she said with heavy lids and eyes clearly sizing him up.

And for the first time in Laveriel's time here, she saw Hergin blush, "Well... enjoy your drinks, and if you need anything, just holler for Old Hergy." And as he turned to walk back to his bar, there would be a noticeable skip in his step, and the man was smoothing his beard now. Neverfall picked up her class, "Beautiful." She offered it up to Laveriel, casting a direct gaze on the woman in the Ecithian custom, "Chi'uvio." And with that, clinked her glass to Laveriel's, and took a long drink. It was a swirl of fruity, sweet, sour, spicy, but never stayed as one single flavor. Always changing. And the alcohol couldn't be noticed at all. Both of Neverfall's eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise.

"Absolutely wonderful."

She took another long drink, setting it down, "Have you ever considered coming home? With Arcas returned, he can protect the north, and you're always welcomed in Ailos and the Commonwealth. We're still rebuilding, of course, but it is still home if you ever want it. You can return with us if you'd like." She looked down into her drink, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't say such things now. Not when we could be catching up. It's just..."

We both have known so much pain.

[Laveriel]

“If it makes you feel better, he barely tells me anything,” Veriel said lightly, trying to brighten the mood. She knew what the orkhan woman meant though. The beautiful buildings surrounding them right now… they were painful reminders of what Ailos had been - what it should have been. “The divine is still as mysterious as ever, even when they walk among us.”

At the marshal’s question, Veriel wondered herself. Was she happy? She should be happier than she had been since she left Ailos. The dawnmartyr finally had a safe and permanent place to sleep in. She was surrounded by allies and people who looked at her with respect. Veriel was fine. Things could be much worse.

“Most of the time I don’t exactly settle anywhere long enough to make friends,” Veriel said with a shrug, looking at Hergin who was bounding towards them with a big grin on his face. Once he placed the drinks in front of them, she couldn’t help but comment jokingly, “Yet, this is the first time you’ve ever made me your special. I’m truly hurt.”

“No bonds to comfort, no arms for shelter.”

Veriel gave the orkhan woman a wry smile. “I try to stay away from people in general, especially dawnmartyrs.” She learned the hard way about what sort of misfortune she could bring down to her comrades - an entire village had been wiped out before just because she got too comfortable. Isolation was the only solution. “I have a bigger target on my back compared to most, so it didn’t seem fair to bring that sort of attention to anyone else. We just keep to ourselves mostly, Valron - I mean, Laelithar - and I.” For fifteen years, even until now, he had been the singular constant in her life and the only one she would never doubt. Everyone else, well… being hunted had a funny side effect of making one a bit paranoid.

“Handsome gentleman,” Hergin chimed in one more time as he walked away from the table, giving a knowing look at Veriel. “Very reliable. He’ll come in like clockwork to carry this old lady home.”

The siltori scowled. “That’s because you always snitch on me.” She playfully shooed him away with her hand. “Alright alright, I think you’ve aired enough of my dirty laundry for one night.”

Once the rathari left with a satisfied grin, Veriel turned back to her old friend. “Even when things finally quieted down, the habit is hard to shake off, I guess. I’m terrible at making friends now.” Not that she had ever been really good at it, admittedly. It was hard honestly, to blend in. When these people looked at the glowing white stones and golden ornaments, they saw hope and planned for the future, while all Veriel could think about was what she had lost.

As for love, well… Veriel couldn’t even try without being drowned by guilt. So she just avoided it. Unable to help herself, the siltori took a big swig from the mug in front of her. Neverfall was right. It did taste quite impressive.

“Have you ever considered coming home? With Arcas returned, he can protect the north, and you're always welcomed in Ailos and the Commonwealth. We're still rebuilding, of course, but it is still home if you ever want it. You can return with us if you'd like.”

“No, it’s fine.” Veriel smiled as her gaze wandered far, to a place oceans away. She could still picture it in her mind. The bright blue sea glistening under the golden lights of Dawn Peak. The dark wings of gryphons dotting the skies. The endless libraries where Ryo would probably spend nights if she hadn’t dragged him out. “Always. I never imagined that I would have the chance to return, though.”

“If I go back now, what if it turns the Imperium’s attention to Ailos again?” she asked quietly, staring down at the mesmerizing colors of Hergin’s Special. Novuril and the artifacts they covet would be in one place once more. “Do you think they would dare attack us again? With Arcas reborn?” As soon as she finished the question, the dawnmartyr realized it was a dumb one. They had captured Talon before - of course, they would attack if they wanted to.

“Even worrying about all that, I still really want to see him,” the captain admitted, her voice breaking almost imperceptibly at the end of her sentence. She should have been there, held him as the last of his warmth left this world. Instead, Veriel had flown away, watching his body drained of its life and mutilated. After a few moments of silence, the elven woman decided, “Maybe I’ll go with you after the coronation. Just for a little while at least. It’d be nice to see Ecith again. Everything is so cold here.”

[Aegis]

Before Neverfall spoke again, a soft and gentle wind formed around the two women, circling about them. And for this brief moment, the noise of the tavern fell away, and all Laveriel would be able to hear was Neverfall and her own voice. "The Emperor will return for Ailos. He did not get what he came for. It is still safe with us, but he still desires it, of that I'm sure." When she was finished the wind dissipated and the sounds around them returned, and no one around seemed to have even noticed that anything was amiss.

Neverfall looked into her drink sadly, "If they come anytime soon, it won't be like last time. We're too broken in Ailos, the Commonwealth a shadow of itself and plagued with its own problems. Not sure if they've realized it yet." She sighed, "There needs to be a different option than fight or run. There has to be. The Dawnmartyrs can't survive if that is all we will ever know."

Neverfall smiled softly, "If Arcas allows it, we're going to build a portal from Dawnhold to Ailos. Might take a while to construct, but it might be nice for some of our people to see a beauty beyond that living in their haunted memories."

She leaned back, drink in hand now, taking regular draws off of it. "How is this man? Not the god, but the man, Talon? From what I've gathered, he's not been on the pleasant end of Fate lately, with being captured, with his father killed, his home attacked, and so many other things. Did you know him before he became Arcas? What sort of man is he?"

It was a curiosity, not one of judgment or scorn, but an attempt to finally understand more of the god that almost none in the Order had ever met. The previous Arcas was gone long ago, and the Order went for so long without him. "Is he a warrior? A prince? A scribe? I saw that he only has the one mate, which is very unusual in this part of the world."

She went silent for a bit, to allow Laveriel to speak. Then, color flushed in her cheeks after a few more drinks. This Special was real strong. "You remember Ourha? Flew you out of Ailos with a baby strapped to her chest?" A hiccup and another drink, "That baby is all grown up now, and dropping old, deep magic in the Commonwealth's Senate. You should look her up when you make it back."

A heavy thump of an empty glass on the table as Neverfall stood up, offering a hand to Laveriel. She gave a pull, towing the woman after her. They passed the bartender, and Neverfall smiled at him, "Two more waiting for us when we get back." She pulled Laveriel into the back area of the tavern, spotting a troubadour there burying himself in his glass. Neverfall went right up to him, "Oy. Put on something we can dance to." The man raised an eyebrow suspiciously and Neverfall rolled her eyes, tossing coins into his drink. And with that, he scrambled to get himself on his stool with his lyre and he started up a beat, when Neverfall interrupted. "We're from the south, the real south. Speed it up."

All eyes were on them now, as Neverfall spun Laveriel to face her, "Remember those hot and humid nights under the stars, all of us just dancing until dawn rose on the island?" A wink was given as Neverfall used just a bit of her magic to sneak some steam into the fires of the hearths, raising the heat and humidity of the tavern. "For the rest of the night, we're under the stars once more, just waiting for dawn to greet us."