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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | Members of Cobalt Company and various associates cross paths at the Wintergarde Inn in the wake of the Wrathgate. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
Arc: Wrathgate
[Sintha]: Sintha surveys the tables and pauses at the sight of Zath. She arches a brow, and then sashays toward his table.
[Zath]: Zath greets her by raising a glass of whiskey in her direction. He all but has a literal storm cloud hanging over his head.
[Sintha]: She drops comfortably into the chair across from his. "Captain. I am assuming my brother is not dead? Unless you are drowning your sorrows."
[Zath]: "I do not believe he has perished, no," he says easily. "If he were, it would not be whiskey I were drowning myself in."
[Sintha]: "Oh, gosh, who would have known you for such a romantic, Captain?"
[Bertrand]: Bertrand wanders over, hands in his pockets.
Sintha glances up at Bertrand and brightens.
[Bertrand]: "Hey." Bertrand hesitates, looking between Tyrrell and Sintha. "Hanging in there?"
[Zath]: Zath looks up and at the sight of Bertrand a slight and involuntary smile comes to his face. "Sgt. Aspenwood. Whiskey?"
[Averlena]: Lena walks down the stairs, deep in thought, but her expression sharpens as she recognizes a voice below.
[Bertrand]: "Absolutely. Whiskey kind of a day. Thanks." Bertrand takes the spot by the wall next to Zath.
[Auralind]: Auralind wanders through to the back bar. Finding no one tending it, she growls audibly, her shoulders tensing.
[Dane]: Atley can be heard engaging in casual conversation with soldiers outside. It's a small sequence of growling voices before he bids a gruff farewell and starts marching, loudly, towards the inn.
[Zath]: Zath gestures to a server. "Another glass." When it is brought he fills it from the bottle next to him and slides it over to Bertrand. "You are a sight for sore eyes, friend."
[Sintha]: Sintha eyes the new glass for Bertrand, eyes the bottle, eyes Zath. She raises a brow.
[Bertrand]: Bertrand takes it. "Cheers. S'cuse me, could we get a few more glasses? Not to leave you out, Lady Sintha."
[Sintha]: "Thank you, Lord Bertrand, aren't you a gentleman?"
[Averlena]: Lena walks over and pauses by the table, a bland, polite expression on her face. "Lady Sintha, Captain Tyrrell, I hope you're holding up." She glances at Bertrand, not quite placing him.
[Sintha]: Sintha turns and smiles immediately and breezily up at Lena. "Miss Coit, darling."
[Azizia]: Azizia enters the inn, wearing a more practical outfit then she's used to, with no jewelry if for the decorative chains on her fingerless gloves. Her only accessory is a bandana covering her hair. She immediately falls into a chair, sighing.
[Dane]: Atley marches inside and scans his surroundings with heavy, but fierce eyes. He grunts faintly in acknowledgement.
[Zath]: Zath does a very peculiar and unZathlike thing — he impulsively reaches his arm out toward Lena, as though to catch her hand, though she is too far away. He aborts the gesture and lets his arm fall again. "Miss Coit," he says. "Whiskey?"
[Averlena]: Lena looks at his arm curiously, but doesn't ask. She says, "Sure, if I won't crowd the three of you? I could pull up a chair."
[Bertrand]: Bertrand smiles at Sintha, then at Lena. "Please, go right ahead."
[Zath]: "Yes, please, I think there's one unoccupied there—" He points for Lena's benefit toward an empty chair nearby.
[Azizia]: Azizia turns around quickly, accidentally pushing her chair back with a loud noise, as she hears the name of 'Miss Coit'. She turns back around and lowers her head, hoping to not be seen.
[Dane]: Atley spots Auralind from across the way and stomps over. He grunts once he comes up along side her. "Where are they, then?"
[Auralind]: Auralind starts to turn from the bar with a glower on her face, pausing when she hears Dane. "Eh…what? Who?"
[Dane]: Atley grunts and nods ahead. "The tender. Buggered off, I warrant." He side-eyes Auralind as he promptly rounds the counter. "Wot' do you fancy."
[Auralind]: "I do not know. Stepped away…probably." Her ears twitches, following Dane's footsteps. "I do not think they would —" She sighs. Screw it. "Anything."
[Dane]: "I've a mind for milk at present," he growls, sifting through bottles.
[Dane]: "S'wine here." He swipes up a bottle, and a milk chug, likely chilled by arcane tinkering. He collects them both in a single hand before commandeering a pair of mugs. "M'not seeing anything of elvish origin." He returns to Auralind's side and sets a mug and a wine bottle before her on the counter.
[Auralind]: Auralind waves a hand. "It is fine. I just do not wish to be sober… even if I must drink swill."
[Dane]: Atley tongues the inside of his cheek before he clicks his teeth, nodding to the wine. "That'll do it, then." He pours himself some milk with a long, drawn out growl.
[Auralind]: Auralind slides her hands along the bar, feeling around until she finds the bottle and mug. Putting one finger in the mug, she fills it until she can feel it is full, then takes a heavy swig.
[Averlena]: Lena goes and drags a chair over to the table, sliding it in the long side between Sintha on her left and Bertrand and Tyrrell on her right.
Bertrand smiles at Lena. "Bertrand Aspenwood. I don't think we've met."
[Zath]: "Your Commodore is recovering nicely," Zath says conversationally to Lena.
[Bertrand]: "Oh! Good, I was going to ask."
[Averlena]: "That's good to hear," Lena says, glancing from Zath to Sintha. "Wasn't sure why he was so insistent on going inland, anyway."
[Zath]: Zath looks down at his glass at Lena's comment, as though something New and Terrible has just appeared there. Whatever it is, he drinks it.
[Sintha]: "He had obligations, Miss Coit, naturally." Sintha's tone is cool and not totally approving. The target of her disapproval is ambiguous.
[Averlena]: Lena presses her lips together, watching the others at the table for clues as to the lay of the land here. The map to the grief.
[Bertrand]: The server brings Zath's table a few more glasses, as requested.
[Zath]: Zath has gone quiet, and is now just focusing on drinking.
[Azizia]: Azizia passes a hand through her hair as she hears Dane's voice. Everyone is here today. Great. She gets up from her chair and peaks behind the wall, observing her surroundings.
[Bertrand]: "How's Sil?" Bertrand asks Zath.
[Zath]: "Utterly wretched." He takes another drink.
[Bertrand]: Bertrand sighs and puts a sympathetic hand on Zath's shoulder.
[Zath]: Zath glances up at Bertrand, and once again there is that involuntary warming of his features.
[Sintha]: "Oh, tosh. He'll be fine. I did have an extensive talk with him. Quite perked him up."
[Averlena]: "City kid," Lena shrugs, clearly more mature at a few years further into her 20s. "Things hit him hard. I bet it helped, knowing somebody noticed."
[Zath]: "Thank you for speaking with him, Lady Sintha."
[Sintha]: Sintha smiles at Lena and makes a brief, shrewd study of her. She waves a hand absently at Zath.
[Azizia]: Azizia sighs again. She pulls on her headband, which cannot reach her face because of her horns, and powerwalks past the table to go behind the bar. No one can see her if she doesn't make eye contact.
[Dane]: Atley waits for Auralind to drink before he partakes, himself. He's left with a small milk mustache before he wipes it away on his cool gauntlet, and clears his throat. "I've not had a chance to tell you I am sorry about your companion," he issues, eyes following Azizia. "You know I always thought fondly of him."
[Auralind]: Auralind nods solemnly. "Mmmhm. Called him 'Beast.' He knew… could sense you liked him. He liked you, too."
[Dane]: Atley he grunts. "He was a proper terror, wasn't he. I've lost track of how many fights he and I shared together." He sets his jaw. "'Tis a dark day. I'd accompany you when he's laid to rest, if you'll have me."
[Azizia]: Azizia grabs a bottle of moonshine. She seems to have slowed down her movements, as she listens to Dane and Auralind. She even starts pouring her glass there.
[Auralind]: Auralind finishes the mug of wine, immediately pouring another. "I would be honored to have you. I will be taking him back to Kalimdor, to bury him in the soil of his homelands. In the Barrens. If you can make the journey."
[Dane]: Atley tiredly watches Azizia for no discernible reason as he speaks with Auralind. "Aye. I ought to. Time must be taken to respect the dead." There's a sudden growl, and he takes another swig of milk. "S'better to return him to his home. Far away from this fackin' wasteland."
[Auralind]: Aura nods. "I just…could not leave him here. Not even at the dragonshrines. This land is cursed. He deserves to be home where his spirit can be at rest." She reaches to her side, finding Dane's pauldron to rest a hand on. "Thank you. For understanding."
[Dane]: Atley looks towards her and nods once, reaching around to clasp her shoulder in kind. He gives her two squeezes a few a firm pats. "He was every bit of fierce as the symbol my folk try to evoke. There are monsters, and there are beasts. He was a beast."
[Auralind]: Auralind 'looks' at Dane, her blind eyes almost seeming to focus on him for a moment. "I was in him…connected to him…at the end. I can still feel him, Dane. Like he left that ferocity in me. I do not think I would have survived otherwise."
[Dane]: Atley grunts and looks down into his mug. He swirls it around for no reason with a pensive scowl. "P'raps not," he agrees with a soft growl. "A parting gift, then. I warrant that ferocity will linger for the rest of your days. He'd have it no other way, I wager."
[Bertrand]: Bertrand looks between Sintha and Lena. "Whiskey?" he offers, looking down at Tyrrell and making a gesture with his free hand. It's Tyrrell's bottle of whiskey to share, after all.
[Zath]: Tyrrell grunts assent.
[Averlena]: "Oh, sure," Lena says, reaching for one the glasses. "Two reasons for a whiskey day, one's celebration and the other's… well."
[Averlena]: "Or maybe three, third's you remembered you got an excellent malt in the cupboard and nowhere to be."
[Bertrand]: Bertrand pours them both whiskey while Zath is brooding.
[Sintha]: Sintha sits up and reaches briskly and smiling for a glass.
[Zath]: Zath broods.
[Sintha]: Sintha lifts her glass to Bertrand brightly. "How are you, Lord Betrand? I mean I know how everyone is, in a general sort of way. But as to your particulars?" She arches a brow.
[Zath]: Zath looks up to Bertrand at Sintha's question, obviously interested in the answer.
[Bertrand]: Bertrand cracks a smile. "Could be better, could be worse. The hardest part so far has been writing about all of this to Scilla. It's hard to really… capture the entire scope of what happened."
[Averlena]: "I don't reckon you can, truly," Lena says, taking a sip of whiskey. "But maybe that's for the best, really, that they don't get the full scope of it."
[Zath]: "The poor woman, she must be deeply distraught. I would offer to summon her here so that she can see you are well, but…" He gestures around at the chaos.
[Bertrand]: "Could you do that?" Bertrand looks at Tyrrell, blinking. He glances at Lena, takes in her point, and sighs. "No, you're right. I wonder."
[Zath]: "Also the room she stayed in last is rather overfull at present."
[Azizia]: Azizia takes her drink, as well as the bottle, and begins moving away from the bar, walking past the table.
[Sintha]: "Would it be a consolation to her to come to Dalaran for a time? To be near, at least?"
[Zath]: "Dalaran isn't a bad idea. I could summon her there, put her up at an inn?"
[Sintha]: Sintha nods at Zath. Look at you, Captain, being agreeable, everyone is so proud.
[Bertrand]: Bertrand smiles and raises his glass a little in toast to Sintha. "There's an idea." He takes a sip. "I'll write to her, ask her what she thinks. Could you possibly summon me back here, if I were to go visit her and my parents for a short while?"
[Averlena]: "I'd be happy to assist, of course," Lena says, resting a hand on the table. "Should you need me."
[Zath]: "Miss Coit or I would be happy to summon you — just let us know when exactly so we don't try to summon you from the bath."
[Sintha]: "Gosh."
[Bertrand]: Bertrand laughs. "I'll see what she says, next letter. Thank you."
[Zath]: "It does happen, sometimes."
[Sintha]: Sintha gives Zath a narrow, glittering smile.
[Averlena]: Lena smiles briefly. "I wouldn't judge, if it did."
[Zath]: "Some people do not realize that they have up to two minutes to prepare before answering the summons, you see."
[Zath]: "They panic and accept, as it is usually a matter of urgency, and … well… "
[Bertrand]: Bertrand makes a faint noise of amusement and drinks his whiskey.
[Auralind]: Auralind takes another quaff of the wine, leaning against the bar as she sets the cup down. "I keep… expecting to feel him… nuzzling my leg…" Quite suddenly, the stoic Sentinel crumples against the bar, sobbing uncontrollably.
[Zath]: Zath swivels at the sound of sobbing behind him, rising from his chair.
[Dane]: Atley grunts and sets his mug down, but keeps a hold of it. He takes a single step towards Auralind and pats her firmly between her shoulderblades. "There 'tis, then," he growls reassuringly. He keeps patting her, staying near.
[Bertrand]: Bertrand looks over, sees that Auralind is not unattended, and politely looks away to give her some privacy.
[Averlena]: Lena looks over and frowns at Dane and Auralind. "Is that… Auralind? It doesn't seem like her, somehow."
[Auralind]: Auralind buries her face in her arms, muffling her bawling, her body shaking.
[Dane]: Atley clenches and unclenches his jaw a few times, continuing to pat Auralind. "I've grown bloody weary of funerals," he confesses somewhat shakily, sounding decades older than his age. "But he'll live on in you. I've learned that the best way, p'raps the only way, to honor the dead, is a life well lived."
[Zath]: Zath takes in the scene for a moment, and as soon as it is apparent that the huge man is not the cause of the woman's sobbing but in fact its soother, he returns to his seat.
[Zath]: "You know her?"
[Averlena]: "Yes, she's a Sentinel, one of the higher-ups in Cobalt." Lena shakes her head helplessly. "Usually really stern, but… I guess everybody has limits."
[Alaisa]: Alaisa stops at each table to look over the customers.
[Azizia]: Azizia downs her small glass of moonshine, raising her hand at Alaisa, not looking at the human, as if to indicate that she was extremely busy. Then she turns around worried, looking in Auralind's direction.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa nods to Azizia and moves on.
[Azizia]: Azizia keeps staring at Auralind, privacy be damned. She fidgets with one of her tentacles.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa folds her arms across her chest as she approaches the table. "Sintha. Lena."
[Averlena]: Looks up at Alaisa. "Oh, hello, Lady Alaisa. Fancy a drink? Or, well, it's Captain Tyrrell's."
[Sintha]: Sintha is watching Auralind blandly. She glances up at Alaisa and her eyes round, and then her whole face lights up. "Lady Alaisa!"
[Zath]: Zath appraises Alaisa as though trying to decide if she is whiskey-worthy.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa smiles. "No, thank you," she says to Lena. "Lady Sintha, why in the world are you here?"
[Sintha]: "Oh, gosh, it is the funniest story about my idiot brother and the Wrathgate." This does not sound like a funny story at all.
[Zath]: Zath goes white at Sintha's comment. Well, whiter.
[Averlena]: Lena reaches out one hand as if to comfort Zath, but then quickly repurposes the movement into resting her hand on the table.
[Bertrand]: Bertrand looks like he's trying to place who this is. It takes him a minute. "Good afternoon, Lady Alaisa," he says politely.
[Alaisa]: "Good afternoon, Lord Bertrand," Alaisa says, and immediately returns her attention to Sintha. "Is he alive?"
[Sintha]: "He is perfectly well. Well, very nearly. Thanks to Captain Tyrrell, in fact." Sintha salutes Zath with her glass a little dourly.
[Zath]: Zath does not seem to know what to do with this dour toast. He puts his hand around his glass, but doesn't lift it.
[Alaisa]: "Good. Good, that's good to hear." Alaisa folds her hands in front of her and exhales slowly.
[Auralind]: Aura pushes herself up onto her trembling arms, still using the bar for support.
[Dane]: Atley makes a small amount of space and pulls his hand back. "Has Nilunelle been sent word?" he inquires with a diplomatic growl.
[Auralind]: Auralind wipes at her scarred eyes. "Not yet," she shakes her head. "I have found the words to put to paper."
[Dane]: Atley takes another sip from his mug before he sets it back down on the counter with a 'clink. "I'd lend my aid, if you'd have it. Let her know that you live, and wot's been lost."
[Auralind]: Auralind shakes her head, "No…thank you. But she should hear this from me."
[Dane]: Atley grunts and inclines his head. "Very well." He frowns down into his mug, running his tongue along his bottom teeth. "There's a tradition amongst my folk," he begins, rounding the counter again to look for another fresh mug.
[Auralind]: Auralind 'stares' at her wine. "What tradition?" She downs the rest of her mug, and starts to pour another.
[Dane]: "To commemorate a soldier's death — a battle brother's," he continues, pushing aside glasses. "You set aside an extra plate, or a drink, but you dare not partake. It's for them." He grunts. "Did he fancy milk? Or water?"
[Auralind]: Auralind grunts, "Water. Or blood."
[Dane]: Atley scoffs with amusement. "Of course." He makes a grunt of pleasant surprise as he finds a saucer, turning to set his mug of milk on the counter. He approaches a barrel of water and starts to fill the container.
[Sintha]: Sintha sips her whiskey, smiles up at Alaisa, surveys Zath again inscrutably.
[Averlena]: "Would you like a chair?" Lena asks Alaisa. "I can fetch you one."
[Azizia]: Azizia pours herself another shot. She does ask the innkeeper for a glass of water, before she drinks this one.
[Alaisa]: "Oh." Alaisa blinks as though snapping back to reality. "I should sit. Yes."
[Sintha]: "Please. Please do. Gosh, I should have thought to ask, I'm sorry. Thank you, Miss Coit."
[Averlena]: Lena stands and gestures at her own chair. "Please, sit. I'll grab another." Lena locates another chair at a nearby table and drags it down the few steps (clunk clunk clunk) to pull up next to Alaisa's.
[Bertrand]: "Are you well, Lady Alaisa?" Bertrand asks politely.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa twists a curl of hair around her finger. "Ah. Simply tired. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure." She takes a seat. "Thank you."
[Zath]: Zath tipsily admires Lena's hair.
[Sintha]: Sintha studies Alaisa, her lips pursed.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa's eyes are bloodshot, but any other evidence of her fatigue has been very expertly concealed by her makeup.
[Zath]: Zath seems to come to a conclusion about Alaisa, and pushes a glass toward her.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa reaches out a hand to stop the glass from sliding.
[Averlena]: Lena notices Zath's looking at her hair and one corner of her lips twitches upward slightly. She covers it by taking another sip of whiskey.
[Zath]: Zath looks at Alaisa, baffled, and pulls the glass back. He fills it anyway. Now he has two glasses.
[Averlena]: "Lady Alaisa, what brings you to Wintergarde? I think I last saw you in Stormwind."
[Alaisa]: "I believe a friend of mine may have been at the Wrathgate," Alaisa says. "I came up here to look for him. He has not been answering his mail, but that could mean any number of things. So I came up here to look for him." She already said that part.
[Sintha]: "Ah, darling," Sintha sighs, her eyes soft as she studies Alaisa.
[Zath]: "Who is your friend?"
[Averlena]: "I've been here a fair bit, the Captain more. Maybe we've seen him?"
[Averlena]: Lena does not know how long Bertrand has been here, or she would comment.
[Alaisa]: "He's one of the Knights of the Ebon Blade," Alaisa says, folding her hands on the table. She scans their faces for reactions.
[Zath]: "Ah."
[Sintha]: "Mm." Sintha sips whiskey. Her eyes do not change at all, which is itself a possible tell.
[Zath]: Tyrrell has nothing further to say, apparently, but he isn't frowning either.
[Bertrand]: "Ah." Bertrand shakes his head. "I haven't seen any of them in Wintergarde in the past couple days. I doubt they would seek medical care here."
[Sintha]: Sintha nods gravely and gestures at Bertrand with her glass.
[Alaisa]: "His name is Roper," Alaisa says, her eyes flicking back to Sintha. "If you hear anything…"
[Sintha]: Sintha pauses and flicks a sharp glance sidelong at Alaisa.
[Sintha]: "Naturally, darling."
[Averlena]: "Huh," Lena says, sounding more confused than anything. "Well, if I see one, I'll ask their name. They do stand out. I bet one of them would get out alright."
[Zath]: Zath continues to have absolutely nothing to say on this matter. He drinks from each of his two whiskey glasses in strict rotation.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa nods. "Thank you." She studies the grain of the wood on the table. "…I should, perhaps, get some rest soon."
[Bertrand]: Bertrand sets his empty whiskey glass down. "If you see Sil, let him know I'm looking for him?"
[Zath]: "…Me? Mm, of course."
[Alaisa]: "Silvestre Silentstep?" Alaisa nods. "I shall do so, Lord Bertrand."
[Averlena]: "Sure, I've not talked to him much, but I know he's around the keep. I'll send him your way, if I run into him." Lena nods, and then at Alaisa.
[Bertrand]: "Yeah, that's him. Sil Silentstep. Thanks." Bertrand sticks his hands back in his pockets.
[Sintha]: Sintha is still watching Alaisa thoughtfully from the corner of her eye.
[Zath]: "I should… *he sighs gustily* return upstairs."
[Sintha]: Sintha eyes Zath up and down with amusement.
[Zath]: "Thank you for the company and the respite, all."
[Zath]: He bows with an odd formality, then heads for the stairs.
[Bertrand]: "You take care now, Captain," Bertrand says, nodding.
[Averlena]: Lena watches him go, tilting her head slightly, then turns back to the others.
[Alaisa]: "Maybe what I should be ordering is coffee," Alaisa mutters. Possibly to herself.
[Averlena]: "Not likely to help with the getting rest," Lena observes.
[Sintha]: "The coffee here is appalling, but it is, you know. Coffee. May I buy you some, darling?"
[Alaisa]: Alaisa smiles. "I would love some appalling coffee. Rest can wait a little longer."
[Sintha]: "You wait right there." Sintha smiles and gets to her feet to swan her way over to the bar.
[Bertrand]: Bertrand looks over at the clock on the wall. "And that's my cue to head out."
[Alaisa]: Alaisa takes a moment, blinking slowly, before she nods to Bertrand.
[Averlena]: "Take care, Lord Bertrand," Lena nods politely.
[Bertrand]: "You as well."
[Bertrand]: Bertrand bows politely, pushes in Tyrrell's chair (whether necessary or not), and makes his way outside.
[Averlena]: "And I'd best see to my own rest," Lena says, with an apologetic smile. "Good luck finding your friend, Lady Alaisa. And let Lady Sintha know I'll be around, if she needs anything 'fore she goes back?"
[Alaisa]: Alaisa waits right there. She rubs her forehead with one hand. "Thank you."
[Averlena]: Lena heads back upstairs at the inn.
[Azizia]: Azizia lowers her head as Lena walks past her.
[Dane]: Atley shakily balances the basin of water and rounds the corner, grunting stiffly as descends into a crouch, setting the watered saucer underneath the counter, near their feet. He pushes himself up with another grunt, plate armor clinking lightly.
[Dane]: "I warrant that'll do," he sighs. "I do not recollect him being much for sitting at chairs or standing at counters."
[Auralind]: Auralind hears the saucer clinks on the floor, her ear turning toward it, and she turns her face to acknowledge it. She nods, "Shaha lor'ma, Dane. You honor him."
[Dane]: Atley briefly parts his lip before he raises his mug and quietly finishes it off. "I'd best be off. Ivri'll be expecting word, soon. I'll be about here, Auralind." he says, gesturing vaguely behind him.
[Auralind]: Auralind gives a curt nod, taking a shaky breath. "I will write to Nilunelle and arrange for her to meet us in Auberdine. Barring any unexpected delays, I will depart for Valgarde Keep tomorrow."
[Dane]: Atley grunts. "I shall be ready, then." He gives her shoulder another firm clasp and a squeeze.
[Auralind]: Auralind returns the gesture, gripping his shoulder… well, shoulderplate. "Shaha lor'ma, anu'kashal. Thank you, my friend."
[Dane]: Atley tips his head and grunts. He releases her and marches off.
[Auralind]: Auralind finishes the remainder of her mug of wine, then recorks the bottle, taking it with her as she trudges toward the stairs.
[Sintha]: Sintha returns to set a cup of coffee down before Alaisa. It manages to look very watery and smell very bitter at the same time.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa takes the cup of coffee and just takes a sip without stirring it or waiting for it to cool down or anything.
[Alaisa]: "Appaling," she agrees, grimacing a little. "Thank you, Sintha." She takes another sip.
[Sintha]: Sintha settles again and leans toward Alaisa. She smiles distractedly. "What on earth?"
[Alaisa]: Alaisa brushes her own hair away from her face. "Well. It seemed like a good idea when I didn't hear back by Tuesday."
[Sintha]: "How long have you been awake and wandering around this place?"
[Alaisa]: Alaisa considers this. "I spent last night at Fordragon Hold. There's a registry of bodies and some people have already removed their dog tags and cards but not the rest of their personal belongings, which is making… many peoples' jobs a lot more difficult." Alaisa blinks a few times. "How long have — it's Wednesday, yes?"
[Sintha]: "Tides, I've no idea. It's all a bit of blur, isn't it?"
[Sintha]: "I got here the night of, and I'm not sure Himself was too well pleased."
[Dane]: Atley pauses briefly to nod to Sintha and Alaisa, visibly somewhat taken aback to find the former present. "Miladies."
[Alaisa]: Alaisa twists around to look at the clock, and it takes her alarmingly long to do the mental math – that's three whole seconds. "Thirty-seven hours. Ah. Sir Atley, hello. Good… evening."
[Sintha]: Sintha glances up absently, surveys Atley, puts on her Sweet Smile for him. "Sir Atley, so good to see you well, tides be praised."
[Dane]: Atley grunts and briefly bows. "You've my thanks. Fare well, to you both," he growls, before waiting an appropriate amount of time to slowly continue his exit.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa raises a hand in farewell to Dane and drinks her horrible coffee.
[Sintha]: Sintha nods sweetly after Dane.
[Dane]: Atley marches up the steps. "Azizia."
[Azizia]: Azizia startles. "Ah! … Mr. Dane."
[Dane]: Atley tiredly eyes her up and down before he nods towards the doorway. "I've seen you about, making good account of yourself."
[Azizia]: "I am trying," she shrugs, staring at her glass of moonshine.
[Dane]: "I've noticed. You bring honor to yourself, and the company," he growls.
[Azizia]: Azizia shakes her head. "I do not act for honor. I never did."
[Dane]: Atley grunts. "I trust you're looking after yourself in all this?"
[Azizia]: "I will have all time in world to paint nails when things calm down," Azizia says.
[Dane]: Atley grunts. "Too right." He gives her a brief nod. "Farewell." Atley moves to march off outside.
[Azizia]: Azizia seems like she wants to say so much more, but she stays silent until he reaches the door. "… Farewell, Mr. Dane."
[Dane]: Atley steps out into the frigid cold.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa leans forward, elbows on the table, once Dane has passed by. "Himself didn't mention anything to me, but he wouldn't have."
[Sintha]: "I had only just left a meeting about the whole bloody racket when Captain Tyrrell summoned me, I was hardly out the door of the office and I just whisked off. I wasn't going to — well. I trust I've made up with it by sending back some reports."
[Sintha]: Sintha tips back her whiskey tiredly.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa makes a face. "Why the fuck was he anywhere near the — he's a sailor."
[Sintha]: "I did tell him that. So many times, by the way. But it was — well. It was complicated. There's a… diplomatic matter, you know. And also —" Sintha pauses as though considering how to phrase this carefully.
[Sintha]: "He's a fucking idiot."
[Alaisa]: Alaisa raises her cup of coffee. "I'll drink to that. How long'll you be here for?"
[Sintha]: "Actually." Sintha does her catlike smile at Alaisa. "I have been thinking of staying."
[Alaisa]: "Really?" Alaisa rubs her face and sits up a little straighter. "Doing what?"
[Sintha]: Sintha does a very slight kind of puppy-wiggle. "Oh, I don't know, perhaps I'll join the 7th?"
[Alaisa]: Alaisa considers this. She frowns at her coffee and gets stuck staring at it for a little while.
[Sintha]: Sintha leans forward to peer at Alaisa. "Hm?"
[Alaisa]: Alaisa blinks several times at her. "I am apparently too tired to have a conversation where I don't look like an idiot."
[Sintha]: Sintha's laugh is slightly brittle. "Oh, darling, that's the order of business here, haven't you heard?"
[Alaisa]: "Some people are functional after multiple days of this bullshit. I can only imagine." Alaisa takes a big swig of coffee and coughs into her hand. "Terrible."
[Sintha]: "… Ally, honestly. Speaking of terrible. What you need is water and twelve hours of sleep, I daresay." She glances up, purses her lips. "I'd offer you the second bedroom of the suite for a while, if it would help? It's… busy up there, at the moment, but I can lend you the room at least."
[Alaisa]: Alaisa blushes a little faintly and looks into her coffee for answers. There are no answers, only coffee. "Are they full up on rooms here?" She clearly has not considered this possibility.
[Sintha]: "To the rafters. Shay's only got the suite because he's been here over a week and Captain Tyrrell apparently made a fuss before any of this even happened about his being a dignitary." Sintha's tone says what she thinks of her brother's dignitary-ness.
[Alaisa]: "Ah, damn." Alaisa shakes her head. "I… yes, I'd appreciate that, if you don't think he'll mind."
[Sintha]: "I do not think he'll mind a bit, he's hardly in a state to mind anything right now and he is unlikely even to notice an extra with all the fuss being made at present."
[Alaisa]: Alaisa pushes the rest of her coffee away. Sleep might be an option soon. "But where will you —?"
[Sintha]: "Oh, there's a sitting room. I spend most of my time sleeping in shifts when the other two are minding Shay, and they’re both being such perfect nuisances about it that I’m practically well-rested." Sintha waves a blithe hand.
[Alaisa]: "The other two?" Alaisa blinks at her.
[Sintha]: "Lady Fallon and Captain Tyrrell."
[Alaisa]: There's a pause for that puzzle piece to click in, because Alaisa is tired. "Ah. They won't mind either?"
[Sintha]: "Gosh, no, I mean as long as you aren't in the way of the proceedings, which naturally you won't be, you are the most discreet and you will also be asleep, I do hope." Sintha looks stern. "Lady Fallon is staying with Shay, naturally, and Captain Tyrrell has a space in the barracks here."
[Alaisa]: Alaisa nods. "You will let them know I'll be there, though? I don't want to startle anyone who thinks they're in a private space in that sitting room. Thank you, Sintha. I do feel like I could sleep twelve hours. Despite the coffee."
[Sintha]: "I will absolutely let them know. Also please don't mind that they're a lot of bloody jellyfish right now. It will be quiet, at least, the pair of them are trying awfully hard to treat Shay like the world's fussiest big baby."
[Alaisa]: "You doing okay?" Alaisa asks, much quieter.
[Sintha]: For a moment Sintha goes a little grey beneath her suntanned complexion, and her face tightens. Then she makes a moue and lifts her eyes toward the ceiling resignedly, shrugging. "What can any of us be right now?"
[Alaisa]: "Yeah, fair." Alaisa stands, using her foot to push the chair in, and circles around the table towards Sintha.
[Sintha]: Sintha rises.
[Alaisa]: Alaisa offers her arm out like she's offering a formal escort, but what she says is, "You tell me if there's anything I can do?"
[Sintha]: "As if, darling. But you are brilliant to ask, hm? Let's get you some sleep and perhaps a proper breakfast in the morning?"
[Sintha]: Sintha takes Alaisa's arm gracefully and moves toward the stairs.
[Alaisa]: "That sounds great." Alaisa shakes her head quickly, more of a twitch than a full shake. "Shall we, Lady Sintha?"
[Sintha]: "Do lead on, Lady Alaisa. Oh, wait, but it's my family's suite." Sintha laughs brightly. "Come along."
[Alaisa]: Alaisa smiles and comes along.