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thalassophiliascripte · 3 months ago

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texas hold me

Balor/Female Farmer, 2k, read on ao3 here

With Eiland intoxicated, there's no one to run Dungeons and Drama. Balor has another suggestion for how the group could spend their Friday Night - and there's definitely no ulterior motives there.

Friday nights at the inn were always interesting, but there was an arcing electric current in the air tonight.

Perhaps it had something to do with the drinks being half-off. Perhaps it had something to do with the kids being off camping in the Western Ruins. (Maple had seen the ancient circlet and the lost Aldarian crown in the museum, and insisted they go camping to see if she could find a real royal crown for herself.)

Perhaps it had nothing to do with either of those facts, and more to do with the warmth along her side where she was leaning against Balor. Eiland had stumbled in from talking to the kids at the ruins and plunked himself down at the bar—so Dungeons and Drama was cancelled for the night. Adeline had wandered over to ask him what was going on, but the wild look in his eyes and the muttered comment about Dell was enough to send her back over to the newly-emptied Dungeons table shaking her head.

“I’m not sure what happened, but it couldn’t have been anything good to leave Eiland looking like that,” she said. Then she clapped her hands together. “Even if we can’t play, we need to find something to do. I’ve set aside the next few hours on my calendar to have fun, so let’s get to it!”

“Right,” Aryn replied. “Right.” Technically she wasn’t officially part of the game, but Eiland had asked her to voice an NPC a few weeks ago, and then the rest of the players had been enchanted with her small gnomish barbarian, and dragged her along with them as they pursued their next objective, so she also needed to find another form of entertainment for the evening.

Balor watched the other table with a wistful look in his eyes, which he then turned on the remaining Dungeons and Drama players—which was only Celine, Aryn, and Adeline at this point.

Holt had pulled up a chair behind his wife, and with Olric watching his brother at the bar, she was slowly piling up a ridiculous number of poker chips while he watched her with shining eyes. Juniper and Valen leaned on one another, having taken the blacksmith brother’s place, and steadily descending further into drunken hysteria from the frequency of their giggling.

“It’s been such a long time since I was able to play a round of poker,” he sighed.

Aryn glanced at Adeline, then at the boys at the bar. Reina was still serving them drinks, but when Aryn caught her eye, she winced and slowly shook her head while miming taking another drink.

“We could play a round,” she said slowly, “but only if you get Olric, March, and Eiland over here to join us.”

Balor followed her gaze toward the bar, and grimaced. “I’m not certain how good they’ll be for it,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll try though—the doctor is off duty, and there’s nobody that can help if they drink themselves unconscious.”

Aryn watched him at the bar for a few minutes, having some sort of hushed conversation with the drinkers. March’s face flushed an interesting shade of red, and Eiland was nodding before Balor had finished the offer. Then he nearly slid off his stool. Balor had to steady him as he made his way over to the table. March and Olric followed, leaning on each other.

“Good old-fashioned poker is all well and good,” Balor began once he’d gotten back to their table. “But we were talking over by the bar, and we’d be able to just rotate in to the other table if we wanted to do that. So, does anyone care to wager something a little more…interesting?”

It just so happened that the last of his announcement left Balor murmuring in Aryn’s ear. His breath tickled the hair on the nape of her neck. She bit the inside of her lip in a desperate bid to avoid shivering.

“What did you have in mind?” Aryn asked. Balor hummed, and stroked his chin theatrically. Before he could say anything, Adeline interrupted him.

“Not drinks.”

He tsked. “You make a good point, Adeline, but that’s no fun.”

“We could attempt Caldosian variant poker,” Eiland hiccuped. “They didn’t wager for coin or chips—really, it was a fascinating byproduct of their non-monetary economy. Depending on your social class, in order to procure goods and services you might engage in a barter economy or a gift economy, which also created a disparity in the variety of good available to the common man—” Eiland trailed off. “What was I saying?”

Balor raised an eyebrow. “So you suggest we make no wagers?”

Eiland snapped his fingers, “Ah right! I was talking about poker! No, I was suggesting we go with something non-monetary. Like—” he waved his hands around “—like favors or something.”

March muttered something indecipherable, his face mushed into his brother’s bicep. “March says he’s hot,” Olric volunteered. March reached up to stroke Olric’s face.

“Shh, shh—you didn’t have to tell them that,” he slurred, before breaking into giggles. “I’m always hot. ‘S a part of bein’ a blacksmith.”

It was Balor’s turn to snap his fingers. Aryn knew that he and Eiland spent time together—but had Balor picked the habit up from Eiland, or had Eiland picked it up from Balor? “I know!” He leaned forward, and set his chin in his hands, devilish grin spreading across his face. “Has anyone played strip poker before? It’s a passing lark that people like to play in the Capital.”

Aryn flushed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Balor draped an arm across her shoulders. “Ari, Ari, Ari. Of course it’s a good idea.” There was a strange intensity to his gaze.

“I can’t,” mumbled Celine.

“What?”

“I can’t!” Celine wailed. “My parents are right there!” She dropped her forehead against the tabletop. “I really want to play though. It sounds like fun.”

She was probably tipsy too—her cheeks had been awfully red before she’d face-planted onto the table. “We could go somewhere else?” Aryn suggested, hoping that she could pick up some water before they left and then—she might be able to sober up her friends before they went back home.

Adeline tapped her chin. “The park maybe? Near the old oak tree with the swing? It’s close enough to town that we shouldn’t get into any trouble, and still a decent ways away from where the kids are camping.”

“Sounds good to me,” Aryn shrugged.

As they left, Aryn made eye contact with Ryis, and cocked her head—a silent invitation. He shook his head, and gestured at Landen, who was leaning heavily on his shoulder. She shrugged again, and turned back toward the rest of her friends. It would have been nice for Ryis to come, but, in turn, he was too nice to leave Landen alone while drunk. She’d stop by in the morning to check in on him and tell him any embarrassing details from whatever was about to happen, she promised herself.

The night air was brisk on her face, as they made their way through the town toward the park. The clear sky sent shafts of moonlight across the paving stones, and Aryn was struck by the thought that it would be very nice to have someone’s hand in hers. There weren’t many crickets left, but the ones who lived to brave the early autumn chill were playing their hearts out in the otherwise still air. Balor’s arm brushed up against her side, and then his pinky looped through hers.

She hoped the cool air kept her from blushing. ***

They wound up in a lopsided circle in the moonshadow of the old oak tree in the park. March was splayed out on the ground with his head in Olric’s lap, snoring gently, and Olric had waved himself out of the game with a sheepish look at his brother. Eiland was doing slightly better than March, though that was partially the result of Adeline filling up his flask with water every time he wasn’t paying attention. He’d likely had about two or three flasks-worth of water, and they were clearly helping level him out.

Celine, on the other hand, kept bursting into random fits of giggles. She was lucky that she was the one sitting against the trunk of the tree, since Aryn had her doubts that she’d be able to stay upright by herself otherwise.

Balor flicked open the box of cards, and began to shuffle with practiced movements. His slender fingers and dexterous hands left the cards practically flying through the air, and if Aryn had to guess, he was showing off quite unnecessarily as he finished shuffling.

“How do we do this?” asked Adeline.

***

Things derailed quickly. It only took a half-round, actually.

Celine and Eiland were both overconfident drunks.

Olric was glancing wide-eyed between Celine and Eiland, who’d both lost their shirts, and in Eiland’s case, his cape. “I think it’s time that I take March home,” he stammered. And then he proved that his muscles weren’t just for show, as he hoisted his brother over his shoulder and booked it for their house.

“To be fair, he lasted longer than I expected him to,” said Celine. Aryn snickered, and anted up.

“Poor Olric,” said Adeline. “And March wasn’t any help.” She tossed her last few chips in the palm of her hand, weighing them, then sighed. “I’m out.”

Balor narrowed his eyes at Aryn, and dropped another round of chips in the pot. Struck by sudden burst of confidence, Aryn caught and held Balor’s eyes while she shimmied out of her shirt, and dropped it onto the pot.

Eiland wrinkled his brow. “I thought you were supposed to bet on what you’re taking off before the round ended. Or have I been doing this wrong?” He glanced mournfully at where his cape had been folded up neatly with the other stripped clothing, and shivered.

“I didn’t think it was fair that you and Celine were already shirtless,” she said, and thanked her lucky stars that she’d worn her cutest bra—despite the fact that the lace was annoying—since it was the last clean one before she did laundry the next morning. It was nice letting it dry while she was at Saturday Market.

Eiland’s eyes remained narrowed, and his brow remained wrinkled, but he didn’t say anything else.

“I’m out,” Celine sighed after looking at her cards. “I’m having terrible luck tonight.” She leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes. After a moment, she started to snore softly. “In that case—” Balor laid out his cards. A royal flush. Again. Somehow, Aryn didn’t think that it was an accident that Balor had been sent over to the Dungeons and Drama table and as far away from the poker game as possible. Damn him and his pretty hands.

She sighed, and dropped her two pair on the ground. “Another round?”

Adeline stood up as Balor started gathering cards. “I’d love to, but I’ve run out of fun-hours, and I should take Eiland home so that Elsie can laugh at him and help him sober up a bit so he’s not totally out of it tomorrow.”

Eiland frowned. “I’m fine—” he started, then Adeline pulled him to his feet. He clutched his head and groaned. “Nevermind. Lead the way.”

Ah. So it was just her and Balor. That was—fine—everything was fine. She wished that she hadn’t taken off her shirt now. The air that had been previously still stirred, and this time she couldn’t hold off her shiver. Balor had gathered up the cards, and was shuffling again.

“Another round?” he offered her. "I know there's only the two of us, but…"

“Is that all that’s on offer?” she said, and then clapped a hand to her mouth. “Wait. I don’t know why I said that.” If she hadn’t been blushing before, she certainly was now.

Balor had stopped shuffling, and his cheeks were pink. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Were you looking for more?” He was grinning now though, and her heart lurched. “You know me—I pride myself on offering all kinds of goods and services.”

His hand cupped her chin, and she looked up into iolite eyes. “I’d love to make a deal,” he continued.

She leaned in.

“After all—I’ve always had an eye for pretty things,” he breathed, and then his lips were on hers.

#fields of mistria #fom balor #fom #fom oc: aryn #fom balor/farmer #balor/farmer #balor/female farmer #strip poker with the dungeons and drama gang!! minus holt and olric and march are there #bc reina was worried march was going to get alcohol poisoning while the town doctor was drunk #Balor had a line of dialogue about how he likes to let Darcy surprise him when it comes to drinks #and somehow by a series of mental associations I arrived here #the-scribe-writes

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