#kyngeshed

[maevemedeina]

The better to see you with my dear...

Closed starter @taurusvolkov When: Midday Where: The Kyngeshed

There was a definite sense of lethargy that would be endured in the Kyngeshed. You could see it when you walked in and got an eyeroll from the bar tender. You could feel it when patrons slouched down in their chairs, and you could most definitely smell it. The humid heat had most of the patrons who were capable of it, sweating, both inside and outside of the establishment. It seemed as though everybody responded by wiping their brows and deciding to move as little as possible to avoid further heat production. A lazy solution for a motley crew.

One of those sweating patrons, remaining as stationary as still as possible was Maeve. The golden haired armourer could be found at a picnic table, lying on her back. She had one leg tucked underneath her on the bench, the other dangling lazily off the edge of the table. Stuck to her legs were leather pants, the buttons undone at her hips, and her equally hot, leather boots were discarded on the grassy floor. The worn, linen cloth shirt Maeve typically wore beneath a vest hung loose, and might have billowed in the breeze had there been one. The werewolf's exposed skin glistened with sweat and the blonde, tangled waves draped down one side of the bench, pooling on the grass below, so Maeve could enjoy a little fresh air around her hot neck.

Whether the unseasonably hot whether was natural or the result of some mythical or supernatural's mood swings, was something that had occurred to Maeve as she enjoyed her afternoon amongst other like minded thugs who had packed in work for the day and retired to the pub to drink cheap.

Littering the grassy outback were mismatching chairs, stools, even one hammock. A blend of supernaturals, lazed and lounged in the heat. A haze of smoke cloaked some of the illegal deals that were arbitrarily being conducted between sips and smokes, smirks and half hearted threats. Some, if not all were indulging in something.

Maeve herself had indulged in a little magical enhancement to her vision. It was temporary and mostly safe, traded to her by a nearby elf who now wore Maeve's leather vest in return.

The plan was to meet Taurus after she had finished the multitude of daily tasks it took to maintain the makeshift pavilion she lived in. The heat had pushed her from her work and she found herself at the Kyngeshed several hours earlier than planned. It was for this reason that she decided to treat herself to the eyesight enhancing red soot like substance she now had smeared across her eyes.

A contended smile settled comfortably on Maeve's lips as she admired the almost cloudless sky above her. Had it not been for the glinting axe of her own making, stationed between her legs, Maeve might have resembled something akin to a woman on holiday.

The wolf inhaled deeply, enjoying the mixture of scents around her when Taurus's very familiar, musky scent began to tickle her senses. Guided by the scent, Maeve reluctantly lifted herself up by her elbow and peered around to look for the pack leader, she hadn't expected so soon.

[justcleodora]

| Cleodora & Yazi | Starter |

@pandokofswamp

Where: Edge of Destarin Forest When: Early afternoon

Though Cleodora had failed to arrive for another shift at the local grocers, it only took a little stroll along the outskirt of the forest to find the run away nymph. She had a flagrant disregard for what was expected of her and it showed, given she had no intention of hiding away at home. No, the nymph instead was floating in a stream, the pale rose of her wet gown matching the pink in the nymph's eyes.

Though the nymph had drank from her waterfall yesterday, remnants of it's sight seeing gifts remained, evident in the hue of her usually crystal blue eyes. After an extended stay in town, the nymph had gorged on the water source and thus had spent the majority of the morning, trapped in a confusing blur of visions. As the pink clouded her eyes, Cleodora lost her grip on the present and was forced into the futures of those closest to her as well as those who were complete strangers to her. The visions were confusing, filled with languages unknown to Cleodora, a sea of changing faces disorientating her.

While the nymph was a vision in a rose dress, submerged in water, her dark hair splayed around her face, the lazy water stream slowly carrying her past lily pads and various flowers, Cleodora's visions were anything but pretty and peaceful.

As such, when she was permitted respite randomly, the nymph sat up suddenly, her legs hitting the pebbled floor beneath her, and her eyes draining of all traces of pink. The sense of peace and calm in the area was disrupted by Cleodora dragging her wet frame from the water so she could lie on the bank exhausted. If there was ever a reason to cease all visits to the Kyngeshed in the future it was this. Taverns lead to bad decisions, and bad decisions always seemed to circle back to the gift she had no control over and no desire to practice.

The nymph huffed and rolled onto her side so she was looking across the wide, shallow stream. The sound of an unfamiliar splash caught the weary nymph, and it was with a wary gaze that she sat up and turned to see who or what had joined her.

[izzyphan]

kyngeshed | hastalik & isabel

Isabel was doing her best to explore the entire city of Destarin. Most of that exploration was in one animal form or another, whatever would blend in in each district. But in truth, she was feeling a little uncomfortable appearing human anywhere but in the Ashharren District. It felt like home, enough to show her real face. But at the same time, it somehow made her homesick.

Which is what found her ducking into the Kyngeshed, despite the fact that she didn't often drink. An ale or glass of wine here or there, but never enough to even give her a buzz. The shifter figured it might taste like home, reducing the homesickness Ashharren caused.

Izzy was waiting at the tavern's bar when she noticed someone else in her company. Unsurprising considering the location, but something felt different. Not off, not bad, just ... different. Following the stranger's gaze, it seemed to track a particular employee. A stranger, but she'd met nothing but strangers since arrival. So she took a deep breath and followed the same employee with her own gaze before leaning over to the other.

"Who are we looking at, Sir?" the shifter whispered, eyes wide and lips twisting in case the stranger didn't want her attention.

@hastalikanhci

[merrymockthejester]

location: the kyngeshed - cheridi district

with: @arielbeaumont

It wasn't every day that someone sought his company, it was something he would have anticipated before, when he was still at his lord's court. Back then that would be numerous events and social gatherings that Merrymock graced with his presence but not so much here and now, regardless of the unexpected invitation to meet, it was of course only natural for the tiefling to pounce on it with all the airs of confidence that he had on offer, which was a lot. Because of course, it was only natural that one would want his company, he was very fine and attractive and had the best humour and believed himself to be the very best of company, it was only right that his attention would be sought and very wrong when it was not. Merry was therefore dressed in his best, keen on making a very good impression, which he was certain he could do even if he wore only a sack but his dear friend stitched together such lovely articles of clothing for him that he would be doing her a disservice if he didn't act as a walking talking advertisement for her talents. He even bathed and had little cloves nestled in the mess of his dark curls for an added bit of spice and fragrance.

Who exactly he was meant to be meeting, Merry was not entirely certain, at least, not of what they looked like. He'd been told what the man looked like but being told how someone looked and knowing them by sight were entirely two different things. It was much easier to identify Merry in a crowd of others for his features were so unique, a tiefling with broken horns and a prosthetic metal arm had a tendency to stick out. "Do you know if there is a... Ariel Beaumont here?" Merry inquired to the one working the bar, the sharp points of his nails tapping against the smooth surface of the bar top as he waited for a response, scanning those already in the tavern and those entering, trying to determine if he could recognize who he was meant to be meeting.

[arielbeaumont]

a hungry visitor | ariel & hastalik

This was not Ariel's first time in Destarin. He'd passed through now and again in the two centuries he'd been alive; how could he not have? They were practically twins, he and Destarin--both of them born out of the darkness of war, both of them born beautiful and hopeful and shining, both of them changed, tarnished, damaged--

That line of thought cut off abruptly, a muscle in the dhampir's jaw jumping as he tucked it away, into the vault where he kept all such contemplations. It was like touching a live wire to think such things. It served nothing but a child's indulgence to stir up memories of his childhood, what-ifs and might-have-beens. He was not tarnished; he was improved.

The point was, he'd been to Destarin before, but not in many years, and never for long enough to develop any real familiarity. He'd been out and about all afternoon, and there'd been plenty of novelty to keep him entertained. But when the afternoon had begun to turn slowly towards evening, and Ariel grew hungry--well, then he'd been quite pleased to find that one of his memories held true.

A tavern still stood exactly where he'd remembered it to be.

Seated in that tavern now, Ariel absently stirred his tea as he considered The Kyngeshed's offerings. It should not have been such a hard decision, but--well, away from the noise and the crowd of the street, he'd become very aware of the thump, thump, thump of beating hearts inside the tavern, and he could not help but think how much more satisfying it would be to dine on one of their owners.

He only realized his gaze had focused in on a young man's neck when he was caught looking. Ariel's expression immediately shifted, the faraway, hungry expression he'd been wearing smoothly replaced with a self-deprecating smile.

"My apologies. You look like a local," he said, and there was no derision in his tone, only the awareness that Ariel himself did not, still dressed as he was in the current fashions of Withermore's court. "What would you order? Do a hungry visitor a kindness, hm? I simply can't decide."

@hastalikanhci

[justcleodora]

| Cleodora & Leopold | Starter |

Location: Destarin Forest When: Middle of the night @leopold-dawson

Deeply sequestered away in the Destarin Forest resides a large family of nymphs. Their homes are tucked between some of the forests' tallest trees, often disguised by the verdurous branches, and are cleverly crafted by hand, with a process called joinery. The simple reason for this particular architecture being; the family's deeply inherent value for nature - a healthy approach given the land is their life source. This family lives in harmony with nature, and only a mile or so from their tree based homes is their sacred source of sight; a waterfall and the plunge pool beneath it.

This is where one lone nymph found herself. After an extended period of time spent in the trade district of town, the nymph found herself physically and spiritually parched. Practically forced by her sudden quench for the water source, the raven haired nymph stumbled from the Kyngeshed and began the long journey to the forest and then to her sacred source.

Half drunk and a little delirious from dehydration, the nymph shed the blue gown she wore, and the various undergarments, discarding them like bread crumbs in her wake, until she stepped out unsteadily onto the rocky waters edge in her chemise. Though she plunged her hands into the running water and took several generous gulps, the allure of water pouring over the mouth of the cave was too much to resist. It looked like black, liquid night, and the sound of the plunge pool water called to the tipsy nymph.

Though drunk, Cleodora was not without her wits, and so when she smiled and took the step over the edge, her hands rising above her like a dancer, as she fell with familiar grace into the plunge pool.

Beneath the watery surface, for a minute or so, Cleodora remained submerged, looking up at the moonlight. Feet and hands met nothing but but the soothing embrace of cold water, and for a while she lingered enjoying the sensation of weightlessness. To feel at home underwater, even without the ability to breathe, felt like a wonderful thing to Cleodora. She could fly here, dance here, see here... Only one thing could break her from her reverie, and that one thing was a face above her. The nymph cocked her head in drunken confusion... he should not have been there... this was her pool...