- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas had had to duck to come through the tavern door. He was visiting for the first time, or at least the first time in any recent memory, and was struggling to remember how all of... this... worked.

This... commerce. "So I must pay?" he asked, a little incredulous, but he wasn't about to start throwing his weight around. He just wasn't used to people not falling all over themselves, stammering. Not people from the old days, anyway. But the beartender was just polishing a mug after explaining things, and Vargas found himself reluctantly studying the boundy board instead.

"Firewood," he grunted, and then ran a claw down the list (without touching, very polite) trying to make out the rest of it.

"Fish. Bones," came the following mutters, as the extended claw ran downward. Then he stole a glance back at the bar. "All this for a... what did you call it? Ale?" He then squinted along the tables, wondering if the "barmaid" position that Bartholemew had offered him might be worth it, for a few hours, if only to try the drinks.

The place had a nice atmosphere, at least. Dark and cozy, smoky, but brightly lit by a good hearthfire. He wanted to experience it properly, whatever that meant. Apparently with an ale, and potentially a meal. But he had no... what was it, money?

Damn capitalism.

@Callista

I used to think that the day would never come
I'd see the light in the shade of the morning sun

The door of the inn swung open as Callista stepped inside, humming softly to herself. It was an old routine now, some time simply working bounties on occasion, and then hanging around the inn had become a nice daily living cycle for her. Steady, stable, if a little boring. And always that job she had nagging at the back of her mind...but damn the caves she couldn't find anyone with magic items worthy to steal! At least, on anyone that she could reasonably steal from. The deadline had come and gone long ago...but she wasn't a quitter.

So, hanging out at the inn until somebody came along or she heard about something interesting was what she'd resigned herself to do. It wasn't bad.

Today, however, something was definitely different, considering that there was a MASSIVE and HUGE creature just hanging around inside, one she'd definitely never seen before. She stopped in the doorway for a moment, staring without thinking. It wasn't that she hadn't seen large creatures before, but this one was REALLY big. She only caught the tail end of his words, but she was smart enough to deduce what his deal was - he wanted a drink but he didn't have money.

Well, she was interested, in him and his deal, and she also had some extra coins. So, shaking off her momentary surprise, she strode up to the bar and pulled out a seat, hopping onto it and stretching tall so her head could make it over the top of the countertop. "Hey, Bartholomew." They'd gotten acquainted in the last few cycles. "I'll take a mead." She looked up at Vargas and quirked her head. "And one for the big guy as well. What did you want? An ale?"

She flipped open the top of her satchel - that had been a good purchase from Thaddius a while ago, and pulled out four coins, tossing them as far as she could reach onto the bar top. Now, usually, she would take the drink over to a smaller table more sized for her, but today she hung around, standing atop the bar stool and looked back up at the Valkhound. "I haven't seen you around here. First time?"

That my life would depend on the evening moon
That the night would never comе

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

His head swivelled a little belatedly, his multiple eyes blinking as he regarded this new--wait, where was it?

Vargas's gaze trailed down, and would have had to go farther had the split-color feline not taken a position atop a stool. His attention was torn for a brief second, taking in both the strange cat-like stranger and her satchel--and then her mead, with its interesting odor. Sweet, he thought, and mused that it seemed like something Nemean should like, albeit a tad... crude?

"An ale," he parroted in agreement.

Vargas wasn't exactly a purveyor of drinks. But he was now being served an ale, and he lifted it in oversized claws, the tankard tiny in his grasp. He gave it a sniff, puzzled, and wondered why anyone would want to drink this. Ahh, but manners... This one had spoken. And, apparently, bought him a drink! What luck! "It is," he replied; he was pretty sure this place had existed a long, long time ago but he couldn't remember if he'd taken part much. He vaguely recalled it being more of an escape for those harried by a working life, and he'd always been too... serious.

"I am-" and some part of him stopped the authoritative introduction. Maybe it'd be nice to just talk to a stranger, for once. Get some perspective from someone who didn't know his rank. "Vargas."

Now, how did one do gratitude..? He gathered himself in an attempt to appear friendly, speaking with a good imitation of humility. (He really was trying.) "These coins... they are hard to come by? Do I owe you?"

He then took a sip of ale whilst he awaited a response. It was... interesting. A bit of a sting, not like the cocktails his former Master had held so beloved, but still there; a fizz on the tongue and a somewhat acrid taste, almost like blood. But also--wheat.

How odd. Vargas took another sip.

@Callista

I used to think that the day would never come
I'd see the light in the shade of the morning sun

She reached forward to grab the tankard of mead, quite large for her in comparison to how small they seemed to Vargas. She sat herself down properly on the stood, folding her legs in front of her as she sipped on her own drink. The name he offered was something faintly familiar to her, perhaps a name she'd heard tossed around that she'd never paid enough attention to - maybe he was some hotshot brute or something in another part of the caves. Well, nothing to be afraid of here - not in the safety of the inn.

"Callista," she offered back. "Nice to meet you." She'd keep her eyes and ears open during this conversation. She wondered if this would be someone willing to trade with the Collector. That would be nice, wouldn't it? Get one of her list checked off?

She waved a paw dismissively. "Eh, not really. Put in a bit of work here and there and you get more then enough. I have some extra to spare so don't worry about it." She considered buying him a dinner as well, but that was a little further outside of her kindness for the moment. She didn't know the guy at all and between drinks and dinner for both of them, that was about half her stash. Not something she was willing to drop on a stranger. Still, maybe it would buy her a favor later hmm....

"So what brings you here, Vargas? Just wanna try out the drinks?" She took a sip of her mead. "They're pretty good, although I wouldn't know better."

That my life would depend on the evening moon
That the night would never comе

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas had only ever been in a social drinking situation alongside Nemean.

Nemean had drilled two things into him. First, he was meant to be comic relief sometimes, not uncommonly getting a bright pink bow stuck to his head, and occasionally wearing a tutu or frilly lace dress. Second, proper manners. He was a beast and indeed a brute most of the time but he could fake fine dining company with the best. He'd always suspected that point two (good manners) had tied into point one (comic relief) by virtue of "slavering murderous monster correctly identifying a salad fork" and the like.

But the result was that for an instant, old muscle memory damn near had him trying to kiss the back of Callista's hand in formal greeting. He... did not do that. Instead he dipped his head low, trying to remember how all of this went without actually embarrassing the shit out of himself.

"It is good to meet you as well. I appreciate this, then." ...Part of him was grating at the niceties already, though truth be told he was so tired from his work that it was muted. He took a long drink of ale as he formulated an answer.

"Curiosity," he answered, with an agreeing and agreeable tone. "The drinks, the food--off-limits, I think--and the place itself. I... will have to find this 'fire wood.'" That was something to think about. He could probably burn a bunch of dead trees and bring them back? Or did "firewood" mean wood that was still on fire? Or magic fire-imbued wood?

...His gaze drifted to the hearth and his mind followed with an oh. Wood for the fire. Right.

Ahh, but--polite conversation, yes? He turned his attention back to Callista, who was interesting.

"You have been here before, then. And... garnered these... coins, somehow? Do you gather things for this tavern, then?" he asked, briefly studying the odd fur pattern and colors. It looked almost meaningful, somehow, though he wasn't quite sure what the split hues represented. "The Palace serves drinks on occasion. The chef can provide a decent vintage to compare this against. But that is... a different atmosphere," he tacked on, and tried to think of how to actually describe the difference without sounding like he was flat-out insulting the Roaring Hearth.

@Callista

I used to think that the day would never come
I'd see the light in the shade of the morning sun

Callista had to stifle a laugh. She did manage it before she snorted up some of her mead, but couldn't stop the smile that broke across her face. "Firewood is just chopped up wood. They throw it in the fire," unaware that Vargas had come to this conclusion himself.

She nodded, taking another sip. "Yeah, I've been hanging around for the last few cycles. The bounties pay alright and there's more to buy at the market besides food and drink." She patted the satchel at her side. "Something to keep busy." She didn't say anymore then that about it, not divulging the real reason she was frequenting the tavern. The mention of the palace, though, had her perking up to look over. "Oh, yeah? I've never been. It looked really fancy and I wasn't sure if I was allowed."

She stared at Vargas, trying to imagine him walking around the palace. Well if a huge beast could go and taste whatever fancy ales they had there, maybe she could, even though she was just, well, someone. And she was even more interested in whatever was going on with Vargas, then, that he would go here when he could just go to the palace. "I assume you don't have to pay for anything in the palace. That's pretty sweet. Although I think I'd get pretty tired of the fanciness after a while." Not that she knew what it was like to be in a place that fancy, but she had a fondness for the Roaring Hearth. It felt friendly. Grounded.

That my life would depend on the evening moon
That the night would never comе

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas tried not to wince, and despite the rigidity of his giant face, mostly failed. Yeah. Firewood. That stuff. He grunted a generic muffled thanks of some kind for the explanation while hastily downing more ale to bury said face. Not that, given the tankard's comparative size, it really worked.

He cast a glance at the satchel again, and gestured vaguely to it. "Unusual craftsmanship," was all he said, mild enough that it could be an invitation to elaborate on its construction or source, or just ignored. But crafted items were still a work-in-progress sort of civilization step in the caves, and any form of weaving or leatherworking still stood out, however basic.

Silent, he took in Callista's explanation. So the tavern's bounties were an ongoing thing, then. And what did one spend the coins on? Was the cave system building a new economy? Was Bartholomew up to something? (Not that Vargas even knew his name.) Ahh, but the Palace-... that, he could speak of. He took another small swig of ale, finding that it had numbed his tongue enough that it went down all right, now. And already, there wasn't much left. It was rather... undersized, even though it was probably the tavern's biggest mug.

"The Palace is open to all, provided they follow any rules and respect the grounds," he began, and realized that some of his authoritative tone had bled through. He tried to moderate it, a little. "...It is very... clean. There are places to eat, a library, a theatre. It is the only culture in this place," he added, with a generic sort of wave of his claws. It wasn't an insult in tone, either. Vargas could take or leave culture. He didn't care. But it wasn't like a lot of the other caves had regular television, either. "It has a ballroom," he added, at length, thinking. "And gardens. The drinks are rather... different, than here." He spared a glance at the barkeep, trying to phrase it as politely as he could. He was trying to fit in, a little, after all. "Stronger stuff, and rarer, generally. Finer, but harder to come by. Some of it they may not part with easily. If you wish to ask the Hand for her opinions on the various options, she is likely familiar."

Very, very familiar, if Vargas's memories were up to scratch.

@Callista

I used to think that the day would never come
I'd see the light in the shade of the morning sun

She glanced again at the satchel, wondering what he meant by that. Unusual? But it was pretty basic, just some leather sewed together. In what way was that unusual? "Not really, just a simple thing. One of the market stalls sells things like that. Useful stuff." Admittedly, a satchel like this may not be great for gembound without hands, but she was one of those fortunate few. Perhaps why there were only a few available to purchase.

"I should check it out sometime. I'd like to see all that." The culture remark, though, had her face twisting down in the smallest of frowns. "Only place? What do you call this, then?" She gestured to the rest of the bar, where there were a couple other patrons quietly talking in the corner, where out the window one could see the market streets where other gembound milled about. "It might be different culture, but this has something too. I'm not super familiar with culture, I keep to myself, mostly. But Scorpio has something." Keyword was something. She didn't understand culture, really. She'd never attached herself to people or a group of people. But she knew all the market owners by name. She knew the kind of jokes Bartholomew liked to hear and the ones that made him frown. There was a patron that came by every so often that always asked for ice cubes in their mead. Was that culture?

She shrugged. "I'm not offended, though. I'm sure the Palace is all kinds of fancy. Who is this Hand? Is there really someone out there called The Hand?" The corner of her mouth quirked up, but she didn't vocalize any further amusement in case it might be insulting to her new acquaintance.

That my life would depend on the evening moon
That the night would never comе

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas glanced at Callista in weary surprise. Weary... because he really should not, at this point, have been surprised that there were creatures who had no idea who Aethril was. Of course they didn't. She'd essentially hidden herself away after millennia of rest, and honestly, he couldn't blame her. And... maybe it was for the best, too. The caves would've been a very different place had she been out, about, and active. ...What sort of place? he found himself wondering, then shook his head, with a grunt, to dismiss the thought for now.

He forced his attention to Callista, nodding to her instead as he tried his best to describe Aethril properly. "In the... hierarchy, of the caves, a Hand is above the Masters. There are two, one who visits this place and one who administrates it. Or did, when it was a more active place." He avoided other terms, like Nest or mention of armies, trying to keep up some pretense of social interaction. As it was, he already felt like he should be breaking out a whiteboard and charts. He drank down the last drops of ale, instead, and sighed a little. "She is beautiful, elegant, and has had thousands of years to sample wine. If you wish to discuss it with anyone, I imagine she would be your best option. But no, she does not go by the name of Hand. That is her title. She is named Aethril, though I would address her with respect should you find her." He paused, gaze in the middle distance. "She can turn Gembounds inside out with a wave," he added, without really thinking of the grim nature of such a statement. Because his mind was back on wine.

Nemean might've been a recommendation, but Nemean... tended toward harder liquor. Usually mixed with insane amounts of sugar. And color. And twisty straws. Her drinks were fun, but they were hardly elegant.

...Right! Conversation! He shook his head and looked back to Callista yet again and this time tried to twist his rigid ugly mug into something like a smile. It didn't work.

"Anyway," and he tried to brighten his tone a little, "by 'culture' I do not mean to insult this..." He looked around. Tried to come up with some descriptor that wasn't insulting, too. Failed, again. "...Place." He paused. "Ahem. By 'culture,' I mean..." He trailed off again, claws tapping the wooden tankard, and settled back on the Valkhound-sized stool as he considered his words. Ah! He had it! He looked to Callista, brightening. "Music, history, architecture that comes from historical examples. Do you understand? -Peoples who spent centuries or millennia developing those things. It is... not for everyone. It can be overly stiff. Formal. Proper, and too clean for many. But you will see what I mean if you visit it."

Right, but he was rambling. In a lame attempt to make two-way conversation, he nodded to Callista again. "I assume you have not been to Cepheus at all? That is the cave. Are you young, then? I find that many of those I meet have travelled surprisingly little. Some have hardly strayed from the cave in which they hatched. And you?"

Damn, he was doing SO good at this talking thing.

@Callista

I used to think that the day would never come
I'd see the light in the shade of the morning sun

Vargas had a lot to say and Callista found herself zoning out a bit during his long ramble. She wasn't used to people talking this much to her. Her interest had very quickly gone from "maybe this guy has something that I want" to "this guy probably has something that I want but jeez what a long winded way of finding out about it." He wasn't even really talking about himself. She really didn't care about culture, that just felt like an unimportant concept to her at the moment, but she had noted to herself to go visit the palace sometime. If only to try the wine.

She just kind of nodded along, doing her best to look interested, but he was talking so much and she had little to offer in return besides the occasional "Wow." and "Oh, okay." and such things as that.

But finally...she could put a response in that she knew, as soon as he asked her a question, the faint haze left her eyes and she actually said something of substance. "I've been, but just in passing. Saw the palace from afar." She frowned a little at the "young" question. She was not young! ...anymore. "Uh I'm not a baby, if that's what you're asking? I'm grown. Thirteen cycles I think." To her, it felt like a long time, unaware of the millenia she was talking to.

"I travel enough. I haven't been everywhere, but I've been to enough places. I hatched in Orion, but I've been to Leo and Pegasus and stuff. I'm partial to Orion, though, I like the stars. Lots of places to hang out and its not far from here." Ah, here was a good moment to interject a bit of questioning about Vargas himself. "What about you? You look well-traveled - any caves you find particularly interesting or find yourself frequenting?"

That my life would depend on the evening moon
That the night would never comе

@Vargas