[ AW ] First Footing

A R Y T H M E T I K

After reciting his poetry and engaging in several conversations, Arythmetik realized how sore his throat was. The scholar’s glistening, emerald eyes gazed behind the frames of his birch-and-willow bark mask. He was looking for something, or rather, someone. But he and Grigori had only been apart for an hour or so (who was counting?) and Aryth wanted to give his friend a chance to truly dip into the culture of Rionnach. And so, Aryth’s focus landed on the banquet instead, the savory scents and thirst-quenching promises luring him. He weaved through the crowd, occasionally bumped by a tipsy noblewoman’s hips or a loud and blundering mainlander. He noticed the party was getting rowdier. He hadn’t had a chance to dance yet, but then again, that wasn’t why he attended King Adamh’s ball in the first place.


When Aryth arrived at the table, he shrugged casually and took one or two fermented berries. It wouldn’t do much to lower his inhibitions, but it did begin to ease his parched throat. He sat quite near the array of delicacies, his russet coat shining in the flickering firelight. Realizing he was a bit peckish, too, he grabbed a turkey leg and took small, idle bites. The basil and dried thyme seasonings were nearly enough to whisk him away to Olympus, but he determined to stay grounded. Once more, his gaze wandered, this time to the nobles crowding around the royal couple. Was it fair to assume that King Adamh threw this party to stroke his own ego? Or was this an earnest gesture, a token of normalcy after a devastating year? The Junior Professor wanted to make an educated judgment for himself. Clearing his throat, he commented to a wolf sitting nearby, “The feast is otherworldly. How long do you think it took to prepare this event?”

code by claerie

@Nassar or @Victorian ;)

Kylar, having found the berry bushels so innocently, realized the magic that alcohol had on one's nerves. Her early anxiety seemed to melt away with each overripe blueberry that touched her tongue, and who was she to try and bundle back up again? Even her foreleg seemed to hurt less and a pleasant, cotton candy feeling had her floating on cloud nine. A black-tipped ear twitched and she glanced lazily to the right. Where's Nephele? "Hmmmm," she answered for herself as she took a large bite off of the slab of boar she'd waddled away with earlier.

Had she ever tasted something so divine?

“The feast is otherworldly. How long do you think it took to prepare this event?” Asked the person to her left and she answered immediately, eyes closing as she tipped back her head. "Two legs and three tails were lost putting this all together—!" Of course, he had asked how long, not what was sacrificed, but Kylar's alcohol addled brain didn't care.

She turned her gaze matter-of-factly on the man and, immediately, ruby eyes lit up as a spark of warmth and familiarity crossed over her features. "Arythma—fuckin'—tik!" Her good paw lifted to slap him on the shoulder. "How'rya doin' partner?" The drunk Professor asked, pleased to see her Junior here at the event.

@Arythmetik

A R Y T H M E T I K

A distinctly familiar voice startled the scholar, and Aryth whipped his head to the right. All at once, the Junior Professor was immensely comforted and mildly perturbed. His eyes flickered between the red-eyed woman and the soldier standing at attention just beyond their bubble. He’d tried to subtly, smoothly, get the attention of the Imperial wolf. Clearly, he wasn’t good at this sort of thing. Instead, he’d gotten the attention of his...drunk? friend. Her voice slurred just so and Aryth blinked helplessly as he watched her notice him, seemingly in slow-motion. But once the disappointment of his own failure passed, Aryth was flooded with a sense of relief. It was better that he didn’t make a fool of himself in front of a soldier. And besides, he felt a touch more confident with Kylar here.


“Oh!” he blurted, flinching slightly as the tough woman clapped him on the shoulder. An awkward smile crossed his lips, but the light that shimmered in his gaze was warm and friendly now that he’d processed her current state. “K-Kylar! I’m well—very well, actually.” It was true. He came to this Ball with a good friend (actually, where was Grigori now?), his performance went smoothly, and he met some truly interesting faces in the crowd. Not to mention this was the best food he’d ever eaten in his humble life. As the scholar regained his composure, he scooted closer to the herbalist and grinned wryly. “Fancy seeing you here. You seem to be having a grand time yourself.”


Suddenly Aryth paused, remembering what stumbled out of Kylar’s mouth moments before. “Were you serious about wolves losing limbs over this?” he asked urgently, quietly. “How do you know?”

code by claerie

@Kylar

Kylar's gaze was unfocused but jovial as she stared at Arythmetik's face, only occasionally holding eye contact. When she did, her smile would widen a little more before the gentle rock of alcohol would cause her attention to drift to his forehead or nose or cheek. Each time he spoke, however, her eyes would flick back to his and the cycle would repeat again.

As he scooted closer with a conspiratorial grin, she hiccupped and nodded, a Cheshire smile on her lips. "Oh yes," she answered. "Have you tried one of these?" Kylar questioned, brow scrunching as she held up a branch with overripened berries. The stem teeter-tottered on the back of her forepaw with surprising skill—but was that not the secret super power of drunks? No coordination, always stumbling and wobbling, yet somehow able to not spill a single drop.

"Juniper!" she slurred, lifting her paw up decisively and allowing the stem to flop back on the oakwood table.

At his earnest questioning, a black-tipped ear twitched and her Cheshire smile became wolfish. "Are you scared, Aryth?" Her laughter sounded almost like a witch's cackle and she chuckled as if Arythmetik had fallen into a grand ol' trap. Alas, it was likely that only she found this so funny. "Boo!" Kylar mused, jolting forward with her paws lifted to spook him. Only her balance was off and she flopped slightly, forcing her left paw to prop herself back up through the aid of his shoulder.

@Arythmetik

A R Y T H M E T I K

Ah. So she was drunk on Juniper berries. Aryth laughed a full-bellied laugh as Kylar flopped the bunch back on the table without ceremony. “Now I don’t know if I want them more or less,” he teased. The scholar doubted that his inebriated friend would fully understand his joke. But he had to admit, it was tempting to let everything go. Forget his mission. Forget his manners. Go back to thinking about how close Grigori had come to—


Suddenly, Kylar’s face twisted in mischief. The male’s brows furrowed, but he honestly wasn’t expecting her to try and startle him. “Oof!” he huffed as the woman, who weighed at least as much as he did, fell forward onto his shoulders. The scholar teetered, but he was able to brace himself, holding up his companion with effort. One of his paws pressed against her side to stabilize her. And, as soon as she regained her balance, push her off of him.


“I’m not scared,” he practically hissed into her face, rolling his eyes. “I’m trying…” But he didn’t finish that statement. After a moment, he calmed down and his heart softened. This conversation would be more fun if they were both drunk. But he’d probably give himself away as a Jacobite like a damn fool. With an endearing smile, Aryth shook his head and nudged Kylar. “You’re the drunk one, so what are you so scared of, hm?”

code by claerie

@Kylar

Kylar grunted at Arythmetik's teasing. Not because she fully heard or understood what he said, but she could comprehend the tone easily enough. Ruby eyes rolled and her brow lifted, attention refocusing on the slab of wood upon which her prizes rested. Unfortunately, her supply was waning. It was a cosmic good but the drunk definitely felt a pang of saddness.

As her moment of mischief came to a poorly balanced end, Kylar teetered awkwardly but managed to stay standing. Her hip leaned against the wooden edge of the "table", and her eyes narrowed slightly at Aryth. For a moment, she felt a flash of youthful annoyance. None of it was justified, but it took little to rile a drunk—and less to distract one.

Arythmetik's face creased and she was certain she should focus on him, and yet something kept snagging her attention and tossing it away. It was over at the western side of the hall. Wolves. More of them...? They were clustering, like clover where the soil was fertile.

And some, in the sea of voices and sounds, seemed angry.

... "...what are you scared of, hm?" Aryth jested and Kylar paused, her brain slowly wading through the fog.

"My family," she drawled, brow knitting. For a mere moment, she caught a single thread of clarity. "My family, I need to get them—" Kylar teetered somewhat as she rose to her paws. The poorly healed paw didn't help much. "I'll be back," she promised, not realizing that it was an empty one.

"Talk then, yeah?" And with a nod she began to hobble away, not quite aware of who she shoved or jostled out of the way.

- exit kylar -

@Arythmetik

A R Y T H M E T I K

Aryth sighed, a stream of hot air sizzling from his nostrils. He was too sober for this. But he wasn’t angry; his brows contorted inward with helpless confusion as his friend wobbled against the table. There was no point in trying to talk to Kylar right now. The scholar kept glancing between his ruby-eyed counterpart and the soldiers down at the end of the banquet table. Neither were paying attention to him. In fact, the larger the pause in their conversation grew, the more their attention was drawn by something behind him. When Kylar finally said something in her gruff drawl, the Junior Professor almost started again. She hurried past him with nary a farewell, and soon the soldiers he’d been eying before started to meander that way too.


Arythmetik turned, about to call after her: ‘I just saw your daughter! I can help you look.’ But surely they were all there, in the crowd. A crowd of dancers. “Well,” he hummed to himself, “why fight them when you can join them?” He meant that completely metaphorically, of course. His Jacobite heart was about to be tested, but not broken. Of course, he didn’t know any of that. He only knew that he was alone again, and he missed Grigori, and he needed to learn more about the purpose of this banquet. So...why not get closer to the King?


The scholar, awkward and far too sober, made his way to the dance floor.


Exit.

code by claerie

Fin! <3