[The Stranger's Welcome] More than one Stranger [Sondra]

[Talen Stirling]

Timestamp: An evening of Early Winter, date TBD. A cold wind and memories that weren't his own had Talen rushing through the streets in a huddled run, looking for solace in the warmth and degtine of the Stranger's Welcome. Rounding a corner he skidded into a break, straightened his shirt and ruffled his hair habitually before entering the beckoning glow of the tavern doors. The voice of a woman he had never spoken to scolding him for being late echoed in his ears, and he missed his eyes against the onslaught of it. The fire inside and bright lamps dazed him for a moment, but he made his way towards the bar in a blind rush, attempting to swerve inbetween a few patrons seated close by the entrance and those standing at the counter with mumbled apoligies and squinted eyes. The drinks at the table and their promise of silencing the cries of a man who no longer lived sent him walking at a hurried pace. The guilty acknowledgement that she who was no longer would not approve of him drinking had him even more determined to do so. Wherever these strange memories came from didn't matter, he had come up with a way to drown them. Even if William Larkspur didn't drink after he had a child, that sentiment must have been buried alongside it.

[Sondra]

"Lady-Lis, where's the petching fire?" A Konti stood at the bar, shaking drops of spilled degtine off her fingers. Talen had jostled the standing crew enough to shake a few mugs. Considering what her own memories were, the question reeked of irony. Sondra wiped the damp hand on her pants, ever elegant. The Konti had been in a hurry to get drunk more than once in her life, so she couldn't be too irritated. She stared into her mug, it would take several bouts with this vintage to get good and sloppily drunk and she was too broke to make that magic happen. Zeltiva had a kelp beer that tasted like Laviku's piss, but gods was it powerful. She couldn't say she missed its flavor, but she did miss its effects. As much as she wanted to drown troubles, it would be embarrassing to drunkenly stumble back to a house of charity, so Sondra cherished her meager mug of respite and sipped it slowly. Everyone else could be in a hurry, for once, she was going to pace herself.

[Talen Stirling]

Talen bumped shoulders with a local as he connected with the desk of the bartable, receiving a few hissed curses and uttering an absent minded apology with a brief glance down the row of people. A brief glance that he repeated half a second again when a pale stranger caught his attention. He stared for a moment. A Konti judging by the scaled hand shaking degtine off her fingers and her fair appearance. His curiosity was peaked by her foreign beauty, even with everything going on something new and pretty was enough to pique the village boy curiosity within him. The way she looked into her cup, aloof and foreign, she looked anything but merry for a tavern-goer. Where'd she come from, to their frozen end of the world for winter? With a jerk of his head and a wave of his hand he called over Oleg, ordering a pint of degtine for himself, his foreign memories all but forgotten. As soon as he received it he took a healthy drink, the familiar heat bringing liquid courage and calm as he made his way towards wherever the konti lady had gone to sit herself. She looked delicate, but there was something off-setting about her demeanour. He couldn't place it, but he guessed she was no girl in need of salvation from anyone. He closed in carefully, a kind although to the persceptive slightly forced smile greeting her if she set eyes upon him. "Welcome to Denval stranger, can I join you for the evening?" He almost grinned then but kept the childish motion in check, although what little accent he was still unable to hide crept into his voice. There was a nervous exhilaration in meeting strangers in a bar, one that easily let you escape dark memories and thoughts. Even if they weren't your own.

[Sondra]

When a table opened, Sondra abandoned the bar for it, eager for a bit more space and a spot to sit. The slicing winter air made her bones ache and stick, so sitting down was a relief. Mura had been temperate, but now she was in some cold finger of the world. Maybe there was a reason Denval lay undiscovered for so long, no one from the outside wanted to endure its winters. Her table was not unassailed for long. A cheery looking fellow was asking to share it. The Konti gave Talen an obvious and inelegant once over, in all truth it was more of a "twice" over. But tallying such things was tricky business. Too pretty by half. "I'm old enough to be your mother, if that's what you're after." She tapped her slowly draining mug with one white finger. "But if you're a dear and get mummy another drink I'll tell your fortune." A grin sundered her expression, muddying the waters of understanding. Was she being serious?

[Talen Stirling]

Talen didn't mind the inspection, and returned her glance with a patient smile lit up by bright eyes. He flickered in his mirth at her next comment though, unsure whether to laugh or take what she said seriously. He figured looks could be deceiving with their kin, and he knew little of how they aged. Except for stories, stories of eternal beauty and strange lands. He wasn't sure if that was what he was after anyway, he hadn't really been looking for such originally. He reached for a chair on the table as she spoke again, but froze with a stupefied look of confusion on his face. "Fortune..?" He pulled out the chair slowly, hesitantly, eyeing her carefully. He sat down, then glanced her over again with a wondering expression. "You don't look so old. Can you tell futures?" A nervous smile danced at the corner of his lip for a moment as he waited for an answer, but even before he could receive one, he turned around and yelled a bright cry in Denvali at a barmaid for two pints more with two fingers dancing in the air. He turned back towards her in a blurr of moving curls and smiles. "My name is Talen Stirling. It is nice to meet you, ancient fortune teller." He looked like he would laugh then, but instead turned around to receive the two drinks brought to them with a grateful comment to the waitress. One was pushed across the table eagerly even as he took a sip of his own.

[Sondra]

Cocking her grin to the side, Sondra finished sizing the man up. He was game and didn't pickle under a jest, good enough for a drinking partner. Especially since he wasn't adverse to buying. She lifted her glass and eyebrows in a appreciative toast. "To Mister Stirling." She took an unbecoming gulp before answering in turn. "Sondra Kore. Don't bother with the family name, Sondra suits." After dabbing her mouth with the back of her hand she continued. "And yes, I do tell fortunes. For the real thing you need a tool or two and it's mildly unpleasant." The Konti took another swig. "But if you just want shykes and giggles, I'll read your palm and pull something believable from my ass." Realizing her tongue was taking her further than she like, Sondra bit it a moment before continuing. "Don't mind me. I swear by Cheva's tit that I'm better spoken in Kontinese. This is what happens when you learn most your common in Sunberth." She pushed her mug around with her fingertips, here eyes suddenly narrowing with a bit of interest. "Why would you want your fortune told, sonny? Something special troubling you?" Lately it seemed something was troubling everyone in Denval.