Parched (Closed)

[Emalay]

Timestamp: Thirty-fifth of Summer, 512 AV
Where: Alvadas, Surf and Turf
Who: Emalay, Norae, Dasvek, Naama Closed.

The strong cords of shoulder muscle bunched, straining as the anchor was hefted and dropped over the side of the boat. Emalay let out a little oof as the stupidly heavy metal thing tumbled from her hands. Grasping the railing, the Myrian woman peered down into the waters as the rope at her feet rapidly uncoiled... and kept going... and still kept going.

"Wow, Das, are you sure we couldn't have gone in any closer?" Tossing the words over her shoulder, the wind caught them and whipped them over to the other Casnior that floated nearby. When the rope finally snapped taught, Emalay shook her head and stepped back towards the center of the boat. A quick check of inventory was done, those things deemed unnecessary stowed carefully in a little hidden compartment somewhere on the deck before the woman's attention was turned to her traveling companion. Dasvek's boat bobbed with the gentle rise and fall of the sea not far away, though he was no where to be seen...as usual.

Slinging her back over her shoulder, double checking the plethora of knives that she kept stashed about her person, Emalay grabbed the long board that had lain tucked against the railing closest to Dasvek's boat. It had once been a tree, fallen in a storm and carefully carved until it was flat on both sides. With careful leverage, her feet bracing the end of the board that rested upon her own deck, Emalay started lowering it towards the other Myrian's boat. Gently letting off her end by picking up her foot, the board came down with a solid thunk on the other boats railing. "Ay! Das!"

Waiting only a moment or two for the man to respond, Emalay bounded graceufully onto the board whether he appeared or not; had he been there to hold the farside steady, it would have made things much easier. Either way, it was like walking a stronger, wider balance wire. With her arms held out to the sides, one foot was carefully placed infront of the other, pale brown eyes locked on the waters below as she watched for each surge of the waves; too many times had she been looking up or forward, placing her next step only to find the board having dropped a few more inches than she expected. Enough tumbles into the salty water and a lesson is learned.

The dip that she was expecting came, and Emalay leapt, sending herself up into the air for more than enough time for the boat to raise back into position. The leap turned into a silly pirouette before bent in half, hands grasping the board as she then flipped her body into a roundoff. The simple maneuver brought her onto Dasvek's deck, the normally fierce woman's face lit in a rare grin as she turned to haul the board off the railing and drag it back onboard.

[Dasvek]

Dasvek was lost in a glorious dream, his tanned body wedged between his drum, spear, and the railing of the Hungry Rhythm. He was on the beaches of Myri's jungle, a snake kebab between his teeth, the meaty juices running down his chin and chest, while he strummed out a powerful beat on his wardrums, a beat that carried over all the jungle. Animals were crying to the rhythm, Dhani hid from the powerful strikes, and every Myrian brother and sister were on the beach, dancing in unison to his sound. Myri herself came up and was dancing for him, in front of his drums, her moves powerful, her steps mighty, her gaze fierce. A powerful THUMP brought the entire jungle to total silence. Myri walked forward in all strength and aggressive beauty, her mouth opened, "Ay! Das!"

His eyes fluttered open as a pair of feet landed gracefully on the deck inches from his face. He took one look at the sky, and knew they needed to be going soon, "Ema, do you really have to prance all over my ship? Some of us like to enjoy Nysel's gifts. Get your stuff ready, we have to be there early so they can get you ready. The Surf and Turf right?" He sat up, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and flicked it, droplets spraying the backs of Ema's legs. He grabbed a hold of the railing behind him, and pulled himself up to a wobbling standing position. He bent over, grabbed the straps of his drum, and slung it over his back. He then began removing all the various weapons, save a single knife, from his person. "That blondie said we have to check our weapons at the door. Like we need them." He rolled his eyes at this, then hopped onto the rail of his ship, facing hers. He hopped over to the board and quickly and clumsily ran along the length of it, and tripped onto her ship, kicking the board backwards. If Ema didn't react quickly, the board would fall into surf.

Dasvek moved quickly along her ship, and hopped into the water and began swimming for the craggy coast. Their destination wasn't part of the city proper, but just outside of it. His arms and legs kicked wildly as he whitefoamed his way toward the bar, visible from this side of the ships. He couldn't get to the underwater entrance with the drum on his back, so he landed at the rocky shore, and waited for Ema to catch up. He found the stone steps and led them down the entryway, stopped by some voiceless Svefra. Poor Bastard. The man held out his hand, and Dasvek handed over his knife, and was allowed entry into the Surf and Turf.

The pair were approached by the blonde proprietor, nude and painted in shades of green, purple, and blue. "Welcome you two, musicians are against the far wall, drinks are free for you, but don't get out of control. You, Emalay, come with me, we need to get you painted up. Dasvek, you can play whatever you want, but don't interrupt the other musicians, understood? Good. Now get ready, we open to the public in a bell."

Dasvek smiled and placed his wardrum along the wall and made his way over to the bar. Some little brunette girl appeared, "Girl, gimme three shots of whatever you have that's strong. And something to chew on. I'm with the entertainment."

The girl returned with three shots, each a different color, and a bowl of something fried and green. Dasvek sat on the stool, and turn to face Emalay in her preparations. He downed the first shot in one swig, the spice biting his throat. This was strong stuff. "What is this stuff girl?" "Sp-spiced Rum. The orange one is f-fruity rum, and the other is straight up. That's fried gourd rinds. I-I hope you like 'em." He turned back, plucked one of the rinds up and bit into the battered coating. Crisp, fresh, and fatty. Perfection in a bowl. He continued to eat his order, downed his remaining shots, fighting a wince at the pure rum, and watching the preparations. He still had a halfbell til opening, and began eyeballing all the painted up women walking around, a smirk on his face.