Timestamp: 83rd of Autumn, 513AV
Rosela strongly suspected the bartender wanted to ask them to leave, but Preskon’s continuous flow of drinks seemed to be staying the woman’s hand. The bar was empty and the tables surrounding them long since cleaned. The fire still crackled though, and though Rosela’s head was now continuously leaned into one hand, she kept talking. Preskon seemed to be solidly unaffected by the alcohol, though he had relaxed and seemed to laugh more.
Rosela was grateful she was not so drunk as to not realize it, and had safely stowed her hypnotism away for the night. In a moment of musing early on, she wondered if drunk hypnotism on a sober person would be more or less effective. On one hand, the ramblings of a drunk could easily pass for the ramblings of internal thoughts. On the other, she’d probably completely miss it if she had messed up and let Preskon onto her meddlings. That notion alone was enough to temporarily sober her up.
They had moved onto more personal topics, and Preskon seemed far better able to ramble on about his family, rather than the back and forth he had perpetuated when talking about the business world.
“I just didn’t have the heart for it, I didn’t.”
”See, that why they keep doing it.” The alcohol had her feeling very comfortable with the older man, and she poked him hard in the arm to emphasize her point. ”Unless you take a stand, they’ll never stop.”
“Aaah,” he waved her off. “You sound like my oldest daughter.”
”Well, it sounds like she knows what she’s talking about. Why don’t they start their own businesses instead of mooching.” Preskon laughed, and Rosela belatedly realized she’d slipped into Arumenic. ”Sorry. You know, instead of…” She searched for a less insulting phrase for what she thought of his bloodsucking family. ”Borrowing. …All the time.”
“Many do,” Preskon replied with a slightly defensive air, but Rosela only cocked an eyebrow. A gravelly laughed escaped him and he took a solid drink of his ale. “I mean that. If every single member wanted only to live on my fortune, I’d be bankrupt in a year. It really is just my great grandchildren…” His voice dropped and for a moment, he seemed to talk to his glass. “Now, my grandchildren, they had my heart… Such drive, every one of them.”
"And the great grandchildren?"
"Ah, I don't know what happened with them. There's a couple good apples, and you can bet every one finished their studies, but so many of them have no real passion. Particularly the girls; not that there's anything wrong with being a wife and mother," he added quickly. "But I'd so wish to see them take up a trade."
Rosela made an effort not the wrinkle her nose. She'd been in that place once - content only to rule her home and live off of the wealth of others. It was the way of the Gilded, the way she'd grown up with. Now that she'd tasted her independence though...she pitied the poor women of Preskon's great granddaughters.
Note :
Rosela strongly suspected the bartender wanted to ask them to leave, but Preskon’s continuous flow of drinks seemed to be staying the woman’s hand. The bar was empty and the tables surrounding them long since cleaned. The fire still crackled though, and though Rosela’s head was now continuously leaned into one hand, she kept talking. Preskon seemed to be solidly unaffected by the alcohol, though he had relaxed and seemed to laugh more.
Rosela was grateful she was not so drunk as to not realize it, and had safely stowed her hypnotism away for the night. In a moment of musing early on, she wondered if drunk hypnotism on a sober person would be more or less effective. On one hand, the ramblings of a drunk could easily pass for the ramblings of internal thoughts. On the other, she’d probably completely miss it if she had messed up and let Preskon onto her meddlings. That notion alone was enough to temporarily sober her up.
They had moved onto more personal topics, and Preskon seemed far better able to ramble on about his family, rather than the back and forth he had perpetuated when talking about the business world.
“I just didn’t have the heart for it, I didn’t.”
”See, that why they keep doing it.” The alcohol had her feeling very comfortable with the older man, and she poked him hard in the arm to emphasize her point. ”Unless you take a stand, they’ll never stop.”
“Aaah,” he waved her off. “You sound like my oldest daughter.”
”Well, it sounds like she knows what she’s talking about. Why don’t they start their own businesses instead of mooching.” Preskon laughed, and Rosela belatedly realized she’d slipped into Arumenic. ”Sorry. You know, instead of…” She searched for a less insulting phrase for what she thought of his bloodsucking family. ”Borrowing. …All the time.”
“Many do,” Preskon replied with a slightly defensive air, but Rosela only cocked an eyebrow. A gravelly laughed escaped him and he took a solid drink of his ale. “I mean that. If every single member wanted only to live on my fortune, I’d be bankrupt in a year. It really is just my great grandchildren…” His voice dropped and for a moment, he seemed to talk to his glass. “Now, my grandchildren, they had my heart… Such drive, every one of them.”
"And the great grandchildren?"
"Ah, I don't know what happened with them. There's a couple good apples, and you can bet every one finished their studies, but so many of them have no real passion. Particularly the girls; not that there's anything wrong with being a wife and mother," he added quickly. "But I'd so wish to see them take up a trade."
Rosela made an effort not the wrinkle her nose. She'd been in that place once - content only to rule her home and live off of the wealth of others. It was the way of the Gilded, the way she'd grown up with. Now that she'd tasted her independence though...she pitied the poor women of Preskon's great granddaughters.
