Closed The Soirée

(Invitation & Zandelia) Drinks, plans and easy celebrations

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

The Soirée

Postby Kaie on July 12th, 2015, 5:58 am

The little birds in Sunberth could sing rumors of the Red Wolf to one another all they wanted, but if there was one thing Kaie could confirm about the woman, it was that her hospitality skills were utterly unparalleled. Not a tick after she strolled in was a cup pressed into her unoccupied hand. The very sensation made her eyes brighten and liver whimper. Catching sight of all the alcoholic variety and good company in her midst, the Myrian couldn't help but offer up a broad grin.

"Ah, that's just enough then!" the savage jibed and offered Fallon a friendly pat on the shoulder before raising her cup soon after to receive the good stuff. The sound of the container filling with the substance body and mind so desired. Her gaze was borderline lustful having gotten a mere whiff of what the bottle had to boast. There was a tick the woman paused when she eyed the mystery drink so graciously put in her possession. The cup was lifted as if she planned to sniff it, but the cup was tipped back to her lips instead so that she might drink heartily.

"Gods, that's petching good!" the Myrian practically spluttered when her throat experienced the burn along with the rest of her body. Her smile widened in pleasant surprise. Now that's a drink! Yet soon she had her cup raised in an unofficial celebratory toast, lest she forgot the very reason they were gathered there. "Aye, I'll drink to that. To another year wiser!" Again the alcohol was consumed by the zealous Myrian before the cup was refilled thereafter. More guests made their late arrival. The first was a complete stranger to her, a square-jawed man with Syna-kissed skin whose Common left her puzzled. Quickly, she committed his name, apparently Ricky, to memory. The second was more familiar to the woman, and drew her toward the door with a loud laugh.

"The petch's a Wave Guard anyhow?" The door tugged open to reveal their beloved Uncle. The Myrian feigned to shut it in his face before yanking it open again with a teasing smirk. A tawny hand gestured him inside with a grand flourish. "Well come on! There's plenty of liquor to go around!" The cup tipped back again to thirsty lips. It would seem the party was quickly turning into a game of blackout, and the Myrian didn't mind it one bit.

"Hey, Nov!" Kaie called over her shoulder, shutting the door behind Pulren once he'd made his way inside. "Cook one for me, will ya?" The very notion of Noven's cooking had her mouth watering. If nothing else, it was probably best she got some good in her before she was intoxicated enough to try and sing along to one of Zandelia's drunken melodies.

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