[ OPEN ] Mareuer Event & Catch-All

[tryhard]

Who: Waver Velvet & YOU??
When: throughout March
Where: Aefenglom
What: working, chilling, some festival stuff maybe???
Warnings: n/a for now; will add as needed



a. teatime & overtime

Who knew co-running a small business would involve so much... paperwork? And math?? Sometimes, when even Waver gets tired of the more tedious necessities, a change of scenery is good for motivation.

He likes Diplomatea. It's comfortable, the atmosphere is calming, and the scent is familiar (especially when Diarmuid is on shift). Generally, it's a great place to spend a couple of hours sipping tea and catching up on inventory logbooks or budget or whatever it is he needs to get done that doesn't involve actually being at Inkchanted that day.

The downside is he does tend to take up a whole table for himself, notebooks spread out everywhere, racking up empty teacups. Sometimes, books even spill onto the second chair, or he uses it to house his satchel or briefcase. Oh-- Did you want to borrow that? Were you looking for a place to sit and noticed this table-hog in the way? Whoops!!

Or maybe it's time for a concerned friend to tell this idiot to take a freaking break once in a while. Seriously. How many cups of black tea has he had??


b. thunder only happens when it's raining

[ As if the rain wasn't enough of a pain in the ass. Growing up in England, Waver's plenty used to it in theory, but with spring on the horizon (and the recent trips to the Wilde, where it was sunny even if it was a bit too hot), just because he's not unaccustomed to rain doesn't mean that Waver's not ready for it to stop.

Especially when the sky decides to open up rather suddenly on a hitherto clear day, dumping heavy rain and deafening thunder into the city streets.

The harsh noise makes him jump, canine ears pinned down flat against his hair, heart beating fast. The distant rumbling of another wave of thunder makes his neck prickle and his fists clench. Did it always used to bother him so much...?

Caught out without an umbrella, Waver makes a dash for the nearest awning, barely even checking if that space is already occupied by anyone with a similar idea. ]


c. fun & festivities

"...are you supposed to eat these?"

Waver stares down at the clear (presumably alcoholic?) beverage he's just been handed by a native passing them around, frowning in vague confusion at the flowers floating on top.

When he looks up, though, the laughing harpy woman who'd pressed the cup into his hands is gone. Maybe someone else heard his question and has an opinion on the matter?

Or maybe it's about twenty seconds later, at which point Waver is holding one of the blossoms between his fingers, staring at it with a suspicious frown before delicately tearing a single petal off between his teeth.

Hm.


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Comments

A. Teatime

[rollfordiplomacy]

[Contrary to the business sense it would make to clear tables quickly, Everett is most encouraging of his customers to linger. Particularly his fellow Mirrorbound. It created a more casually industrious environment that way, one where you could relax, but also enjoy the energy of others being productive.

Waver isn't someone he formally knows, but he is encouraging of the young man to do his work. However, he did need to be cut off the caffeine. Everett moves a teacart up to the side of the turnskin's table and parks it there, granting him an additional square of space for the tea to reside, well away from his paperwork. He can clear off the used cups and pots on the bottom level of that cart.]

Messere, if my eyes don't deceive, I'd say you're getting a bit shaky. Have an herbal tea, next. You'll suffer the jitters, given much more black or green.

[tryhard]

[ Waver starts a little when the cart rolls up, having been too focused on his work to really pay attention to anyone approaching. His ears twitch and swivel toward the voice before he looks up, blinking as if surprised to find himself in a public place.

Right.

Waver glances down at his empty cups and then over at the proprietor again with a sheepish scowl. ]

I'm not shaky. I'm used to caffeine.

[ Is that really any... better?? ]

Did know you walked around offering recommendations.

[rollfordiplomacy]

I offer what I can, lad. You're quite the busy bee, I don't wish to get in your way, usually. I admire the ethic towards your work.

[he pours a fresh cup for Waver as he speaks, setting it in front of him. A orange zest of an herbal mix, flavorful and invigorating without the jitters. He stays leaned in so he can offer a hand for the young man to shake, his height wouldn't allow him to do so while upright and still reach]

A pleasure to formally meet you. I've seen you about regularly, but again, no wish to disturb. Everett Vaughan, ambassador of the Springtide clan.

[tryhard]

[ Mollified, Waver takes the hand, offering a polite handshake. His claws are neatly trimmed, no danger of scratches. ]

Pleased to meet you too, Mr. Vaughan.

[ Ambassador to whatnow?? ]

I'm Waver. Waver Velvet. You're the owner of this establishment...?

[rollfordiplomacy]

[Everett's shake is firm, but respectful, confident without being brashly so. His gloved hands are mindful of potential claws, he's used to those]

That I am, Mr. Velvet. Is that the title you wish me call you by? I do my best to respect other's preferences of manner. My people tend to use Sir, but Everett is just fine for me, if you do not mind the informality.

b. thunder

[prophexy]

[As it happens, the nearest awning is currently occupied by a slightly damp Elezen man, clutching a newly-purchased book to his chest to keep it from the sudden rain. His attention was focused on the sky and trying to guess when it might stop, so he doesn't notice Waver's approach until he's nearly jostled.]

Steady, now. There is room enough for two to take shelter.

[Even when one of them is well over six feet tall.]

[tryhard]

Wh-whoops! Sorry, I didn't see--

[ Waver wobbles, quickly stepping aside and adjusting so they can both fit under the awning side by side instead of him trying to apparently mow down the poor stranger and slam them both into the wall behind.

Ugh, how embarrassing.

And, speaking of which-- another roll of thunder makes the fur on the back of Waver's neck stand on end. He almost starts growling, lip curled for a moment, ears down. Annoyed, he has to consciously unclench his fists. ]

It just startled me, is all. Didn't mean to crash into you like that. I hope the rain lets up soon...

You all right?

[prophexy]

No harm done. [He glances briefly back at the sky.] I am yet unfamiliar with the specifics of the local clime, so I dare not guess how long this unexpected fury may endure.

[And then it's back to studying Waver and his body language. Sometimes the strangest thing about this place is the familiarity; were it not for the distinctly canine tail, this young man might pass for a Miqo'te. His tension is obvious, regardless.]

Art thou in a great hurry to reach thy destination?

[tryhard]

You don't have to be so, er... formal.

[ Waver eyes the stranger curiously, surprised by his turn of phrase. Even the older native residents of this city didn't usually talk that way.

At least it makes for a decent distraction. The question about his hurry makes Waver redden slightly, and turns to glare out at the stormy sky. ]

Not... really. I just didn't want to stay out in the rain, but guess that's a moot point now. Maybe waiting it out a bit will be better.

Ugh, it's really coming down...

[prophexy]

[A slight smile.] If thou findest my manner of speech difficult to comprehend, I shall be happy to clarify for thy sake, but for myself 'tis what I have long been accustomed to.

[He returns his gaze to the sky, following Waver's.] I had been considering the use of a spell to ward off the rain, if it continues so. I see little reason such an effort could not include both of us, but it would be a first attempt, and I cannot guarantee the length of the effect's endurance.

a

[bloodwit]

[ even with the calming atmosphere, it's a busy hour. viren had emerged from a backroom with a stack of papers, his monstrous instincts pushing him to find company even if he plans on little socialization. sitting on the outskirts tends to do perfectly well for him — regrettably, just about every table is occupied. his eyes skims over the crowded area, until it lands upon a familiar head of hair and ears. ]

[ well — that would have to do. ]

[ he approaches, halts at the edge of waver's table. his gaze flicks from the stack of tea cups, the open notebooks, the engrossed turnskin responsible. ]

[ viren heaves a deep sigh. then, shifting papers, he drums his claws against the table's surface, hard and loud enough that the noise hopefully draws attention. ]

You may have to try to contain yourself, [ he announces, with a lifting of his chin, ] to a single space.

[tryhard]

[ It certainly does draw attention. Waver jumps, startled out of his concentration by that awful clicking-claw noise on the wood. His head snaps up, ears back and eyes flashing.

This scent is already all over the tea house. Waver hadn't noticed.

He bites back a sigh. ]

...ah. You're here.

[ He looks around. ]

You got a problem with me being here?

[bloodwit]

—I have a problem with you taking up the entire table.

[ a clarification; with waver's attention, he draws the hands back, letting his arm fall to his side. but then he gestures with it towards waver's studious mess of productivity. ]

[ now, much more directly: ]

Kindly [ somewhat sardonic use, that adverb ] move your things.

[tryhard]

I didn't realize I was expected to share. I've purchased enough tea for two or more, you know.

[ Waver scowls up at him, without making a move to scoot aside. Maybe if he'd been asked more politely, but he sees no sense in it anyway. ]

Don't you work here? Are you sure you should be harassing your paying customers this way? ...again.

[bloodwit]

[ viren anticipated this; he gives waver (a very likely shared sentiment) a look of, why are you such a pain in my ass. he loves being an employee of some caliber, hates that means treating customers with respect, apparently.

so he gestures wildly, around the room, ]

The entire area's filled!

[ then he nudges his stack of papers over the edge of table. ]

You can contain yourself. Free a space.

A

[bravelyathome]

[Honestly, she's here to visit Lorenz. Of course, she doesn't see him anywhere as she looks around for a place to sit. Maybe he's not working today?]

You should have asked him for his schedule! Stupid, Bernie!

[Rubbing her hands together, she doesn't notice that the pile of books on the chair have become a pile of books on the floor. Before she knows it, her toe has caught on the edge of them and with a squeak, she ends up sprawled on the floor next to the young man with all the hard work.]

Ow...

[tryhard]

[ The squeak and consequent thud jolt Waver out of the notebook he'd been furiously scribbling in, too absorbed to have noticed the girl walking up. Until she's sprawled in the walkway.

Oh, crap.

Waver finally notices he absent-mindedly put something on the floor and feels immediately guilty, jumping up out of his chair to grab the spilled books and make sure they're all right (first) before setting them aside on the table and reaching down to offer a hand and a sheepish smile. ]

Ah... Sorry about that. Are you all right?

[ He waves away any of the staff who try to come over and help. Nothing's been broken, at least nothing of the shop's, and no tea spilled. It's probably fine. ]

[bravelyathome]

Did I hurt the books?

[That's her first concern over herself. While she'll probably have a bruise later, she's ignoring it as she looks at the books around her. Well, until she sees his hand anyway.

Taking it, she gets to her feet and he'll get to see that she's a good bit shorter than he is. Even before she reaches down to start helping to gather the books up. With all the care of someone who has the utmost respect for literature.]

I'm sorry. This was all my fault. I should have looked where I was going.

[tryhard]

No, they're fine.

[ Waver assures her, rearranging his stack on the table and checking the floor again before looking back up. ]

I probably shouldn't have put them on the floor, anyway.

Oh-- Are you all right?

[bravelyathome]

I'm okay. It's not the first time I've fallen.

[And now that she's standing again, she can't help but glance at the books curiously.]

What are they all for?

Endless Teatime for Waver Velvet

[silentsavant]

For once, rainclouds aren't looming overhead... though with spring's shift in weather patterns, not even clear skies can make any bright promises. Still, it's a nice opportunity to set up work station outdoors, and perhaps that's why Waver is out on the terrace today.

Soren's just passing by, but the sight of the Turnskin uncovers hideous memories he keeps buried from view for both the sake of his own sanity and for Waver's dignity. Reluctance to approach sets in. He can still keep walking on by, pretending he never noticed him...

...but he'd done that before, when he was gratefully ashamed for needing his help. When they acted out during that chimeric full moon frenzy. For how long can he keep this under the table before he has to confront it anyway? And since he's pledged to support his business, he really can't move on and leave him. Furthermore, this is the same man who decided to haul his scaly butt up the stairs and out of the snow no matter how inconvenient it was. He deserves his regard.

This exchange can't be projected to go on without that invisible weight crushed between them. But the black dragon steels himself in spite of that and decides to approach and check up on him. He looks busy, but by the look of how many teacups he has shoved aside, maybe he could use a brief distraction. It seems as though Soren is acquainted with nobody but complete workaholics... How ironic, when that was once his problem.

He doesn't interrupt him with his voice. He waits until Waver has noticed him nearby before saying anything, and he doesn't invite himself to take a seat, either. A glance at his folder and paper spread gives him a hint.

"...Inkchanted work?"

[tryhard]

Waver recognizes his scent. Something about it makes the back of his neck prickle and his fur stand on end. The flash of instinctive, sudden panic makes Waver's head snap up, eyes big, lip curling.

He stops himself before he can growl, but his eyes linger on Soren's, momentarily unfocused and far away as he tries to bury the half-remembered vision before it can fully surface. After a moment, Waver shakes his head. Shakes it off.

It wasn't Soren's fault.

"...yeah," he replies, pushing the notebook aside and shoving over his teacups to make room across the table.

"Don't hover. Sit."

[silentsavant]

The turnskin's flash of misplaced panic splits the air between them like lightning. Sure, this was never going to be the smoothest interaction, but to snarl at him like an enemy... Why is he looking at him like he'd...

He's seen this look before.

It's Soren's turn to be stricken by a bout of soul-shaking alarm. He finds the answer interred in the memory of his vision swirling into a furious black abyss. What happened between then and when he woke next?

Real emotion springs forth emphatic in his gaze. He's horrified by what was revealed to him by just one unspoken exchange. His mouth parts like he wants to say something, but he can't bring himself to put words to it, let alone breach a topic they'd both be better off leaving behind. The dragon considers the benefits of excusing himself, but if he does that, he will only be haunted by phantoms of what might have happened. His head falls in shame and he slumps into the seat Waver insists he take, wings folded tightly to himself.

[tryhard]

His breathing and heartbeat are still a bit too fast, the tension in his shoulders and ears visible, even if his tail is tucked behind him and obscured by the chair back. If Soren can't scent it, the anxiety is obvious-- but he's just as clearly ignoring it and trying to rein the instinctive feelings of unease back, hoping Soren won't comment.

What are they supposed to do? How are they supposed to address this, knowing what awful things they'd both likely faced down there? There's no point.

Waver looks away, searching with a faint desperation for a barista or someone to bus the empty teacups, whichever he spots first.

It happens to be the former, and he calls the young Harpy woman over with a motion.

"I'll have a- another tea, please. Herbal. Whatever you recommend without caffeine."

He's beginning to think maybe he's had enough. The shakiness might be all the black tea, not just the trauma. Right?

[silentsavant]

They're both ignoring the colossal weight stifling the air between them, big enough that even the barista senses the crush of it. Her smile wanes into concern as she props each cup carefully onto her tray.

"Is something the matter?"

"It's between us," cuts Soren. She blinks at his blunt dismissal of her attempt to smooth things over, but silently acknowledges that maybe she shouldn't pry after all. "I will have some tea as well. Whatever he is having is fine."

"Oh. Shall I make it a bigger pot, then?"

"Sure." He returns the majority of his attention to Waver only to settle his gaze to the tabletop. It wouldn't do if it were enough to unsettle him further. Task given to her, she heads back inside. "This one will be on me," he reassures Waver.

It's unlike him to simply offer to foot someone else's bill unless he hopes to get something out of it. And yet, the compulsion sets in. For what reason? A gesture of apology? If it's that, a spot of tea is hardly enough to make up for whatever he'd done to force that face out of Waver, stir him up inside enough to palpably sense. Or maybe it's to help compensate for how unpleasant his company is.