All Work and No Play [Attn: Natlya/Bella]

[Roan]

“Mead it is!” Paks replied and went to the bar. She returned to the table Natlya claimed minutes later with two mugs and two bottles of mead. She smirked, not smiled, but smirked from ear to ear as she sat down, uncorked the first bottle and split it between the two mugs. “I was out drinking just last night, actually. Oh, and the night before that.”

The Drin gave a light laugh and shrugged, “I’m out most nights, though I suppose the Master of Training may not appreciate it. Nothing says I can’t, and to be honest? It’s been an outlet for me. . .a much needed outlet.” She didn’t go into why, though she suspected she didn’t have to.

She held up her mug, “The rules for the night are simple. You can ask me anything you want. We’re going to stick to topics that are distinctly not Tower related, or recent past related. The goal? Whatever it takes for us both to have fun tonight. A girl’s gotta have fun, after all, right?”

[Bella]

Pouring her mead into her mug, she looked into it for a long moment as she considered what Paks said.

Nothing about the Tower, or the recent past... Well, then, what else was there? That was the narrow scope that Nat's life had defined itself into, and she had thrown herself into it for the past couple of years, then even more so since Morgan had died. Would Paks want to hear about her life as a thief? That would make her think a great deal about Morgan...

How about her life in the orphanage? Well, being that was such a cheerful topic.

"I'll do my best," she finally said, taking a long pull at her drink and downing almost half of it. "I don't really know what to ask, though. I seem to have lost my small talk skills, so why don't...you tell me something? What kind of stuff do you like to talk about when you're out carousing and all that?" When she'd been a thief, she'd been so smooth. Where had that gone?

[Roan]

Paks Liard

Paks took a sip of her mead, but when she put her mug down, she realized Natlya was still drinking. Her brows rose in a look that suggested she was both surprised and impressed. Her smirk was quick to return as she raised her mug and followed suit. Might as well go toe to toe with her drinking companion tonight, right?

The playful smirk seemed to beam on its own as Paks tilted her head, “I tend to talk about just about anything that comes to mind if I think it’ll get a lass. . .or the odd lad. . .to laugh.” She wiggled her brows, “You will find that I’m often the butt of my own jokes, but then if a person can’t laugh at themselves, then what can they laugh at?

“Life is a serious matter, do not get me wrong, but there is enough tragedy and heartache going around that I do my very best to focus on things that make me smile or make me laugh. Often, it’s my own mis-adventures that do that, and if I can tell a story about one of my misadventures to see a smile or laugh brighten another, then I consider it my gift,” Paks explained. “I’m not certain everyone would agree, but I’m ok with this,” she held her mug up in mock salute and downed what was left in it before refilling it from her bottle of mead.

The Drin laughed softly, “In fact, I’m pretty certain the Master of Training wouldn’t agree, but then I was thrust upon him by a jealous magistrate and weird bureaucracy.” She furrowed her brows, “Hmm. . .seems I broke our rule for the night. New rule! Each time we break the rule about speaking about the Tower, we drink!” And so Paks did, downing half of her cup of mead before flashing her mischevious smirk towards Natlya.

[Bella]

It almost, oddly, felt a little like looking in a mirror...if mirrors looked back at what had been instead of what was.

Natlya recalled a time when near every conversation she had with a person had the flow and boisterous that Paks' did, unless it behooved her to be somber. (It rarely behooves a person to be sober, especially when you're trying to run a game.) The comment about the Master of Training and how her new drinking companion had come, though. That was interesting.

She hated the thought of losing at anything, however, she didn't mind the thought of getting drunk. She held up her mug and took a long, pointed drink. "Preemptive," she said. "What brought you to the Tower?"

[Roan]

Paks Liard

Paks practically beamed as the Ji’Val downed a good portion of her mug of mead, then followed suit, “That was preemptive as well, then. The last time I told this tale, it almost came out as a song. . .if I had time to write it, it would be ‘Ode to the Magistrate’s Lovely Wife!’ Perhaps the title gives you an inkling of an idea of where the story goes, and for the record, I regret nothing.” With this last statement, the Drin wiggled her brows and took another sip.

“Our adventure begins, my friend, in a little town in Mayene where a Magistrate and his wife came to stay while a group of Bards entertained at the very same inn. Now the Magistrate was a bit older than his fair maiden, and she was a beauty, to be sure, but he seemed to take for granted that she’d be waiting for him each and every evening,” Paks began the tale, adding what flourishes she could while sitting down.

“The Band of Bards took it upon themselves to make sure the patrons at the Inn were entertained, and I took it upon myself to make sure the lovely wife of our villainous magistrate would not be bored while her husband was too busy to attend her needs. I may have miscalculated one day, as he returned early to catch us naked as newborn babes in bed together, and I had no choice but to launch myself from their window and run for the hills.

“All the while, my band of Bards witnessed this, and laughed at my misfortune, but were kind enough to bring me clothes, and news of a price on my head,” the Drin’ continued, but only after finishing her mug and topped it up with more mead. “Now, some would perhaps walk away from such a beauty thinking the risk outweighed the reward, but those very people have not seen the Magistrate’s wife!” Paks went wide-eyed before fanning herself and rolling her eyes , “There are far few fairer than she, I guarantee!

“Seeing the gauntlet laid before me, I returned, disguised as an old woman, and waited again for the Magistrate to leave, and then knocked on our fair maiden’s door. When she opened it, she was greeted with the site of a hag, and that very hag gave her the most passionate kiss she’d ever received. Realizing it was her wanted lover, she ushered me in, and before long, the disguise was gone, along with all of our clothes, and bliss was not far behind.

“Perhaps I should count my blessings as the Magistrate had people watching, but it took them a while to realize the little old woman who visited their ward hadn’t left in some time. We were allowed our moment (or five) of bliss, but I overstayed my welcome and was caught red-handed, so to speak,” Paks continued, pausing only to take another sip. “I was brought up on charges of petty theft, assault and other crimes, of which I will not confess my innocence or guilt.

“The Magistrate was my judge and jury, and he judged me guilty. To guarantee I might not attempt to satisfy his lovely wife once more, he sent me on my way in a cage to the Grey Tower, where I was ceremoniously dumped at the feet of one Master Darrow,” Paks finished with a flourished bow, albeit seated at the table. When she looked up, she wore her mischevious smirk.

[Bella]

Throughout her years, moving from city to city and situation to situation, Natlya had met many sorts of people, including girls who liked girls and boys who liked boys. She was the "live and let live" type so long as no one was bothering her, but as she listened the Paks' story, she couldn't help but envision her fellow trainee and this beautiful woman, and it caused her a surprise fidgety feeling.

She ignored the feeling and didn't bother trying to understand it, just forced herself to concentrate. The bravado and gaiety was layered on thick, Nat thought, but she of course didn't make any sort of comment about that. The end of the story had a certain air of familiarity, but she kept that to herself to.

"So...does that mean--" She paused, finished her mug and refilled. "--you can never leave the Tower again without the price on your head, or just not until you're Gaidin?"

[Roan]

Paks Liard

Paks tipped her mug back as she consumed more mead, “I’m given to understand that once I reach full rank, I will be free as I want to be. . .that is if I make it to full rank.” The Drin wasn’t one to frown much, and it looked out of place when she did, “I’ve no talent to channel, thus I wear Drin grey, but I am not sure I have much of a stomach to fight.” She looked into her mug as her thumb ran along its rim, “I come from a family of artisans, and joined a band of merry bards before being tossed into the clutches of the Master of Training.

“I’m fine practicing movements on my own, or on practice dummies, but the reality of what I’m being groomed for? I am not sure I have the stomach for it,” she admitted as she looked up to her drinking companion. Memories of bone crunching under fist came to the surface, and she took another long pull from her mug in an effort to put the less than pleasant thoughts at bay.

Slamming her empty mug down, the smirk was back, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Hmm. . .another rule...if talk gets too somber the speaker must drink!” She poured the rest of her bottle into her mug, and turned her head to look into it as the last drips of the honey liquid fell into her mug, “And. . .I may need to get another round.” She looked to the bar keep and held up two fingers, indicating another two bottles. Once he acknowledged her, she looked back to Natlya and beamed as she took another big swig.

[Bella]

Through the slight string of ramble intermingled with booze, Nat just listened and watched. There was more going on here than she would have suspected at the first, but then, when wasn't there? There really was not a person in existence who was only what they appeared to be on the surface, or if there were, they were very rare and not often come upon. Though it seemed the natural inclination of people to assume that others were only what was on the surface. That assumption was what had made her career as a con-woman.

Even if she no longer played the game, she could not return to the blissful ignorance that she once possessed (if she ever really did) or that many others clung to. There was always more than one saw, and it was often less-than-pleasant. If it was pleasant, then it would be worn on the surface, now wouldn't it?

"I think you're going to get drunk pretty fast," Nat commented with a half-smile as two more bottles of liquor were set down before them, and she contemplated the conversation thus far. "You could always bond an Ajah unlikely to need such protection. Like a Brown, or a White..." The idea of bonding and Ajahs was rigorously thumped into the mind of every trainee so it was something that she couldn't help but think about, even if she didn't want to think about it.

[Roan]

Paks Liard

Wiggling her brows as her smirk persisted, Paks replied, “Wasn’t the entire point of the night to get drunk and pretend we didn’t have a care in the world other than an entertaining evening in whatever form that might be?” As she finished this, she winked to her drinking companion and took another sip of mead. “Besides. . .I’ve gotten rather good at working through hangovers,” she proclaimed.

The Yards did drill the idea of bonding into their recruits, but Paks found a way to tune it out. For her, the thought on bonding someone was as far from her mind as the idea of a serious relationship. The concept of commitment was, while not wholly foreign, not a comfortable one for the woman to grasp. Anytime one of her ‘playmates’ started talking in terms of commitment, she tended to quickly move on. Bonding seemed as big of a commitment a person could make beyond marriage, though perhaps it went beyond that given the link shared between those who bonded.

“Maybe. . .but honestly? I haven’t given the idea of bonding someone much thought,” she snorted. “Light’s sake. . .I’m still in Drin grey, and I doubt the Master of Training will call me forward to be tested for the rank of Ji’Val.

“I’m not entirely sure the man was pleased with my arrival in the Yards, but given how I arrived, I can’t honestly blame him,” she said before taking another drink. Giving a non-chalant shrug, Paks replied, “It will be what it will be. I can’t be anyone but me. I may not be the best Drin’ in the Yards, and I may never be the best Gaidin, but I’ll do this on my terms as much as I can.” Part of her wondered what Master Darrow might say to that. . .and part of her was surprised he hadn’t admonished her for what others surely saw as a lack of focus.
Taking another sip, she cast a sidelong look at her drinking companion, “That is more than enough somber talk, though.” She nodded to a woman who was currently flirting with one of the male patrons sat at the bar, “See the woman with the dark red dress? Watch her. She’s been warming this man up since I got back with our new bottles.”

Not a second later, the woman went in for an embrace that skirted the line of impropriety. If one knew what to look for, they’d see her hand lift a coin bag off the man’s belt. “About now, she’s going to tell him she needs the privy.” Sure enough, the woman got up a moment later, and Paks could almost read her lips. She looked back to Natlya, “Think she’ll be bold enough to come back and continue flirting with him, or do you think she’ll be smart enough to move on?”

[Bella]

Of course Natlya knew what to look for, and she wondered how often some random patrons in a bar might have noticed her doing something similar. Though, in truth, she rarely resorted to straight pickpocketing. She had preferred the longer games, since they turned into the bigger and less random payouts. You set the con already knowing just what you'd get, rather than seeing what a coinpurse just happened to have.

The Ji'val looked the man over as he lingered, still unaware of what he now lacked and instead looking like he was looking forward to the return of the very forward woman who'd taken an interest in him.

"It's not about boldness," Nat declared, turning back to her mug with a faint frown of consideration, a faint knitting of her brow. "Not if she does this regular-like. It's about observation and wisdom. Is there any reward in going back, once you have what you want?" The past just started rolling off her tongue. "He doesn't look very well off, and her take likely won't be much.

"Unless she just likes messing with people, I doubt she'll be back. There's nothing more to gain for a common thief."