Misfits in the Mead Hall

[rassafraggin]

--[ East Vine and Weavers Street ]--------------------------[ Amber City ]----

A fresh crop of snow swirls in the street, leaving drifts against buildings and park structures sculpted in breaking waves and scrollwork that could almost be suspected as deliberately fancy. The red-coated captain is a crisply moving target from the north, a bulky outline created by the silver-grey muffler wound about his shoulders like a mantle and piled high around the ears and nose. He wears a pair of thick gloves and walks without extra swagger, to keep the limbs closer to the body and conserve heat.

Appearing from the curtained doorway of the Mead Hall steps Luminista, the sweeping girl from some nights ago now carries a heavy bucket of soapy water. Each breath shows from her lips in a hazy cloud, hardly dressed for the weather, she is donned by a simple peasants dress as she steps out to douse the snow by the guttering as she tips the water away. Emptied the bucket is set on the ground so her hands are freed to pull off the wimple from her head letting wild black curls free across her shoulders and down her back. Staring across to the park she smiles to herself as hands rub together trying to gather some warmth between them.

The splashing sounds grab his attention more than any movement; it's not quite cold enough to keep other locals from partaking in the well-situated neighbourhood attractions. Tiny bells tinkle throughout as folk enter and emerge from the residential businesses on either side of the Mead Hall. While the water pokes holes in the snowy layer and drips past iron gridwork, Merrisol looks up again to Luminista, gaze following hers to the appeal of the open park grounds. Soon enough, however, he's looking at the individual again, and her ill-defended head and hands. Nothing to say, however, and he turns aside to pass her on his way to the door of the Hall. He pulls the heavy slab about halfway, then pauses with it agape, looking at the girl like he's waiting on her.

Luminista shivers standing out in the snowfall, the passers by get little notice since there are always people moving to and from the Hall. The rich red of Merrisol's coat does make the girl turn her head to better see his approach. The wimple is tucked into a pocket in her apron as she turns, full lips draw up with a soft smile when she sees the man holding open the door, "Good evening, sir" she greets, bending to take up the bucket by its handles again, "you were here a few days ago, weren't you?"

Merrisol seems momentarily blank at the offer of conversation from her, but recovers before it gets awkward. "Yes Miss, that was me. I had some ship's business to conclude with your employer. Captain Merrisol, at your service." The door stays open, and as it lingers in that position a shout or two from inside the Hall filters out to question his basic intelligence and the legitimacy of his birth.

Luminista smiles still and nods, a blink as her head cants a touch to peer beyond the doors. Short steps take her just past Merrisol's stretch to keep the door open, "are you on business again, sir?" she asks past the door and tucking herself aside to allow Merrisol in now. Inside she takes up a still wet mop no doubt the one she had been using moments before, and only when Merrisold enters the establishment as the tiny, whippet thing creature move off with an over the shoulder glance, "would you like a drink?"

--[ The Mead Hall ]-----------------------------------------[ Amber City ]----

"Not this time, and yes, if you would," says the man, after the door shuts behind him. If someone here really objected to the door being open several more seconds longer than necessary, the complaint has faded to a beer-soaked mumble. Merrisol is fairly towering, the match of any average stalwart frequenting the hall. He follows along behind the slip of a thing, perhaps assuming she's showing him over to the reserved seating section, though surely that doesn't exist.

The Hall is certainly not to capacity, perhaps it is too cold for most to venture out, though a cluster of regulars have settled themselves on the tables. Luminista gestures to a table end that is free with one hand, "have a seat," she says before disappearing out the back a moment. It is not long before the girl reappears, hair in some semblence of order tied by a leather thong into a loose bun, and in one hand holds a mug of mead, the foam spilling down its edges. "Here you are, sir."

Merrisol unwinds his scarf and sits where bidden, though he selects the corner which affords the best view of the hall. The muffler and gloves a heap to the side, the waistcoat stays on. The fully revealed brocade pattern of dark crimson on cardinal red can't avoid notice. Old-timer Kites in the mix of patrons would be nostalgically inspired to rehash their sea feuds with flashy-coated Minoans. The captain looks up from contemplating some empty spot across from him, as Luminista returns. "Thank you, Miss," he says with simple courtesy, letting her set it on the table instead of reaching to take it.

The girl sets her hip to the chair opposite Merrisol, her one indigo eye scans over the patrons whilst the grey moves sightlessly mimicing its coloured twin. "Are you waiting on someone?" she asks, perhaps there is very little work to do tonight, it does seem slow. Certainly she does not scatter off as she did the first time. When her mismatched, marred gaze settled back to Merrisol her warming smile has returned, and indigo traces idly across the intricate coat the man wears, "certainly a fancy dresser, aren't you?" her tone lilting with kind jest.

The Mead Hall is having a quiet night, mostly there are regulars. Perhaps it's the winter cold that is keeping patrons at bay. Luminista, in simple garb and apron might be picked as one of the women that work here on occasion is by one of the more bare tables in the corner where Merrisol sits, fresh mead in front of him.

The stein stays put for now, while Merri looks, over not up, at Luminista, as she lingers. "No, I make for poor company right now," he admits to her first question, but omits reply to the latter, just blinking at whatever cheeky thing it was she'd asked.

Moxon's arrival is a whirl of robes, not unlike a dog dressed in sackcloth shaking off snow. "Whuh. Brisk." Several children rise from the firepit to beg for coins, cards and tricks from 'the Professor.' He lets them down gently. "The Amazing Professor can't do a proper show until the Boy Who Cannot Be Restrained and the Micronesian Micronaut are back from holidays." He leans over the bar to remove a seldom-used wineskin, and pours himself something that looks like liquid cheese and smells like WHOA.

Luminista turns her head when the children scatter off towards the door. The girl shifts some, from foot to foot watching the new comer enter, her hands go about pulling her hair free of the leather thong, curls obscure her face some, "no?" she replies idly to Merrisol, adding "shame," half heartedly, as though she were not really in the conversation. "Can I get you anything else, sir?" her good eye still cast off towards Moxon.

Merrisol can see Moxon from his vantage point without having to twist and rubberneck, so his tracking the man is done all with eyes alone. His brows ratchet down as something about that nose.. ah. Strange antics and familiarity with the availability of yellow goop aside, the Professor is more notable than his non-descriptitude would suggest. "What is that?" he inquires abruptly to Luminista, clarifying with a nod over to Moxon at the bar, "What he's having."

Moxon settles on a bench, back to the wall and eyes on the crowd. He returned the wineskin to its place, so if Merrisol wishes any it's available. Fermented goat's-milk, mixed with various herbs and spices. Like drinking sweaty feet, for when consciousness is bothersome.

Luminista's dark brows have knotted some, perhaps its the smell, though the question has her having to turn her head again. She does this often, suggesting that ashen eye has little use, and blinks, "I have no idea," she says honestly, a wrinkling in her nose, "I have never seen anyone ask after it, I thought it was turned milk. Unsellable." As a habitual motion has fingers tucking dark curls behind her ears. "It looks.. awful."

Merri's own habit presently is meeting the eyes of anyone looking, and he focuses on Luminista's mismatched set before the greyed one gets hidden in curls again. Hmm. "Oh, nevermind then. I've got coin, and can afford what is 'sellable'." Not that Moxon is exactly begging at the bar, though, right? Merrisol shrugs to himself, reaching to the side of him to scoop up his scarf and gloves under his arm. "I'm relocating," he obviouses, ".. my sinuses require clearing anyway. If you would again, Miss?" he nods to the still full mug, like he doesn't still have a hand free to carry it himself.

Moxon has a certain amount of cachet with the vikings, it seems, and sits unmolested as he drinks his dinner. He raises a finger to Luminista. "Miss, bread?"

Luminista blinks at Merrisol's request, head dips to the mug, back to the patron and mutters "broken hands," more into her hair as she takes up the drink and follows wherever it is Merrisol would prefer to perch. Her head turns as the order and she manages a small smile to Moxon, "a moment, sir. I'll grab you some." her nose wrinkling again before relocating the red coated Captian to another place before darting off after the bread order. Reappearing, a squared wooden plate is settled with slice, possible stale bread in front of Moxon, "I've seen you before," she idles.

The bar's seating looks to be more precarious than the simple long benches of the equally long tables, but that's where Merrisol goes. So that's convenient for the serving girl. The muffler is draped across his shoulders and left to hang while the gloves end up on the counter with the mug. Then it's like Luminista draws the words from his own mouth, so he contentedly lets her do the talking for now.

Moxon nods. He chews bread, clarifying: "Hothpithal." Swallow, unbothered by any lingering freshness. The drink would overwhelm any meal, one suspects. "Acid in your Mama's face. Near-broke her arm."

Luminista's nose wrinkles again, a hand dusts down her apron just encase chew bread got blathered on it. She rests her hip on the edge of the table and arms cross at her chest. "Yea," she adds, "that's the one. Why exactly did you throw acid in my mother's face?"

The vapor coming off the wineskin's mouth as Merrisol cracks it open experimentally does the trick, for an immediate snap-back of his head right to the edge of no return. The sack of unsellable, and probably undisposable without a hefty environmental fee, is restowed without pouring, and the captain returns to sitting in on the conversation, not sure if he'd heard correctly or is hallucinating now. Moxon did what now?

Moxon wiggles his mug. "Drink enough of this stuff and mosquitoes will vomit after they sample you. Possibly before. Your Mama, she took me to Banyan and then attacked me. Since I couldn't guarantee I'm poison enough to stop her with my bloods, it was my standard response to any attack. Make 'em sorry they decided to try. Swat-swat."

"You're insane," Luminista shakes her head some at Moxon. The girl leans off the counter and moves around to behind the bar, eyeing off the winesink in quest8on. "You drink that off-stuff to poison your own blood. Insane." hair is tucked back behind one ear before she starts cleaning down the bar, possibly there is nothing better to do, or she needs to look busy. "I am sure she had no real intention of hurting you," a brief pause, "very, badly."

Merri has a face on him like he had sampled a drop or two of Moxon's blood himself, and would like to rid himself of a leaden glaze on his tongue. He picks up his mug finally, look - no broken fingers, and tries to drink it away. "Sure it was acid?" he has to wonder afterwards, like it could've been the milk itself after all that.

Moxon clarifies again: "Lye. Corrosive dust, really, but water isn't how you stop the burning." He has another hunk of bread. "I did reset her arm. Because you were there."

"You're too kind." Luminista sighs tucking the cloth she had been wiping down the tabletop to the pocket of her apron. She gives Merrisol a small smile, and to Moxon she dips her head a little. "Please, call out to the girls if you two need anything more, I have other things to attend to." Then she moves off, disappearing out the back.

Moxon says, "Hnh. Ain't like I killed her."

"Thank y..." Merrisol abandons the response after she hurries out of earshot, eyebrows raised at the mildness of the overall reaction. "That might have merited a downright frown. Moxon, right? Merrisol."

Moxon nods. "Merrisol. Pleasure."

Merrisol nods, not really. "You brought Miss Liyandra to hospital, that was good of you."

Moxon nods. "She was bleeding out in Fishcutter Square. Hate to lose her."

"I'm grateful to you. She's a friend. And you are Maggie's cousin, also?"

Moxon grins. "One of dozens, yes."

Merri makes a lesser version of the fermented-milk-face. "Well I serve her on the Wave Dancer, her ship."

Moxon nods. "Take care of Shao, as well. He deserves better than he's been treated."

Merrisol's brows drop. "How do you mean?"

Moxon shrugs. "He was being heckled in the Crown. I'd have ... well. You can guess how I'd have dealt with it."

A heckled Shao does inspire a measure of wrath, but Merrisol nods over it, letting it pass over. "Are you given to dealing with things in that manner.. often?"

Moxon says, "I've had a bad week. You?"

Merrisol directs a stare on the hall, drawing off his mug. "Mmhmm."

Moxon shrugs. "Their Moms would be in trouble. Housepets. That sort of thing."

Merrisol grimaces at his mug, like a fly had snuck in. "How indirectly vile."

Moxon says, "I am Maggie's cousin. Not gleefully 'evil,' in the common sense, but I do /not/ play fair. No reason to."

Merrisol eyes him underneath a mass of browline. "Why is relation to Maggie an indicator of that..?" he asks, regretting it instantly. "Nevermind. It's your privilege. Your father is which Prince?"

Moxon says, "Caine."

Merrisol ahs. "And you helped Liya." Benedict's Girl Friday-ish.

Moxon says, "... doesn't mean I've picked sides. I helped Liya because Liya was in trouble, not to curry favor with the Prince Marshal or wound my father."

Merrisol nods. "Fair enough. That and being beloved of the children, I can see the Maggie's Cousin part now." He puts his mug down, reaches for his gloves.

Moxon rises. "I was there as Kitezh ceased to be. I do magic for them."

Merri stays seated, adjusting gloves then looping more of his scarf, watching Moxon... the Anti-Krampus? "Good of you," he repeats without emphasizing much.

Moxon nods. "... just don't back me into a corner." He heads for the door.