Winter festival at the Bodice

It was winter festival time in Enferia's capital, and the Grey Witch was celebrating in a subdued fashion... for now. The majority of the Ripped Bodice was bustling; business was good and loud with drunken celebrants and people generally having a good time. A group of arena regulars were playing games of chance in one corner, cheering or booing as dice bounced off the wall. Some cute jester girl was doing tricks on top of the packed bar, drawing laughs and clapping. People in every manner of attire could be seen milling or dancing somewhere, and barely a space was empty.

Christie let out a quiet exhalation through pursed lips, sitting in a dark and luxurious plush booth in some exclusive section of the Bodice. She'd put out quite a bit of gold to get the partially secluded area seemingly all to herself. Every now and then a barmaid would bring drinks or some mysterious thing on a tray into the little area Christie had turned into her smoky little parlor. There was no bouncer or security scaring people off, but it generally most people just seemed to avoid seeing what was in there.

Christie reclined in a velvety, comfortable looking white cloak wrapped over over her ripped white gown, and her calf-laced sandals were up on the table. The grey witch idly puffed on something sweet-smelling in an ornate-looking pipe made out of some dark wood and fixed her gold-grey eyes out her vantage of the Bodice with a panther-like desire. If she saw someone worth celebrating with, now wouldn't that be nice?

((anyone, feel free to join in. Christie's not turning anyone away with the curiosity to pop in. ))

Tracer loved the solstice. It was the dead of winter, which back home meant no work in the fields. Everyone that wasn’t out hauling grain to the cities was pent up in their homes being driven insane by boredom- and what better way was there to relieve boredom than by getting drunk and partying?

Anyone who looked at Tracer would realize three things. First: she (obviously) wasn’t entirely human. If they could get past that hurdle, they’d then move on to how out-of-place she was fashion-wise. Overalls and checkered flannel shirts weren’t exactly the “in” thing to wear, but it was what she was the most comfortable with. Well, that and her overalls were the only things she had that were specially tailored with a buttoned back-flap for her tail to fit through. Tracer’s brown, black-and-white spotted tail was constantly wagging and hitting the wooden sides of her chair, occasionally hitting a passing patron in the leg.

The third thing was that she was absolutely smashed.

“No, I donno who let the dogs out. I donno why- *hic* - people keep askin’ me that,” Tracer slurred to the man across from her. “Do they need me to go get ‘em? I can *hic* run ‘em down faster than a… a… really fast thing. Like a rabbit. Yeeeeah.”

The man across from her laughed a little louder than he should have. The woman next to him sighed. “You shouldn’t make fun of her like that.”

“I’m not making fun of her,” he said indignantly. “I just asked a question. She’s the one who just came up and took Tam’s seat. ”

“Oh… I’m sorry.” The dog-ears on top of tracer’s head folded flat. “I didn’t -*hic*know this seat was ta… taken. I just wanted to see if that clown… jester… girl over there was the one with the bounty on her… She smells like she’s gonna *hic*  pay my… bar tab.”

The man and woman exchanged glances. “Sort of,” said the woman. “Chloe Smiles, right? Yeah, that’s her. But I heard she was already, uh… made an example of down in the river district a week ago. The bounty’s claimed.”

Tracer bowed her head. With a defeated sigh, she downed her entire mug of ale.

“Sorry,” said the woman.

“It’s okay,” Tracer said. “Jus’ bad luck. I think another… drink will solve that.”

With that, she stumbled to her feet. The man raised his arm in protest, but his companion pulled it back. “Nu-uh. I saw the way you were looking at her.”

“What?! You say that about every girl here!”

“Well, it’s true!”

The two continued arguing. Tracer, meanwhile, carried her empty mug back to the bar- or at least, what she thought was the bar. In reality, she had plopped herself right down in front of a certain Grey Witch.

“One ale. Again.” Tracer pushed her mug out to the “bartender” and placed her head in her hands.

________________________________________________________________
((This post takes place after Manila has claimed Chloe’s bounty. splotch is free to use her in this scene if he wants to; I included her here just in case.))

Christie waited a loooong moment before acknowledging the 'creature' before her. The cherry of her pipe flared as she puffed on the sticky-sweet stuff, lighting up her eyes under the cowl of her cloak somewhat dangerously. The moment held, though, and the half-kobold didn't drop the shtick or break character. Christie smirked ever so slightly and with an effortless bit of magic sent a mug of cold ale came floating over to land in front of Tracer.

Christie emulated a perfect bartender's voice. "Winter time woes..?" she said, sending an unnatural spiral of blue grey smoke into the air above her. "Unload your burdens, reveler," she purred, still motionless beneath her velvety white cloak.

Tracer perked up and pulled the mug towards herself, spilling a bit of precious ale in the process. She didn’t care, though. Neither did she care about what the “bartender” asked her. More ale meant less to think about, anyway.

She put the mug to her lips and the room exploded.

Most people are aware of the intimate relationship between a person’s sense of smell and taste. Block one and the other suffers with it. Naturally, the opposite is true as well. Tracer’s sense of smell was literally incomprehensible to an ordinary human- and her sense of taste followed. So when Christie conjured a mug of ale pilfered from only the most choice of cellars of the world’s most distinguishing alemonger, to say that Tracer noticed would be a gross understatement.

Her eyes shot open in shock. Clove, cinnamon, molasses, vanilla, nutmeg, and the sweet caress of maple syrup washed over her tongue. There were so many flavors, each one delicately blending into the next. She’d never tasted anything like it.

“Oh. My. God.” Every inch of her from ears to tail went stiff. “I… I…”

She looked up from her mug and stared at Christie with wide eyes. “I love you.”

it was then that a heavy-set woman in a barmaid's outfit poked her head in. Fans of the arena might have recognized her, She hadn't heard the last part of conversation, but she knew that the occupant of the VIP section had been solitary up to this point..."Is everything alright? Is this....woman bothering you?"

Niniane's voice sounded strained. It had been a king night already. She had been as busy as any other year's solstice protecting the tavern girls, but this year, Niniane had found it doubly hard. The reason was that one of the servers in her infinite wisdom had hired a half-dressed orc. Worse yet, Niniane was pretty sure this was the orc she had bounced out of the Bodice a week or two ago. Tonight, she had needed to protect both the orc and the customers that offended her in order to keep the peace. She was exhausted, and quietly hoped the situation she was seeing in front of her was no situation at all.

"Well, nice to meet you too..."

Christie narrowed her eyes behind the smoke and beneath her hood as her smile crept wider. The slits seemed to glow more intensely, and Tracer felt as if a thousand tiny eyes were inspecting the very fabric of her being.

"Why don't you pull up a cozier spot, little one?" she said casually, gesturing to the seat next to her. "I take it you like the ale..? I never know where it comes from," she said, her eyes darting to the side -- a tell, perhaps, that she meant to sound like she was lying.

"It IS so loud out in the Bodice tonight. All the merriment and celebrating. Not sure it's for me."

Christie leaned forward a bit as Niniane poked her head in, smiling softly.

"It's quite fine. I never asked that no one be let in..." she looked around conspiratorially in the dimly lit parlor and the smoky haze. "Just don't tell anyone that, yes..?" she grinned.

"Join us, if you like," she offered with a sweep of her hand. "You can tell your employers I made you do it, if you don't feel comfortable," the witch giggled, her eyes dancing.

"I'd hate to interrupt," Niniane said, motioning to Tracer with a nod of her head, "and this place may very well fall apart without me watching out for those who can't...there's this one particular girl who can't seem to catch a break, or afford decent clothes, for that matter, but, aw, what the hell...just for a minute, I'm sure they'll yell if they need me."

Christie leaned forward a bit more to reach for her wine glass, bringing it to her lips to sip at the deep red liquid.

"Interrupt? Nothing going on to interrupt... yet," she mused, taking another sip and sitting back.

”Well, nice to meet you too…”

Tracer blinked as Christie’s gaze intensified. Unbidden memories rose to the front of her mind like a bad meal coming up. Flashes of herself face-down in the mud, the all-encompassing pain of being kicked by a mule keeping her there. A young girl’s reflection in the mirror, horrified and humiliated to see that she’d begun growing hair on her cheeks. Flickers of an endless chase that spanned days and nights. The fleeting feeling of triumph, snatched away by the harsh reality of what the law could and couldn’t do.  
A second later it all faded, replaced by the warm buzz of the best beer she’d had in her life.

“Yeah. Yeah… I do like it,” she grinned, already having forgotten all about the moment of discomfort. “Wait… you don’t smell like a barte-“

She was interrupted by both an intensely concerned bouncer and an intense desire to not be concerned. Beer was beer. And really good beer was really good, regardless of where it came from. Besides, she could taste poison. Poison totally ruins beer.

Tracer barely caught the bouncer’s conversation, but she did pick out “decent clothes.”

"Interrupt? Nothing going on to interrupt... yet."

Tracer’s brain finally engaged just enough to slip in a bit of conversation.

“Heeeey. I’m decent at clothes. I’m not like missus magic beer lady. She’s the one wearing the dress with a rip in the boobies.” She glanced at Christie’s dress. “It does look kinda nice though. I can’t wear anything like that. Too much…” her voice trailed off. “I, uh. I mean I don’t have such nice boobies.”

Good save, Tracer, she told herself.

"Don't worry, honey," Niniane said to Tracer, "you and I don't have a problem." She reached out and grabbed an ale from a passing server's tray. The server looked indignant for a moment, then smiled when she saw who took it. Niniane drank a long gulp, and put the ale on the table, nodding and smiling to avoid commenting on the 'boobies' discussion.

Christie shifted subtly in her seat, allowing more of that velvety cloak to slide aside and reveal more of her scandalous dress beneath. Mostly, her fair cleavage showed from above the low cut of it. She merely giggled and continued speaking as she reached forth for her neglected drink.

"It's winter festival time... I think time to get... Lively."

The smoky little parlor had a vaguely intoxicating effect, the two would notice over time. Tracer's sensitive little nose was picking up all kinda of scents from whatever it was the witch was smoking, a lot strange spices and plants she'd never smelled before...

((Hey all, holidays kind of took over a big chunk of my free time, but with those winding down, am I too late to get in on this?))

((Not at all...))

Velatha's eyes scanned the crowded tavern. It felt like an eternity since she'd been to work, at least so far as the public was aware. Regardless, the holidays were the perfect time to make some extra coin picking pockets. People were drunk, had spending money on them for gifts, and the crowds were so large it was child's play to disappear.

Slipping through the tavern, Velatha's wrists were starting to get sore from the number of coinpurses she'd "liberated" from their owners. With her own purse fat from the wealth of others, Velatha figured it wouldn't hurt to spread the holiday cheer a little. Purchasing a number of drinks for herself and leaving a generous tip, the infiltrator looked for a good place to enjoy herself.

The alcove people seemed to be avoiding seemed promising. Whoever was in there was clearly not a person to be bothered, though surely some gold would make them friendly enough to offer the elf a seat... right?

As Christie sipped her strong, exotic beverage and quietly chit-chatted with her new company, she sensed another interesting spark, another interesting character milling about the crowd. An attractive one, at that.

Velatha felt the sudden impulse, and her nimble feet were moving. Before she even realized it she'd fully passed the half drawn curtain separating Christie's little parlor from the rest of the bar.

"Mmmh, hello there," came the grey witch's syrupy purr. "Join us for a spell," she intoned, and Velatha felt a strange pang of excitement from within her chest. An odd lot had gathered here, but it was only just starting to get cozy.

"Well, fuck me." Velatha whistled. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you again, Grey Witch. Not since that thing with the bandits awhile back."

Even if there wasn't an odd compulsion to do as Christie suggested, Velatha would have been all too happy to oblige, settling down as near to the witch as she could get without being too blatantly forward. The idea for tonight's work had been to be inconspicuous, so the infiltrator had foregone her normal attire for a simple set of civilian clothing. The tunic and pants were nice enough, but nothing special; all the better to be just another face in the crowd.

"So, ah, Miss Christie..." Velatha began. "Any memories come back since I saw you last? Any new juicy details on Her Majesty?" she asked, her tone suggesting just how hopeful she was, even if she knew she was unlikely to get anything resembling a direct answer.

Christie grinned and retained her panther-like countenance; her eyes softened a bit, invitingly, when Velatha chose her seat. She draped an arm around her instantly, warm and relaxed as she did so, the hand in front of the rogue offering her that ornate looking wooden pipe, still burning with the intoxicating, sweet-smelling mixture.

"You're looking rather... plain," she said teasingly with mock disappointment. "This will liven you up," she said as if that explained the pipe in front of her. If Velatha regarded her skeptically Christie's little grin as she looked her up and down seemed to say "you could never look plain" with just a glance.

"It's good to see you though," she said softly, as if to reinforce this. "I've been well; I'd say in not the same as when we last met, no. If you get drunk enough with me I'll share my juiciest story about Syndra with you," she continued, raising her eyebrows twice in quick succession to emphasize.

"This is Tracer and Niniane. Tracer and Niniane, Velatha," she said, gesturing with her glass-holding hand. "I feel as if we were about to exchange stories or perhaps introductions. Then, I was going to suggest, maybe... Games of chance."

Her smirk was a bit wicked.

"I'll start, if you like, and I'll keep it brief. I don't like to boast," she grinned. "Some call me the Grey Witch, or just Grey Witch, or Christie. Call me what you like. Most of the legends you've heard are true. I'm not ancient -- I'm ageless," she continued with a vain toss of her silky blond mane of curls. "My power is immense; I've forgotten more spells and rites than most will ever know. A scholar once told me I'm fey in origin, but in truth I don't like to think about the past..."

She trailed off wistfully and looked up to see her friends, old and new, looking at her wide eyed. There was a profound sadness on the Grey Witch's face for the briefest of moments.

"But don't let any of that intimidate you," she said with a suddenly disarming but genuine smile. "As you've seen I mostly use my power like anyone with my desires would -- for fun, and justice, and a bit of nudity, when called for," she laughed. "Can we drink to that?" she said, raising her wineglass.

One more new arrival came to the table, this time an elf. Tracer didn’t even have to look to tell that. Elves just didn’t smell right. Humans carried scents around with them like baggage, picking up new ones every time they stepped outside. Elves, however, didn’t pick up scents naturally; it was like they were detached from the world around them. Ageless, timeless, odorless. Well, except for whatever perfumes or plants they felt like spraying themselves with. It was just another weird thing about those rare, odd people that Tracer didn’t feel comfortable with. If Tracer ever had to track down an elf like this one, she’d have to get creative.

Of course, elves would never stoop to thievery or other petty crimes. So Tracer felt pretty sure she’d never have to.

"This is Tracer and Niniane. Tracer and Niniane, Velatha."

Tracer hadn’t the faintest idea of whom she was looking at. If they didn’t have a bounty on their heads, she didn’t know them. Simple as that.

“Hi! I’m… hey, that’s my line,” Tracer said, glancing at Christie. She wasn’t sober enough to remember if she’d told Christie her name, and definitely too drunk to care. Plus, that smoke she was smoking was messing with her nose. Or head. Probably both. She took another swig of delicious, delicious ale to wash away the pesky irritation of common sense.

Christie continued talking, and Tracer paid as much attention as she could.

“I’ll start, if you like, and blah, blah, Christie. I’m a Grey Witch but don’t have my broomstick with me. Most of the legends you haven’t heard are maybe true. Blah, blah, blah. I’m not ancient, but I’m actually ancient. My power is totally awesome and I love to talk about it. Blah, blah, a guy once called me a cute little faerie, and I ran with it.”

Tracer stared at her blankly. Christie seemed to appreciate this.

“Blah, blah, justice, nudity. BEER!”

“Yeah! Beer!” Tracer raised her mug in the direction of Chrisie’s wine glass. Her small stature meant she could only reach a foot or so across the table, but the effort was there. She smiled as a few others joined in, and she downed another pull of amazing ale.

Tracer looked around the table. Everyone was staring at her. Was she supposed to be talking? Oh. Right. Introductions. Manners!

“Uh. Hi… I’m beer. I mean Tracer!” she said, ears twitching with her slip-up. “I’m the best bounty tracer… hunterer… collector there ever was. Or will be. I think. There could be better ones.” She scratched the back of her neck. “But I’m really good at stuff!”

Niniane raised an eyebrow. Velatha frowned slightly. Christie seemed slightly more amused than normal.

Tracer could feel a whine building in the back of her throat. Christie had apparently been really cool when doing her introduction. She had to match up… but how?

“Um… I can smell fear?”

“Cute,” said someone whose name Tracer couldn’t remember. She was sure it would come to her. “Any cool party tricks? I mean, besides telling who’s bluffing in strip poker?”

“Um. I haven’t played strip poker…” Tracer said, feeling her tail involuntarily glue itself to the bottom of her seat. “But I can do stuff. Stuff like… you know…” she put a hand to her forehead, struggling to describe it. “If you… put your fingers on a cup, you know? I can smell which fingers you put on it. And if you, like, wore gloves earlier today, I can… be like… a past-seer-wizard. Thing. And if the gloves were, like, cotton, I could tell that too.”

The table looked confused. “One time I found a girl that stole a diamond-covered bra ‘cause I could smell the… soft stuff… thing… silk! I could smell the silk bra. You know, through her shirt.” Tracer giggled. “I had to rip her shirt off to prove she stole it. It was funny. For me, at least.”

Christie nodded in quiet approval, hoping she hadn't scared the others off with her introduction, and muttered the "Cute" when Tracer mentioned she could smell fear. She quirked a brow and smiled when she saw the adorable little creature try to describe her talents (and noting that she'd never played strip poker), nodded some more in encouragement. "Go on..."

"Object reading is a pretty useful thing. Maybe one day you can tell me why I'm stuck with this cursed dress," she said, plucking at one of the many loose threads for emphasis.

The Grey Witch more muttered the comment about her dress offhand than made it seem like she was asking. Of course, she had a feeling intention was a tricky thing with the half kobold. Christie amusedly looked between her and the others, waiting for either more from the bounty hunter in the way of stories and introduction, or for one of the others to chime in.

As she waited, from within her cloak Christie produced a set of worn playing cards and began to shuffle them in her lap. The gesture was subtle enough to go largely unnoticed for the moment -- she didn't want it to seem like she was making a suggestion and interrupting anyone...

"I was planning on getting drunk anyway." Velatha said as she picked up her drink. "But if getting drunk means you share something good, then I'll drink faster. This better not be a trick though, where you can't actually remember anything good..."

Regardless, the infiltrator began to work on her drink in earnest. Humans typically weren't Velatha's favorite people, but she couldn't deny a certain admiration for the Grey Witch. Perhaps it was her open defiance of almost all authority, or her power, or something more difficult to explain. Whatever it was, it made the blonde one of the few exceptions to Velatha's general disdain.

The other one talking, now that was an odd sight. Whatever she was, she was energetic, and more than a little scatterbrained. All the talk about scents and tracking was admittedly interesting, but the elf couldn't help but feel wary of the stranger.

"Games of chance..." Velatha thought to herself as she finished one drink and quickly started on another. "I wonder if the Witch has a magic trick up her sleeve to tilt the odds in her favor. Might have to do some of my own sleight of hand if I want to keep things interesting with her..."

Christie chuckled at Velatha's reasonable wariness. "If this night sees you drunk and having a good time with us," she paused to sip her own wine for emphasis, "I'll literally paint you a bloody picture of Syndra in a very compromising position." She put the wine glass over her chest as if swearing by this.

"Now, Velatha, I may know a bit about your... skillset," she giggled, the implications seeming dirtier than they actually were. "But these two could do with at least a word or two of introduction. As little or as much as you'd like to say."

Christie paused, sliding the worn deck of playing cards onto the table.

"Alternately, if you're feeling quiet, you may begin the inspection and shuffling of this deck; get it primed for games of chance. I don't know about strip poker, but I may have something in mind..." she mused. She glanced at Niniane and gulped her wine. "Or perhaps the barmaid wants to say a bit about herself first..?"

Velatha took a moment to think, as if questioning how much she believed the Witch. Eventually, however, her perversion won out. Besides, even if Christie was just leading her on, getting drunk with her could only lead to good things.

"I'll do you one better." Velatha said, taking the deck of cards from Christie's hands. "I'll talk and shuffle at the same time. Not terribly hard."

With that, Velatha's hands began to nimbly manipulate the deck of cards, shuffling and cutting the deck with speed and ease. "So, the things I do... they're not something everyone likes. I believe in giving power back to the people." Velatha began, taking care how she worded her work. "People who abuse their power, well I get paid to put them in their place. Remind them that they're just as normal as the rest of us. Nothing helps a noble realize how special they aren't like leaving them naked in the streets, let me tell you."

Velatha's eyes scanned the others. It was important to know how they reacted to knowing what she did. A bad reaction could mean she should watch her back, after all.

Tracer scrunched her face up in clouded concentration. That sounded a lot like what she did. Kind of "You mean you're a bounty hunter too? Cool!"