forum "This was NOT how I thought this day was going to go." (Closed)

Started December 26, 2022 by @emilyevewrites group

tune

Ōn’nyosh laughed,”I’m glad! Few do, until they meet the fucker. Oh, and speaking of, he’s really hard to fucking miss. He’s obsessed with electricity, and all of his body is, literally, fucking blue. The so-called ‘originality’ of his fucking style is horrifying.”

His smile grew, then he snickered.

“Hopefully it won’t be necessary. But, knowing my dumb ass, it’s a possibility. I’ll try to keep myself in check, but I’m notorious for failing in that regard, so just fair warning,”he replied.

Ōn’nyosh then paused, his eyebrow raising in amused incredulity. He then chuckled.

“Okay, for your sake, I’ll skip the massive opening for an obnoxious comment there, and instead say ‘yes’. Almost all Narsenian jesters are skilled with some kind of weapon, and almost all of those usually keep a stash of weapons on them, including me. Why do you ask? Planning a little sparring match, are you?”he answered with a grin.

(Foreshadowinggggg)

Farah rolled her eyes slightly. She didn't plan on getting drunk. Definitely not in a world that she didn't know and definitely not with Ōn'nyosh. Who knew what would happen if she let herself lose control around him.

"I'll keep you in check," she retorted as if it were that simple.

The fairy frowned, missing what the obnoxious comment would be before letting herself smirk slightly at his acceptance. She arched her eyebrows and studied him plainly. "Only if you're up for it," she replied, lifting her chin slightly,

(Lmao!)

---

Ōn’nyosh chuckled,”That’s going to be harder than you think.”

He snickered at her frown, then grinned wider.

“Are you up for it?”he asked.

Ōn’nyosh pulled out his dagger, flipping it in his fingers. His grin became mischievous.

“So… daggers?”he asked.

He snickered slyly, then reached to his other hip, which appeared to have nothing on it. Until he grabbed something seemingly solid and unsheathed a beautiful light blue rapier with a silver hilt. The invisible scabbard finally appeared now that the rapier was unsheathed, dark blue runes covering the entire thing.

“Or swords?”he asked.

He flipped the dagger a particular way, and it abruptly grew into a shortsword. He held both swords easily at his side, waiting patiently for Farah’s reply.

Farah arched an eyebrow and shook her head. "I've dealt with Andreas before. Believe me, you can't be much worse of a drunkard than him. He's as worse as they come."

Her eyes caught the moment the scabbard became visible once Ōn'nyosh unsheathed the rapier and widened. "You have magic?" she asked, tilting her head inquisitively.

"Please," she murmured, eyeing his blades as the dagger grew in length. The magic surprised her again. "Swords will do."

Ōn’nyosh hummed, then shrugged.

“Well, maybe the ‘how many drinks’ part isn’t the problem, even though it easily can be. It might be the ‘what I do when I’m drunk’ part that’s the issue. You’ll see what I mean later,”he said with a chuckle.

He snickered at her question, grinning.

“Farah, most of everything I’m wearing is magical. I, personally, am not a practitioner whatsoever, but I fucking love magic items,”he said.

He grinned at her words, then skipped a few steps away. He spun his blades in his hands as he turned to Farah.

“Now, show me your swords,”he bade, still grinning.

Farah was curious, while also wary, but she didn't press the conversation further. She supposed Ōn'nyosh was right. She would just have to find out later.

"Interesting," she remarked simply, studying his attire with her brown gaze and wondering what it all did. But before she could ask about any of it, he was already heading away from her.

"I can't make swords appear out of thin air," she countered. Her eyes glanced over to a rack of swords along one of the walls. Her eyes glowed, and the sword flew through the air into her grip. She inspected the blade before summoning a second weapon to her other hand and looked up at him. "Here they are."

Ōn’nyosh noticed her look and gave her a sly grin. He didn’t say anything, but he was clearly brimming with perverted thoughts and jokes.

“That’s a pity. I just did, and I don’t even know magic,”he remarked with a playful smile, teasing her.

He then watched her in fascination as she called a sword, then another, over to her. The way she inspected them revealed her expertise with swords. She was trained, properly. Intriguing.

“So, what’s the rules, if there is any? And, how will the winner be determined?”he asked with his mischievous grin.

Farah looked back at his face and saw the grin. With a start, she'd realized exactly what she'd just been doing – or at least what it had looked like she'd been doing – and she couldn't help the soft blush that rose on her face in response. But her eyes flashed with the challenge in his words.

"You did not make the swords appear," she countered fluidly. "Someone else's magic did. You are simply the wielder lucky enough to possess such fine craftsmanship."

The fairy looked amused by his grin. "Yes, I suppose we should lay out the parameters before we begin," she remarked. "Nothing severed, obviously. And that is up to you." Under Rosalind, Farah always sparred until first blood. Whether it was a tiny nick or… The scar on her left forearm prickled uncomfortably. Farah repressed the feeling.

When Ōn’nyosh noticed the flush, he burst into a fit of snickering. Damn, she was modest! He knew that she had been just looking at his clothes, but he had to fuck with her. He couldn’t resist. And, now, he was pondering how he could get her to show off her perverted side.

His snickering became full out laughter at her counter.

“Okay, you’ve got me there. But, yes, I do possess this magic, thus I am its ‘practitioner’. And, you never know, I might be a magician in disguise,”he said jokingly, pointing his rapier dramatically at her.

“Yeah, that’d be preferable. I agree with that wholeheartedly. I like having all my limbs still attached. And… hmm… First blood? Nothing too major, though, if possible. Particularly with this scary bitch,”he replied, holding up his rapier to indicate what ‘scary bitch’ he was referring to.

“She has a tendency of being a little too thirsty. And, I like you too much to hurt you like that,”he added vaguely.

Farah shook her head at his joke. "I would be able to tell if you had access to magic. I know for a fact that you don't, Ōn'nyosh, so quit trying to bluff."

The fairy inhaled shortly as he suggested first blood. The scar on her left arm seemed to burn through her clothes, wanting to make itself visible. She remembered, in vivid detail, the look on Andreas's face when he drew the blade across her skin. And the look on Rosalind's.

"First blood will do," Farah replied evenly while studying her blade again. She glanced up at his words. "Is that so?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, fuck. Just ruin the fun, why don’t you,”Ōn’nyosh replied with an amused snort.

He noted her inhale, and he paused, gazing at her with a bit of concern. He didn’t want to push her, but nor did he want a repeat of Andreas’ game to happen. He wasn’t always good at subtlety though.

“If you’re not fine with something, just let me know. And, don’t fucking hide it like earlier. I will fucking drop my weapons right now if you do,”he mentioned.

He wasn’t completely convinced by her words, particularly since she seemed to be momentarily avoiding his eyes. But, he snickered at his question.

“Indeed. There’s a reason I keep this cold-hearted bitch hidden,”Ōn’nyosh replied, still being vague. He wasn’t used to openly talking about his prized rapier, for good reason. It was extremely valuable, and could very easily be extremely deadly.

Farah rolled her eyes slightly. "I've been told I'm good at that," she quipped in return.

The fairy noted his concern and sighed. "First blood unsettles me," she admitted quietly. Her eyes glanced around to make sure no one else was watching before she stepped a bit closer to him to close the distance and briefly abandoned her swords to pull up the sleeve of her blouse. The pale scar stood out and run the entire length of her forearm. "First blood allowed this to happen," she stated, her expression unwavering.

Ōn’nyosh grinned,”We cancel each other out. I make the fun, you destroy it… or… ahem… anyway. And, that’s how the world is born.”

His concern grew and he watched her closely. When she abandoned her swords, he sheathed his rapier and turned his shortsword back into a dagger before doing the same. He eyed the scar, then gently grabbed Farah’s arm to better look at it.

For some reason, his mind drifted to Andreas. Ōn’nyosh didn’t really know anything about the man and his past with Farah, but something nagged at him about this scar. And, he already hated the prick as it was.

“I’m going to make a guess here. Was Shit-Beard holding the blade that did this?”he asked quietly, his tone serious.

Farah's breath hitched as he grabbed her, despite the touch being gentle, and her arm tensed like she was going to try and pull out of his grip. However, she didn't move other than her eyes, which studied his reaction intently.

She didn't speak her reply. Instead, her eyes changed colors, and she projected a memory into Ōn'nyosh's mind. It played through his vision and hearing as if it was the present moment, though the only difference was that it was like he was watching the scene play out as though hovering in the air next to the memory instead of watching it through Farah's own eyes.

A short but intensely commanding woman paced around the edge of a training mat. She was 5'5" and had blonde hair that was pulled back into a tight ponytail. The clothing she wore was best described as "casual militaristic." Her icy blue eyes swept over a grouping of four individuals, two of which Ōn'nyosh would recognize.

A younger version of Farah, though much more visibly anxious than the one he was currently with, stood beside an athletic-looking man slightly taller than her with shortly cropped black hair and blueish-gray eyes. On her other side was a younger version of Andreas looking no less cocky than the man they'd currently witnessed moments ago. Beside Andreas was another man who was Farah's height. He was bald and had gentle-looking brown eyes.

"Today's spars will be in pairs. Fairies will team up with a Specialist and work together to defeat the other team. First blood," the short blonde stated sharply. "As always." Her eyes narrowed, taking in the four. "Dowling, you'll be partnered with Silva. Ben, you're with Andreas."

"Yes, Rosalind," they spoke in agreement. Younger Farah looked relieved by the pairings, as did the black-haired man beside her, Saul Silva. The other man, Ben, looked over at Andreas to speak to him, but Andreas was busy staring at Farah and giving Saul little looks, which the other man was ignoring.

Soon, the spar had commenced. The fairies used their magic to keep each other at bay while the Specialists clashed blades in the center of the training mat. Farah and Saul worked with incredible chemistry and seemed to be gaining an edge against Andreas and Ben.

But suddenly, Andreas's earth fairy teammate managed to grow a vine that snared Saul's ankle and wrapped up around his legs to immobilize him. With the other Specialist subdued, Andreas ran hard at Farah. The young fairy was caught off guard, torn between defending herself and helping Saul. She made a decision and reached out to her own Specialist partner while calling his name. "Saul!"

That was the moment Andreas seized to draw his blade up her skin from her wrist to her elbow. Farah's eyes widened, and she staggered away from him. The wound gushed blood, and she crumpled slowly to her knees in shock.

Rosalind watched the fight with a narrowed gaze, and without a word, she turned and walked away.

Farah quickly drew the memory away before it could continue, and she eased her arm out of Ōn'nyosh's grip. "Does that answer your question?" she asked almost inaudibly.

(This is actually the first time I’ve ever written Ōn’nyosh holding back his anger, lol)

---

Ōn’nyosh immediately noticed her reaction to his touch and he lightened his grip, barely even holding her arm, in case she wanted to take it away from him.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a training scar, but it was the first one that saddened him, truly. Such a straight, seamless line, but full of pain and suffering. Ōn’nyosh didn’t need to ask to know that. He just wanted to figure out who had caused it, so he could break the fucker’s jaw.

When her eyes changed, Ōn’nyosh immediately guessed she was about to use her magic. He didn’t know why though. Until he was in the memory.

Reflexively, his hands tightened around her arm to steady himself, but he watched the memory, studying every detail, memorizing every name. His hatred for Andreas grew tenfold at the sight.

When Farah withdrew, Ōn’nyosh blinked. He then gently released Farah’s arm to massage his temples, trying to ward away his disorientation. He heard Farah, barely, but he didn’t react until a few moments later when the disorientation finally faded.

“I’m going to fucking spit in his other eye. Then skin him. Then cut his balls off and shove them up his ass… Maybe I’ll introduce him to Boromaxus too. That big, red bastard probably hasn’t fucked anything in centuries. And, Ass-Beard said he’d never seen a dragon before, so…”Ōn’nyosh mumbled irritably, speaking his thoughts aloud.

He cleared his throat and took a couple deep breaths to ease his anger. Then, he turned to Farah, his demeanor gentle but solemn.

“It does. And, I’m sorry I asked. That fucking shit-eating, cocksucking, brainless bastard has been in need of a good castration for a very long time, or worse. And, if he ever fucking touches you, or looks at you wrong, again, his dick is going to meet my rapier, the steel one, not the fun one. And, I will cut a fucking artery,”Ōn’nyosh said.

He shook his head and sighed, rubbing his temples again, unconsciously fidgeting and swaying in an attempt to alleviate the angry tension in his limbs. Even his tongue was involved, flicking in and out every few moments.

(Well, with Malcolm, that's the first I've ever written Farah really expressing her anger, so… XD)

Farah inhaled sharply as his grip on her arm tightened, but she realized why he'd done it. Magical memories had… sort of an effect on people the first time they experienced one. It took a while to get used to it.

She was very confused by his words that seemingly came out of nowhere. Then she realized that he was talking about Andreas. Her eyes widened, and she lifted up a hand to cover her mouth. "Oh my gods," she whispered. "Y-You don't have to do that. Really." She shook her head, dull surprise on her expression. "No, I'm… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown you the memory. Please… don't."

As angry as she'd been with Andreas that day, she hadn't retaliated. Saul had urged her to. Even Ben had told her what Andreas had done wasn't right. But Farah had done nothing. She preferred to keep it that way.

(Lol, yeah. And, I’ve actually only written Ōn’nyosh expressing his anger once, but that was more lashing out after being rejected, not true anger, lol)

---

Ōn’nyosh rose an eyebrow at her first words. Then, he paused in massaging his temples to pay attention to her as she continued. His eyes narrowed incredulously.

“Farah, I’m a fucking insult-throwing jester. I exaggerate a fuck ton. Besides, my shit talking keeps me from going on a homicidal rampage some days, like this one. But, don’t you fucking regret showing me that memory. Because, even though I really want to fucking stab that fuck in the throat, I know you plan on taking him out of Narsenshard. I’m not that fucking stupid to blindly lash out at people. I may not be able to hold my tongue for shit, but I don’t fucking hurt or kill without ample reason in that moment. But, I am telling you now, that I will hold to my promise. If he fucking touches you, he’s, at the very least, losing a hand,”Ōn’nyosh said, his tone turning deadly serious as he spoke.

He then moved away a few feet to momentarily pace. As he walked, he took his hat off, changing it into a comb and stashing it. Then, he grabbed his wine flask and took a big gulp from it. He continued to pace for a bit, taking deep breaths and thinking of happier things in an attempt to calm his anger. As he did so, he finally realized something and froze. He then turned back to Farah.

“You never mentioned you were a telepath. I’m curious, why? Or, were you deliberately avoiding any mention of it because of my perverted nature?”Ōn’nyosh asked, seeming quite eager to focus on something different than the rage-inducing Andreas.

Farah listened to his words with wide eyes. No one had ever been so viciously defensive over her before. Well, that wasn't exactly true. There had been Saul. But things had ended between them. It hurt Farah, but she was sure of it. There was no conceivable way Saul would want to still be with her after the way she'd ended things. Another heartbreak that had been nothing but her fault. If her former partner never wanted her to come back from Narsenshard, Farah would understand.

She dipped her head slightly, feeling the mixed emotions swirling inside of him and appreciating the distraction. "Among other reasons, yes. And, truthfully, I didn't want you to know how powerful I am. Compared to all you saw me visibly perform, my abilities regarding the mind, emotions, memories, and empathy are far greater than my learned abilities of other fairy magics."

Ōn’nyosh blinked at her answer, both surprised and incredulous. He then snickered at the thought of how powerful her mind was. He wondered what all she could do, what naughty things she could do.

“Well… it’s probably a good thing you’re avoiding my head. But, you literally told me you were the most powerful fairy in your world a few minutes ago, and you’re still trying to hide it? Fuck, Farah, you must be really fucking paranoid to be concerned about that around me. I’ve met a funky-ass fucking god. I know an asshole reptile demigod. I’m friends with a big-ass fucking dragon, dozens of vampires, a six thousand year old lich… who also happens to be madly in love with me for some fucking reason… So, really? You think I give two fucks how powerful you are, Farah? I’m more interested in your telepathy than your power, and that’s just because I’m a fucking perverted whore that really wants to… ahem… anyway… Otherwise, you are a just a really fascinating and really gorgeous woman,”Ōn’nyosh said.

Farah flushed at his snicker, sensing the general emotions behind his thoughts, then even more as he spoke. She caught the way his words caught at the end and then his perception of her.

"Most people have only wanted to become close with me because of my power," she stated quietly. "Andreas was one of those people, as was Rosalind. So forgive me for assuming you were the same. Someone looking beyond my power is… something I haven't experienced."

Then, the fairy narrowed her eyes slightly. She took a step toward him and looked up the few inches it took to meet his eyes. "You really want to what?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "Why are you so interested in my telepathy, Ōn'nyosh?"

Ōn’nyosh couldn’t help snickering some more at her blush. She was so modest. Damn, it was hard trying to be respectful of that. Modesty was not something Ōn’nyosh specialized in, at all.

His eyes softened at her words, though there was a breif flare of anger at the mention of Andreas. That Farah would be so mistreated bothered him immensely. No woman deserved that, whether they were a peasant, a queen, weak, or powerful.

“Well, I can assure you that I am most certainly not like them, especially Shit-Beard. One, I have a fuck ton of powerful friends, so I just don’t give a fuck. Two, I have always, always respected woman, and always will. I could go on for fucking hours, literally, about the beautiful qualities of a woman that no man will ever have. But, I think I’ll spare you that for now,”he replied with a gentle smile.

The moment her eyes narrowed and she stepped toward him, Ōn’nyosh took a step back, a playful grin abruptly appearing on his face. Though, he hesitated at her question, immediately clearing his throat. His cheeks started turning red, though it was unclear exactly why. He seemed to notice though, and cleared his throat again, laughing and looking away.

“Fuck… Just… ignore the colors. They’ll go back to normal in a few minutes. But, in regards to your question, are you really sure you want to know? I did mention I’m a perverted whore,”Ōn’nyosh asked.

Fuck, why did it have to be so hard to be modest?

Farah felt his flare of anger, and only for a moment, it made her wonder if he was angry with her for some godsforsaken reason. And then he began to speak. She offered a quiet laugh at his words and returned his smile with one of her own.

She let her surprise briefly flash across her face as he stepped back and grinned at her. But she immediately noticed his hesitation and his other mannerisms that signaled… embarrassment? He cleared his throat, adopted a sort-of blush, and refused to meet her eyes. Oh, this was very interesting.

In… certain circumstances… Farah wasn't always as modest as she seemed. Though it had been a long while since she'd indulged in her more seductive habits.

The fairy couldn't help the beginnings of a smirk that pulled at her lips. She maintained her gaze on him even when he wouldn't return it, and she tilted her head slightly to the side, feigning a bit of innocence. "Oh, I'm aware," she murmured silkily. "Though I won't lie; your denying to tell me is making me all the more curious. What are you thinking right now?"

Ōn’nyosh glanced at Farah, noticing her smirk. He tried hard to suppress a shiver, but it instead caused two red patches to appear on his neck. He felt them keenly, clearing his throat a couple more times. He then turned back to her fully.

“I see that fucking smirk! You fucking temptress, acting all innocent and shit. I fucking see what you’re doing,”he called out, pointing at her.

Her words, and her tone, made him pause, and it took a lot of willpower to keep from just outright begging her to do anything she wanted to do to him. He fidgeted, avoiding her gaze again. Unfortunately, his resistance faltered mere moments later.

“I fucking envy that you can… can somehow be so fucking modest with ease! How? How can you manage that? You… You’re fucking gorgeous! I love that you’re a telepath! And… well… it… Fuck! You’re a fucking telepath! Why are you asking what I’m thinking when you could be ravaging my fucking mind where we fucking stand?”Ōn’nyosh burst.

He then burst into a fit of helpless laughter, shaking his head at himself. A somewhat futile idea came to him a moment later.

“You want a drink? I know I do. We could go back to Stockist’s Bay. Or I could show you around the city a little more, eh?”he offered quickly.

Farah's eyes darted down to his neck as two more red patches appeared. Odd. Was that his way of blushing? Though as he called her out, she couldn't help but laugh. "Please. I'm not doing anything, Ōn'nyosh. I'm just asking a few questions. It's all in your mind."

Though as he burst out what he was thinking, she smirked again. "You envy my modesty?" she asked curiously. Then her eyes narrowed. "Is that what you want?" she asked, her voice almost a purr. "You want me in your mind? To… ravage your mental state until you can't so much as think about anything but me?"

Her gaze remained fixed on him as he laughed and shook his head. She noted several of his tells before taking a step back and nodding. "A drink sounds lovely. I'll take a rain check on our swordfight." Her eyes glowed with her magic, and without looking, she made the two swords she'd drawn fly back through the air and settle themselves on the sword rack once more. She inclined her head back in the direction they'd come from. "Shall we be off, then?"

Ōn’nyosh paused a moment at her laugh and words, a bit startled by her reaction. Well… that tactic had utterly failed. But, he knew better than to believe her words. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Shit. I call bullshit on that, by the way. You’re doing something. And, you know that as much as I do,”he said.

“Yes, I envy you and that evil fucking smirk,”Ōn’nyosh commented with a snort.

Though, when she adopted the purring tone, he was flustered again instantly.

“Or, until I can’t even fucking think, but that’s your call,”he replied immediately. He then realized that he’d just said that.

“Fuck!”

He paused at her words, then watched her magic with just his eyes. She was doing it effortlessly, a testament to her power. By the idiot gods, he could think of so many things she could do to him.

Her words startled him out of his thoughts and he chuckled, then nodded. He then made his way to the horses, since he’d already put his swords up, and climbed onto his horse. He kept glancing over and watching Farah, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze. It was too tempting, and he didn’t know how to act. Besides, the red patches were taking their sweet ass time to fade.

Farah bit her lip and gazed up the few inches it took to reach his eyes. Ōn'nyosh was right; the fairy was incredibly aware of every little movement she made down to the twitching of her pinkie finger. It all carried weight in whichever direction she so chose it to. But she didn't need him to know that. Oh, it was so amusing how he thought she was modest. Well, most people did. Few ever got to see her… seductive nature. Farah Dowling was a woman who kept her cards close to her chest until the time was necessary to show her hand.

She arched an eyebrow, amused, at his comments. "I have no idea what evil smirk you're referring to nor what you could possibly envy about such an expression." Farah paused and leaned slightly closer to him as she lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. "And are you sure that's a choice you want to place in my hands?"

However, once she was done setting the swords back in their proper place, her eyes remained silver-blue. With an evil fucking smirk on her lips, she projected a memory into Ōn'nyosh's mind. It was incredibly brief, though incredibly hard to miss.

The fairy's lips were parted. Another's mouth was on her neck, sucking at her sweet skin. Her hair was let down completely from its updo, and a pair of fingers were laced through it tightly near the base of her hairline. She moaned and tossed her head back while her partner tugged on her hair. Immediately, she was rendered breathless, gasping for air and moaning again. Her hips bucked uncontrollably, and her eyes were closed in sheer ecstasy. A thin layer of sweat was visible on her forehead as the male she was with untangled his fingers from her hair and slid his hands all the way down her bare body to grip her waist. She was panting as he guided her down onto-

Farah drew the memory away quickly, her eyes turning back to their natural brown. She reached up to stroke her fingers through her mare's mane before mounting and sneaking a glance over at Ōn'nyosh to catch his reaction. "Now about that drink," she cooed sweetly.

Ōn’nyosh narrowed his eyes at her words.

“Oh, you’re a sly one,”he commented.

He watched curiously when she leaned forward, then almost shivered at her whisper. Oh, she really was a sly one. A fucking fox is what she was!

He leaned forward as well, his eyes boring into hers.

“Is that really a question you need to ask me?”

He immediately saw her smirk, and knew something was coming, but he was caught completely off guard by the memory. A gasp escaped him and he finally shivered, red patches instantly forming on his temples.

At that, he quickly turned away, grabbing the comb out of his pocket and turning it back into his hat. He made sure to lean his hat toward her, so that his face was in a shadow every time she looked at him. Though, it wasn’t too hard to see that his cheek and neck spots had grown.

Mumbling ‘Not in public’ the entire walk, and while he was on his horse, Ōn’nyosh led the way out of the Training Yard. He barely caught her words, but he didn’t reply, feeling even more the need to move fast, else he would forgo his rule against undressing in public. He didn’t turn toward Stockist’s Bay, instead heading into the Residential District. It wasn’t as busy as the rest of the city, and it allowed Ōn’nyosh to practically race through the streets and back into the Trading District.

He headed toward a two-story building called Miknein’s Glory, which served as both a tavern and an inn. Ōn’nyosh tied his horse in front of the place, took a few deep breaths to calm himself down enough that the spots faded, then headed inside.

The place was a bit more fancy than Stockist’s Bay, and also not as packed. There was actually room to move around without possibly bumping into someone. Ōn’nyosh went straight to the bar. The bartender, an older man, chuckled at the sight.

“Hey, Traveler, your usual?”the man asked.

Ōn’nyosh grinned,”Indeed. A shot here and a bottle upstairs. And… whatever my lovely companion wants.”

Ōn’nyosh glanced behind himself, hoping he hadn’t moved too fast for Farah to keep up. It wasn’t often that he became so desperate in public that he was literally racing through the city. Farah, though, wasn’t the average woman. And, he was certain now that she had a darker, more seductive side that she kept chained up. Oh, he hoped he could unleash that beast, and soon.

Farah tilted her head subtly to the side. "Am I?" she murmured. Then her expression softened at his question. She studied him intently with her gaze. "I suppose not."

His gasp and shiver told her that she'd done her job well. Foreplay was rarely her strong suit, but Ōn'nyosh was proving to be so damn desperate for her. Those red patches were a lovely little tell that the fairy planned to take advantage of whenever she could. It was amusing how he tried to hide it. Even if Farah couldn't see the spots – and she surely could – she could still feel the emotions swirling inside of him.

"What happened to 'going back to normal in a few minutes'?" she teased deviously before clicking her tongue against her teeth and urging her mare to follow his. She could hear him muttering something under his breath. Out of curiosity, she temporarily used her boosted hearing to catch the words. He was muttering "Not in public" over and over. She withdrew her magic with a satisfied smirk.

Though confusion flitted across her features as Ōn'nyosh rode past Stockist's Bay and continued faster through several other parts of Naskeni. However, she didn't question it and followed him at an ample speed to keep up with his pace. Her eyes read the sign as she slipped off of her mare and tied it up beside Ōn'nyosh's steed. She then spared a glance back at Ōn'nyosh and noticed him taking deep breaths while the redness of his skin faded. Interesting…

Farah deferred to his lead inside and followed him through the tavern. She enjoyed this one much better already. There was a more refined element to it – or as refined as one could get for a bar – and fewer people. Anywhere where there were fewer people was a place Farah wanted to be. Her path was only a step behind Ōn'nyosh's.

It didn't surprise her in the slightest that the bartender was familiar with Ōn'nyosh. Though she arched an eyebrow at his request for a bottle upstairs. Oh, she'd definitely assumed there would be… something… happening between the two of them, especially with the jester's nature. But she didn't think it would be so soon. Perhaps that was her own fault for selecting the memory that she had.

When Ōn'nyosh glanced behind him, Farah wasn't there. She was already slipping onto the seat beside him and smiling politely at the bartender. "I'll have whatever he's having," she said simply. "Minus the bottle."

“Yes, you are,”Ōn’nyosh immediately replied with a chuckle.

When her expression softened, his became playful, as if teasing her for asking the question.

“Damn you,”he burst in reply to her tease, avoiding her gaze even more than he already was.

Ōn’nyosh, for a very breif moment, was worried when Farah wasn’t behind him. But, it quickly calmed when he saw her in the seat next to him. Her words to the bartender surprised him.

“Are you sure you want to dare that? I mostly drink whiskey, and the good shit too,”Ōn’nyosh commented.

The bartender also paused, eyeing the two for a moment. He then shrugged nonchalantly, turned away to pour Farah a shot, and handed it to her.

“If you don’t want the whiskey, just hand it to him. He’s paying for it anyway. He always pays for his companion’s drinks,”the bartender said.

“And, speaking of…”Ōn’nyosh remarked, reaching into a side pocket of his satchel and pulling out a platinum coin.

“How many damn Korbainals do you got, Ōn’nyosh?”the bartender burst, taking the offered coin.

“Enough,”Ōn’nyosh immediately replied with a mischievous grin.

“Enough to buy Haligarden off of your ass?”

Ōn’nyosh blinked at the man.

“I’ve known you for five years. You’re surprised that I know?”

“No comment then, Maelan. I know nothing of what you speak.”

“Uh-huh. I know better.”

Ōn’nyosh rolled his eyes, though he was actually quite amused. Maelan wasn’t the type to snitch on a friend, particularly one that was secretly rich, and a frequent customer.

Farah felt the changing in Ōn'nyosh's emotions as he went from feeling worried to calm to surprised. It amused her as his shock mixed with the bartender's subtle curiosity.

"Your concern is admirable, but I assure you that I can handle my liquor, thank you very much," she replied easily.

She took the shot in her grip and glanced from the bartender to Ōn'nyosh. "That doesn't surprise me," she murmured before looking down at the liquid. Farah kept her gaze down as the pair spoke of money and such topics, but she did wonder who or what Haligarden was.

Before she could question their discussion any longer, she lifted the glass to her lips and whipped her head back to swallow the alcohol. It burned her throat on the way down, but that was what she loved about it so much. She set the glass back down before glancing over at the jester with arched eyebrows and an amused smirk. "Well?"