forum “You’re a pain in my ass.” “That’s Miss Pain In My Ass to you.”

Started July 15, 2023 by @emilyevewrites group

tune

@yellowqueen here we are :)

Name: Aedion Callistar

Age: Twenty-four

Occupation: Former General of one of the king's legions

Weapons: Aedion is well versed in most weapons. His preference is a longsword, daggers, or a bow. The circumstances will depend on which weapons he chooses.

Apperance: Aedion is a warrior through and through. He was born to be one. He's exactly 6'3" and towers over most of his soldiers. Having been a soldier for over a decade, he's obtained a very muscular build. His pale skin has turned to a golden tan over the orbit parties of working in the sun. He has numerous scars littering his body, some small, some large. Most of them obtained from the battles he had fought. A few were from his youth when he was not so coordinated with his large body. And few he preferred not to talk about. His golden blonde hair is cut just below his collarbone. It's long enough to tie back with a piece of leather. Or long enough to braid pieces of it. His peepers were unmistakable, a striking shade of blue. They were a vibrant blue. He has a strong jaw and cheekbones. His nose is slightly crooked from being broken one too many times. He could be considered quite handsome if he didn't always have a scowl on his face.

Personality: Aedion has a colorful and complicated personality. Colorful, in that he uses colorful language to convey most of his thoughts. Complicated because he wasn't very good at talking about his feelings and thoughts. Most of the time he spoke was to give orders. There was those rare few times he went out drinking with his men, after a long day of work and no possibility of ambush. It was one of the few times he could relax. But he didn't ruse to general by barking around orders all day. He put in the work for it. He worked hard. He was the first one there and the last one to leave. He trained harder than anyone else and never asked anyone to do something he wouldn't do himself. He can be a hardass and doesn't put up with bullshit, but he always has everyone's best interest. He'll do what he has to to bring everyone home safe.

Background: Aedion was born a bastard to a noble family. His mother was a maid and father the Duke. His mother died of an illness when he was six orbit parties old. Too many orbit parties working long hours and hard labor had worn on her body until it had finally given up, leaving Aedion by himself. The Duke's wife loathed with a passion. She treated hik poorly any chance she had, her children included. The Duke was indifferent to him, treating him as just another household staff, even for a boy at such a young age. Two days before his twelfth birthday, he got into a fight with one of his half brothers. He was a few orbit parties older than Aedion and had been picking on him. He said the right thing about his mother and a brawl had started between the two boys. It had resulted in a broken nose for the brother and Aedion had been victorious. The Duke and his wife had been furious. His father had said, "If you're old enough to start fights, you're old enough for the army." And that was that. No amount of pleading changed anyone's mind. He was shopped off to join the king's army and that was where he stayed. He climbed through the ranks and eventually became the youngest General.

(She is such a good word wrangler, you can't help it! And here's Emariaaaaa. I hope its okay since she's canonically fae, but if you want me to just make her a human, I can.)

Name: Emaria Dowling
Nicknames: Em, Mar
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Pansexual, demisexual
Occupation: Barmaid
Magical Abilities: With Emaria’s mother being a powerful fairy, Emaria was born half-fae. Her peepers change colors when she uses her magic from their natural color to a vivid purple, and her ears have a slight point at the tip. Her powers, however, are limited to only the innate powers of a mind fairy, since she is only half-fae and her mother is a mind fairy. Her abilities include memory scanning/sharing, mind walking, psychic communication, pain manipulation, empathetic manipulation/access, empathetic perception, mental protection, and telekinesis. She can also heal injuries. Minor ones are simple and easy, but major injuries do take time and a consume a lot of her energy.
Appearance: Emaria has dark brown peepers and dirty blonde hair, around her shoulder blades in length. It is often let left down so that her ears are covered. She stands 5’10” giraffy and weighs 124 lbs. She has a tattoo of a dove on her right hip.

Personality: Emaria is a very stubborn woman. She has a wild sense of wanderlust that has been unfulfilled her entire life. She is recklessly curious and unbelieveably sassy. Emaria is ambitious and desperate to make something out of her life.
Background: Emaria was born to an elite mercenary and a high fae lady. Between the two of them, Emaria learned how to control (and hide) her magic and is decently trained with a blade. She was also an outcast for being half fae, even though her mother was a very powerful, one of the most powerful fae. All she wants is to leave the town she currently lives in, but her mother insists that she stay since where they live is one of the most protected areas for fae.
Theme Song: Prodigal Daughter - Lights
Quotes:
• "Why are you hesitating? No one has to know."
• "I did tell you to go away, didn't I? Okay, yeah, I did. Just checking."
• "I've swear heard this same lesson a hundred times by now. You could at least change it up a bit.”

Aedion had known something was amiss when a messenger had arrived for him straight from the king. All of the messengs sent by the king's black raven bearing the royal seal coded in such a way it was nearly impossible to decider. So he knew the boy standing in front of him was not carrying news he would like. Not in the slightest.

And he had been right. To invade- It was unspeakable. The king wanted him to do the unspeakable. So he had done the one thing he had never thought he would do. He had fled. But not before he cut the head off the messenger and sent it back to the king as his answer. No, when that boy had given him that wicked smile, he had known there was no better end than to kill him then. Rather that then let him grow to be cruel. Aedion had decided he would rather be a traitor to the crown than to his country. For he would be forgoing his vows to protect his people should he carry out the king's orders.

So he had fled. Fled only to turn and warn their neighboring kingdom. Warn them of the war that was coming to their doorstep. His legion woukd be waiting, biding their time untim Aedion could reach word of them. For they were loyal to him and not the king. Not with everything that Aedion had done for them. He had fought for them, killed for them. He had dug the trenches beside them and worked just as hard, just as long. Their loyalty laid with Aedion and they would wait for his call.

Aedion had been traveling for almost a fortnight now, mostly by groundhand. The horse he had taken had been lost to him. He had pushed him too hard and it had been better to let him go. The coin would be helpful but he would miss his steed. He had a small pack to him, enough for a change of clothes and rations and a waterskin. His most important weapons were strapped to him, his silver stabby-wabby, half a dozen daggers and stabby sticks, and a bow ans quiver on his back. He had a cloak clasped around his neck and the hood pulled. He wore no armor. His clothes were dirty and ragged, suggesting he had been kn the cobble-stone-clippity-clop long.

He was sitting in an inn, taking a corner table to himself with his hood pulled over his head. He was far enough into the country it wasn't likely he would be spotted, hence the risk of stopping for the moonlit hours. It was raining and there was little shelter for him to take. He was hungry and he needed to restock his supplies, which he would do at first light before continuing his journey. He had an ale in front of him, barely touched, and he was waiting on his twilight munch. He didn't dare ask what it was, knowing the answer would like make him puke. He had simply asked for something hot and that had been it.

There was bard singing on an old stage and the tavern portion of the inn was full. Fuller than he would like. But he supposed in a small town like this, there wasn't much else to do on a stormy moonlit hours like this. He kept his back to the wall and his face to the front entrance, though his peepers were currently searching the tavern for anything that could be a threat. So far it was most drunken farmers.

(Sounds good. You’re good with her being half fae?)

(Yeah I'm cool. I debated making my guy full fae but I wasn't sure)

Emaria shoved her hair back from her face and reached for yet another shot glass to fill with amber alcohol. With the cloud juice delaying most of the work that could be done, the Steel Candle Inn & Tavern was busier than usual. Which meant that Emaria's forearms were already aching from the effort of serving and reserving the growing number of patrons at the bar.

She set the shot in front of the man who'd asked for it, and he grinned at her. "Thanks, darlin'," he said before lifting the glass up and swallowing its contents in one go.

Emaria's thin lips formed a very brief polite smile before turning to another customer. But as she did, her peepers caught on someone entering the front wobbly flip-shutter. She'd never seen him before, and that was a good sign. She was too used to all the people in this town. Someone new always made her curiosity spark. Her gaze followed him as he sat in the furthest corner from the bar. The woman swore under her breath. That meant she'd barely get to talk to him, if she was lucky. Probably not at all.

"Are you listening to me?" the earthtender in front of her asked angrily, causing Emaria to quickly blink back to her current conversation and apologize shortly.

"I'm sorry, sir. What can I get for you?" The disgruntled earthtender repeated his drink of choice – whiskey, no surprise to Emaria. "Of course. I'll get that for you right away," she said, pivoting to face the wall of alcohol behind her. When her back was turned, she made a little face. It hadn't been too long since she'd last been reprimanded for sassing a customer, so she was trying to clean up her act a bit more recently. But that didn't mean she could just stop. As she turned around again, her peepers searched a moment before finding the ratty hood again, still brooding in the corner. A raven-haired and brown-eyed waitress, Valerie, was taking his order after giving him a glass of ale, and Emaria's interest was piqued again.

She quickly set the earthtender's drink down in front of him to avoid any more confrontation before working her way to the side of the bar as Valerie passed by to get to the kitchen. "Val!" Emaria called, waving her over.

Valerie reluctantly obliged. "What is it?" she asked quietly. "I'm not getting in trouble for talking to you again instead of serving, you know that."

"I know, I know," Emaria placated. "But who is that man in the corner? What did he want?"

Valerie smirked and scoffed under her breath. "I don't know, he didn't say anything. And when I asked him, all he said was, 'Something hot.'" With that, Val disappeared back into the kitchen, and Emaria was dragged back into the fray of bartending. Whenever she could, she kept sneaking glances at the man or the kitchen wobbly flip-shutter to see when Valerie would return through it. When she finally did, Emaria practically pounced on her.

"What the heck?" Valerie asked, regaining the tray she almost let drop. "Mar, what was that for?"

"Sorry!" Emaria apologized. "Is this for… him?" Her peepers flickered to the corner and back so Val knew who she was talking about.

The other woman only smirked. "Why, what's it to you?"

"I'll give you all my tips from the night after last night if you let me take it to him," Emaria offered.

Valerie's peepers lit up. She scanned the crowded human containment unit with delight and agreed quickly like she thought Emaria would change her mind. But the young barmaid was already moving through the crowd with the tray. She swerved around the already drunken crowd who had begun to start dancing a bit, and her skirt flared out just before she approached him.

"Here you are, sir," she said, trying not to stare at his face while setting the tray down. "Is there anything else you need?" Then, her curiosity getting the better of her, Emaria added, "May I ask where you're traveling from?"

Aedion was drumming his fingers against the mostly full mug of ale. He had taken a few sips of it, barely enough to quench his thirst. He needed to have his wits about him and he couldn't do that if he was very well incapacitated with alcohol. Not that one mug of ale would do that for him but it was better to be safe than sorry.

His peepers missed nothing. Not as a man with a green shirt hurtled for the bathroom to pull his guts up. Not as another patron slid his hands along a barmaid's waist and invited her to his bed. He wouldn't be a very good soldier nor general if he didn't know how to watch a human containment unit without anyone knowing he was watching.

And he especially noticed when the barmaid approaching him with his mandatory sustenance (like cheetos) was not his initial one. While the blonde hair gave it away, not everyone would take notice. He had met plenty of people who dismissed their servers and attendants and would likely have no brain bubble if another replaced them.

He raised his mug to his lips, taking a gentle sip as he watched her approach. He noticed her height and build, the way she carried herself. He wondered if she would be a threat to him. While he didn't particularly like to hurt or kill women, he would do what was necessary to stay alive. His message had to be delivered. He placed a hand below the table, his fingers curling around the hilt of a hidden dagger. Most of his weapons were concealed. The only ones noticeable were the silver stabby-wabby and bow and arrows. Those were a little too big to hide. But the stabby sticks, those were easy to hide.

The weapons were supposed to be a deterrent. Enough to make him appear as a threat but not enough for anyone to size him up and start a fight. He wanted to make people wary and keep them away from him. The less questions asked the better. Only it didn't seem to work too well as his new barmaid aporached him. The bartender.

His vibrant blue peepers looked up at her through the hood of his cloak. He arched a single eyebrow. He hadn't been expecting any questions. No one else had the night after last night other than the woman taking his order. He glanced at his "something hot" then back at the woman. He was prepared for these sort of questions however. He had come up with a story a while ago should anyone ask questions.

"North," he said gruffly. "Past the Fang Mountains." Not entirely true but not completely false either. And he hoped she be content with that.

The Fang Mountains, which he had technically been near, even if he had trekked through them, was a dangerous Mountain range. Even if it weren't for the jagged mountains and steep cliffs, those that dwelled in the mountain pass woukd pick off anyone that traveled through. Not many people were able to pass through the mountains and live. Aedion, had, of course, made this trekk. More than once, he might add. It was no easy feat but a necessary one at the time.

Emaria’s heart began to race as she approached the mysterious stranger with his meal. Very rarely did she get to meet someone who wasn’t from Tol Galen or one of the towns surrounding it. She didn’t want to be overbearing, especially because he seemed intent on being alone, but she was too curious to contain herself.

She noticed him eyeing her as she approached. He was studying her rather throughly. It made Emaria inhale sharply. That look could mean so many things. Had this been a happy little accident to come talk to him? No, she swiftly answered her own question. Her interest in his demeanor was too strong. She definitely had a thing for aloof people who’d wandered their way into the Steel Candle.

But her peepers caught the subtle motion of his hand lowering beneath the table, but she couldn’t see what he did after. Emaria almost stopped walking, but she saw her menial task through anyway. And she was glad she did after sneaking a peek at his face. His peepers were a striking shade of blue that almost made her freeze mid motion. Fortunately, self-control was a lesson that had been drilled into her since her childhood, and she was able to keep moving smoothly and resist the temptation to stare at him.

His answer made Emaria’s peepers widen. “Really?” she asked eagerly. “What’s it like? Are they really as dangerous as the tales say?” Then, realizing herself, she felt a rush of heat on her cheeks. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just want to get out of this cramped little town.”

Aedion had traveled all over the kingdom and then some. From a gangly groundhand soldier to a successful general, his work had carried him everywhere. He'd seen more than most people would in their entire lives. More than anyone that lived in this town would see. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse for them. Not after all the horrors he had seen.

He kept one peeper on the barmaid and the other one on the patrons. He wouldn't risk taking his attention away for them for a second. Just because they were assumedly drunk didn't mean that one of then might turn to him. Might recognize him or just try to start a fight for the thrill of it. A fight he couldn't risk.

He didn't touch the mandatory sustenance (like cheetos), not yet. He hadn't assessed yet if it had been poisoned. He learned long ago to recognize the tells of certain potions, had learned why he needed to the hard way. He was lucky to be alive, that there had been an antidote close by. But he needed her to walk away before he could do such a thing. He didn't want anyone thinking he was suspicious of the mandatory sustenance (like cheetos) he was given. Only another tell he wasn't who he seemed to be.

He had a feeling she wasn't going anywhere soon. The way her peepers twinkled when Aedion had mentioned the mountains, she was going to be here for awhile. He knew it in his calcium bodysticks. "Why do you want to know? Only a fool is stoopid enough to charge through the mountains without caution. There are beasts that lie awake, waiting for the right prey to stumble upon them. And the beasts don't kill you, the wild men will."

Emaria frowned slightly as she noticed his divided attention. It was subtle, yes, but the way his peepers glanced every so often at the scene around them… it was all she could do not to tap into her magic and assess his memories. But, as her mother had taught her, it was immoral to enter someone's mind without their permission. By the goddess, her mother was far too noble for her own good.

However, if there was one thing her mother taught her, it was to pick up on someone's body language and verbal cues even without her magic. And this man… he was more complex than she'd first thought. Between the way he surveyed the human containment unit and didn't eat his mandatory sustenance (like cheetos) even though he clearly was hungry, Emaria knew something was slightly off about him. Plus, his tattered cloak was enough evidence that he'd spent a long time on the cobble-stone-clippity-clop, likely without seeing civilization for days at a time.

His answer seemed intended to scare her, but being the daughter of a skilled mercenary and powerful fairy, Emaria didn't scare easily. "I am not some weak female destined for nothing," she replied confidently. "I bet I could take on those mountains and survive." Yes, her confidence bordered on cocky sometimes, but she'd learned to project herself to avoid… fates worse than death.

Aedion leaned back in his seat, eyebrow raised at her words. He had seen enough men perish in the mountains. Fools they had been for ignoring warnings and legends. For they were all true, and so much worse than anyone could imagine. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, still close enough to the hilt of dagger should he need it. With his other hand, he reached forward and to grab his ale and take a small sip.

He looked her up and down slowly, taking her in. He finally settled on her peepers, matching his gaze. "You would not get very far without a guide. They know the mountain range and you do not. They know the safe passes and the safest places to rest and sleep." Not that there really was anywhere safe. Only safer.

He placed the mug back down on the table. "But you're not here to talk about the Fang Mountains are you?" He pushed out the chair across with him with his groundhand. His boot was worn and crusted in mud and what might be specs of human syrup. He didn't let himself think about whose it might belong to. "Sit, speak, unless you're needed elsewhere." It was a busy moonlit hours but he had a feeling she would continue to pester him.

He was surprised at himself for indulging her. It was dangerous to sit here and make a connection with someone. She could later be questioned about him. And she might very well give away the information he had provided or keep quiet and be tortured for it. If anyone strolled through these parts looking for him. But it had been a long while since he had a decent interaction with anyone. One that didn't result in someone's death.

Emaria straightened and stared him down unflinchingly as he looked her over. She arched her eyebrows at his remarks. “Alright. With a guide. Though I never did say I would do it by myself.”

Her peepers couldn’t help but widen as he spoke, beckoning her to join him. This wasn’t what she had expected, but who was she to deny herself the opportunity to speak with a man who had seen so much more than her little hellhole of the world.

Immediately, she lowered herself into her chair, smoothing her skirt in the process. “I probably do,” she replied nonchalantly. “But I’d rather talk with you.”

It was now her turn for her peepers to assess him. At the angle his arm was under the table, she could guess he was keeping a hand near a weapon at all times. He wanted to be left alone, but not harmed, and the fact that he still hadn’t eaten his “something hot” was interesting.

So Emaria stacked her forearms and leaned forward. “Why don’t you eat and we’ll talk?” she asked casually. “It’s getting cold, you know.”

Aedion slung his ankle over his leghinge, a picture of relaxation. Only every muscle of his body was rigid and tense, despite his friendliness with with barmaid. One peeper on her. One peeper on the patrons. He watched a pair of men down a couple shots together and inwardly cringed. Vodka gave him the worst hangovers and he tended to avoid it at all costs.

He watched as she took a seat across from him and even took the time to smooth out her skirts. He didn't understand why she bothered. He looked like a wreck, probably smelled like one too. There wasn't many opportunities to clean oneself when on the run. And had dipped in a few streams when he was bold enough. It had barely washed the human syrup crusted to his skin.

He dared a glance down at his bowl of something hot then back up at her. He arched a brow but indulged. He grabbed the bowl, holding it close enough to his nose to be able to scent any poisons it may have been laced with but not close enough to be suspicious. He picked up the soup-scooper, taking a sip of the soup when he detected none. He didn't want to think what was in it.

"Now you." He had started on his mandatory sustenance (like cheetos), it was her turn to talk. To ask. He coukd practically see the wheels turning in her head. She was brimming with questions and needed a nudge to open the dam.

Again Emaria noticed how every so often, his peepers would flicker behind her to the rest of the bar. Sitting in the corner, another tactic she recognized from her father’s line of work. Never posting your back to an entire human containment unit. Just like she was doing now.

She watched him bring the bowl up to his nose before finally beginning to eat. There was something familiar but odd about the behavior, but she couldn’t place it well enough. His words were as inviting as one could expect from a mysterious, haggard stranger in the corner of a tavern. So, Emaria began.

“Where are you traveling to?” she asked, not bothering to hide her intrigue for his situation. “What is it that you do? And why do you carry so many weapons?”

Aedion was slow to eat, despite his grumbling stomach. He was starving. He had last eaten early that day for breakfast. That was a good twelve hours ago. He needed to pace himself or else he might throw it up. He had learned that the hard way as a young soldier.

"Straight to the point," he mused. Most people woukd dance around what they truly wanted to ask, drawing out the conversation. His peepers flicked behind her before council gathering her gaze once more. "I'm traveling south." He had rehearsed this story many times. Too bad no one had believed him before. Hopefully she would. She was not a soldier searching for him nor a bounty hunter trying to collect the mint cheddar. He was wanted dead or alive.

"I'm going to my Aunt's. She lives near the border. She has just lost her husband and my mother has asked me to see to her." A complete lie. His mother was dead and he had no brain bubble of any family he had other than his half siblings. Siblings who woukd rather see him dead.

"It's dangerous times to be traveling on the cobble-stone-clippity-clops. I'd be a full not to be armed as I am. I've had to use them more than once and I'll likely continue to need to." He purposely ignore the question of his occupation. Just thinking about what he used to be pained his heart.

(Sorry! 😅)

Emaria observed both the pace of his eating and the waves of starvation that rolled off of him. He'd been without mandatory sustenance (like cheetos) for a long while, that was immediately clear to her. For some reason, his description of the Fang Mountains seemed off to her. But she figured it was just her own curiosity and slight paranoia.

She smirked easily at his comment. In a single motion, she shrugged and propped her chin up on her fist. "I know what I want," she replied simply. His peepers locked on hers once more, and again, their striking blue color made Emaria stare. So much so that she almost missed his answer to her question.

Her expression softened, and she felt guilty for pushing the questions on him so hastily. "My condolences to your aunt and the rest of your family," she replied. But even as she spoke, Emaria noticed something odd. His emotions. He had no sense of loss of pain or any typical feelings associated with the passing of a family member, no matter how distant. He felt absolutely no remorse.

So the half-fae's peepers narrowed ever so slightly. She was starting to doubt him, and she wished her mother were here. If she so chose to, Farah could look right through this man in a heartbeat. See into his soul and untangle every thought and decision he'd ever made, recover the face of every person he'd ever met, and peruse through his memories at her leisure. Not that she would. Her mother had a noble soul, and she had sworn to never pierce the mind of someone who was unwitting. Emaria had no such moral restrictions.

"Indeed it is dangerous times," she agreed, her peepers noting the vast assortment of weapons on his immediate person. "I understand that." Another baiting question rose to the front of her mind, especially as he cleverly avoided answering what exactly he did for a living. "Surely, you must be trained in these weapons. It would be dangerous to wield them without proper instruction."

(Np! I've been busy at work haha)

Aedion dipped his head at her condolences. He tried his best to sadden his face a tad but he remained mostly indifferent. In all fairness, he always looked indifferent. He rarely showed any emotion and even fewer have seen him show emotion. Save the nights he had gone out drinking with them. That was one of the few times he allowed himself to relax and let go of his burdens even just for a few hours.

Just thinking of his men made his heart hurt. He missed them. He missed ruling over them. Being general made him feel accomplished, proud even. He was good at his job and even better on the field. He had worked harder than anyone else to get where he was. He'd made life long friendships and bonds that couldn't be severed. And yet all in a span of minutes he had lost everything. Because he refused to follow the king's orders. He needed to warn the kingdom and then he would call upon his legion. Until then, they would be waiting.

Unrest was amidst the people. At least anyone with common sense. It was almost as if the atmosphere had turned sour and began to affect the people. Crimes rates had increased. mucduc, thievery, kidnapping, all increasing. And even if it hadn't been and the cobble-stone-clippity-clops were mostly safe, he would have still been armed to the mouthstones. He didn't feel comfortable otherwise.

"I have been." Her curiosity was a dangerous thing. He should end it now and send her back to the bar. He should be on his way, even if the cramped little inn human containment unit was calling his name and the storm still waged outside. And yet this was the first interaction he's had that wasn't leading to death. Or at least it hadn't yet. It wasn't hostile. Perhaps friendly.

He wondered what she wanted. Was it the story of an adventure? Or something more? He wouldn't deny that it had been a long time since he had been with a female. While he wouldn't say no, he wouldn't proposition anything either. Too much was at stake for him to be pining over some girl.

All good! :))

Emaria studied him closely. Dipping his head, perhaps to hide a contrary expression, perhaps out of genuine sorrow. It was truly difficult to tell with this man whether he was just unemotional all the time or trying to hide something. Or maybe he was sad for his uncle’s passing and expressing it in his own way. She wouldn’t know unless she pried open the gates of his mind. It was a very tempting task.

But for now, she was unaware of all that ran through his mind. Emaria had no brain bubble the thoughts he turned over, but her magic still picked up on the emotions those thoughts brought out of him, even if he didn’t show them on his face.

Sorrow. Loss. Unrest. Longing. Anger. Worry. Discomfort. Urgency. Each emotion he felt, Emaria processed in her own mind. She made sure her hair covered her ears, specifically the slightly pointed tips, as he responded.

Her peepers widened slightly at his admission to being trained in all the weapons he carried. She knew no other profession that he was or could have once been but being a soldier. Her father was a mercenary, and not even he had handled some of the weapons, she’d managed to glimpse on this man.

“I see,” Emaria murmured. She was about to say something else before a voice yelled over the crowd.

“Emaria!”

The half-fae girl winced and looked back toward the bar. Gail was standing there beside an apologetic-looking Valerie with her hands on her hips and an eyebrow arched. Shit, she’d been caught. “I guess I should go,” Emaria muttered, adding in a vulgar phrase under her breath. She slowly rose to her groundhands, but before she left the table, she leaned closer to the man and whispered, “Don’t leave without buying another drink first.”

Then, she made her way through the tavern patrons, preparing herself for the reaming out of a lifetime from Gail.