Private Tales Near the Edge Yet Already Falling

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Quacey

Knight-Shepherd of the Lost; Lord of Twin Home
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Character Biography
Link
Weep
Cry
Mourn
Life to Death
Death to Rebirth


Quacey sighed as he reread his most recent poem. Morbid. It was too morbid. Was he still shaken from before? Memories of that event still danced in and out of his dreams. Both the waking ones and those while asleep. So much had happened in such a short span. Emotions long held at bay had broken through. His will of stone turned into sand.

He shut his journal. That did not feel accurate to his poem. Not fully. In moments like these it was best to not thinking over it too much. Thoughts could lead to creativity and joy or they could be what reaped them away.

A fae village in the Autumn court near the border was where he currently found himself. Those sensations, those feelings, had brought him here. He had planted himself in the village's only inn and tavern and then they stopped. That didn't mean he was done with them. It only meant he was suppose to wait for reasons he might never know.

So the duanann just sat reading and listening to the locals chat amongst themselves or held a friendly conversation with the ones who approached him. They were glad of a guest to liven up things and he was glad they respected his privacy. How would he explain his presence to them in a believable fashion? They were unlikely to and just assume he was a spy from another court. That was a more plausible outcome than him being here because some ethereal force had told him to wait here for someone to come along or something to happen that would explain it.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
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She stared out the window of her carriage, admiring the natural beauty of the western parts...Trodai, was it? Yes, somewhere between there and The Spine. She rather enjoyed traveling, though mostly when she was able to leave the Autumn court. She was far enough away from Laigin, she hoped, to escape the rumors whispered from one to the other any time she left her home...Though they weren't really rumors if they were true, right?

Breathe. She reminded herself. She was only here for a few days. She was to pay her respects to some distant family member's funeral and leave. Forty five minutes seemed like plenty of time to say her hellos, leave a gift, and get out before they would comment on the whereabouts of her husband. He was dead before they even got a notice that she had been married.

"We're here." A voice called as the carriage slowed to a halt and the door was opened. A stout man helped her out. It was colder than it had been since the last time the carriage had stopped. Her mother was right to tell her to wear a cloak.

"Thank you." She paid the man before he grabbed her bags and began heading into the inn to bring them to her room. "I could use a proper meal. I'll be in the tavern if you need me." The pair went their separate ways, him up the staircase, and she entered the tavern. It was a little more run down than those in her city, but they were always her favorite places to visit. The food and conversation just seemed better anywhere outside of Laigin.

She pulled down her hood as she sat at a table, her blonde hair in a tight bun with a few stray hairs framing her face. She was beautiful in an almost scary way. The locals seemed to avoid her gaze as her red eyes scanned the room, lingering momentarily on a man with a book at the table beside hers, before someone came and took her order. Wine, soup and crusty bread. Simple, but delicious.
 
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Little changed in the tavern over the couple of days he had been there. Fae folk came and went about their days in their centuries long routines. They had gathered at the same times both days. Mostly the same conversations held both times, much of which involved speculating about his purpose in their tavern. A familiar pattern already formed for him that was very intimate for them.

But that changed. While Quacey was reading over some of his poems to judge them harshly, a new figure entered. A fae woman with red eyes. Hair and skin both pale white. She both fit in yet stood out amongst the crowd. Same as himself. She sat, studied the room with her gaze falling upon him longer than others, and then she ordered her food. Nothing unusual.

Nothing unusual until he felt that pull. The one that indicated the purpose for him staying here had arrived. This newcomer that was sat so near him was the lost person he was meant to aid.

But how could he approach her?

His mind drifted over to that lingering moment. She had noticed him and it was enough of an opening to likely allow him to engage her. Words would be the difficult part however. Telling her the complete truth of his approaching her would likely be counter productive, at least for now. He needed a more logical reason.

The book was closed. The fae picked up his pint of ale and joined the woman at her table. He sat across from her. His gaze meeting her own.

"Apologizes my lady for so boldly approaching you. I noticed you studying the room and could not help but see a hint of worry about you. If you like I may lend an ear. Or simply a brief distraction."

Quacey offered her a slight bow.

"You may call me Quacey, and it is a pleasure to greet you. I am at your service."

Ophelia Eärtári
 
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Her gaze moved back towards her table where her eyes locked onto the chipped wooden table while she waited for her food and drink. From the corner of her eye she saw his chair move, the stranger with the book was getting up and moving closer to her. Fantastic. Like a moth drawn to a flame.

She sighed as he sat down and began speaking. Her very presence in Laigin had become enough of a warning sign to stay away from her. "A hint of worry?" She raised an eyebrow at his comment. She didn't feel worried. Did she look worried? "Ophelia. Ophelia Eärtári." She extended a gloved hand, but pulled it away before they could shake. She wore the gloves to protect others, but the physical contact still made her wary enough to back out of it. He was only a stranger after all. No reason to risk his life over a simple handshake.

"If you must know, I'm here for a funeral. A great aunt or something." The waiter brought her wine and she took an abnormally large sip out of nervousness. She had been in public since her first husbands death, though very rarely and she never stopped for introductions with a stranger, though they always seemed drawn to her. "Perhaps I'm worried about what they may say about my life." She shrugged. "Or the questions they'll ask over rumors they've heard from where I live." Eager to change the subject, she looked back up at him. "What about you? Why are you here? You don't look like the locals, no offense."

Quacey
 
A hand was offered but pulled away before he could think of accepting it. He would have graced it with a kiss, as was the proper way to accept such an offer, but there was a hint of fear behind her action. As if it was extended out of instinct and then removed out of instinct yet again. Her words that followed only seemed to confirm for him that sense of some kind of fear.

She was here for a funeral, yet her concerned pointed more towards those rumors from back at her home. what sort of rumors could they be? The reason for her being lost was no doubt connected to them. If she feared it then her leaving made sense. No one wished to stay in a place and sense of oppression for long if they had a choice.

By the end she had shifted the subject to him. An attempt to redirect things. It was the social equivalent of a parry. Her's proved to be rather sloppy. If he wished to press the opening she had left him then he could easily force his way through.

But he had no desire to be forceful. Not yet. For now he would rather continue their little dance and duel to learn more about her and what it was he could do for her.

"A lovely name for a lovely woman." He smiled to her in a friendly, genuine way. "My thoughts go out to your family during this time of mourning. May your aunt rest peacefully."

He studied her over perhaps not as discreetly as he should have as he took a drink of his ale. His gaze was not lustful. It was more curious and purposeful. The kind of look one would have when attempting a riddle or puzzle. It only lasted until his mug was back on the table.

"To answer your questions, I arrived here with no intent. Wandered and simply found myself in this place. I decided to take a break and wait until it felt right to move on again."

All that he said was true. It might not be everything but it was all true.

He smiled to her once more.

"Lady Ophelia, do you enjoy games? Perhaps poetry or song?"

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"Thank you," Ophelia accepted his condolences. "I barely knew her, but figured it was the respectful thing to do." That and I lost a bet with my parents and was the one who got sent to travel for days in an uncomfortable carriage.

She noticed his eyes wandering over her, but paid little attention to it. Every man she met seemed to enjoy admiring her, although this one had a bit of a peculiar way of going about it. Odd, but at least he wasn't drooling on the table as she untied her cloak and laid it on the back of the chair, revealing a rather fancy black dress adorned with red roses and bronze details around the corset. It was definitely out of place in a dingy old tavern, but she would never sacrifice fashion for comfort.

"Ah...and how long have you been here, sir?" She made no attempt to call him by his name. Names were for friends and she did not allow herself to have such things. "To answer your question, yes, I quite enjoy games and poetry. Is that what you have in that little book of yours?" She pointed to the journal, taking another sip of wine. Smaller this time. She had nothing to fear in this stranger.

Quacey
 
The woman was still cautious and was doing much the same as him in not divulging information. Not unlike himself. It was a tactic more common in the nobility of the fae and based on her dress after she removed her cloak he had to guess that was what she was. Either that or her family happened to be unusually wealthy. Neither of which mattered to him as his task was not to form connections or find a wife or form an alliance.

Another question followed by a sip this time instead of a swallow of her wine then her answer. Keeping the conversation of trading questions seemed like a worthwhile venture. And it was an opening for him to make a suggestion to perhaps get her to calm her nerves enough to open up more. Divulge more of what was going unsaid from her.

"This would be the third day I have been in this place. I imagine I will be leaving soon however. Not as if there is a task keeping me here."

Not any longer.

Quacey set his journal down on the table and gently slide it over towards her. What she would find inside was many works of poetry ranging in style and content. Little uniformity could be seen. The newest poem being the one he had been reviewing before she entered.

"You may read my works if you wish. Perhaps chat about it a bit."

He took another drink of his mug not stopping until it was emptied. Then he politely waved over the serving girl and ordered another. Payment was placed in her hand along with a modest tip. Before she could leave he gave the girl a smile.

"If you would do me a favor and bring me some dice I would appreciate it."

A nod was given and then she was off. He turned his attention back to his rather macabre companion. A smile was given to her and nothing else.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"The third day here, but where are you from?" She continued with her questions. He didn't look noble or wealthy, but he also didn't look like one of the local lower class fae from the area. Perhaps he was a spy from another court, but what business did he have with her? She held no information on anyone in her court. She was barely a stranger amongst the nobles, though everyone knew of her. Perhaps another court caught wind of her rather awful reputation and were seeking out a bride for someone they disliked, a ticking time bomb to kill the poor fool.

She looked down at the journal, carefully inspecting it before picking it up and flipping through a few of the poems. "You wrote these? They read as though they were written by multiple people from different walks of life." She commented after a few minutes, turning to the newest and pausing. It was morbid, yet strangely relatable...almost as though he had written it for her. Maybe he was a psychic or he did really know of her story. Or perhaps it was an odd coincidence.

A coincidence she couldn't ignore. "What inspired this one?" The gloved finger pointed out his newest work. "It's a bit dreary compared to the rest, don't you think?"

She held her glass up for the serving girl as he ordered another, giving nothing more than a nod before downing the last bit of the red wine. She grimaced as it went down, her sad features breaking momentarily. Cheap shit. She would make a note to bring her own drinks next time she left her home.

"Oh dice?" The corners of her mouth twitched into a soft smile. "I'll have you know I very much enjoy games, but I'm rather unlucky. I don't think I've ever honestly won one. If you're here to steal my riches, this is probably the easiest way to go about it."

Quacey
 
"I live in the Spine far away from others. I do travel often. No purpose outside of going where my feet happen to take me. My poetry is inspired by by journeys."

This was the point that she no doubt believed him to be spy or rogue of some kind. Many fae traveled about but few left the bounds of their court. Some could be rather hostile to outsiders even if some were purely just cautious. Depended on the temper of the rulers. Night court was particularly hostile towards outsiders, especially women.

As the serving girl arrived, she dropped off his ale along with another glass of wine for the lady. A rather large set of dice was placed upon the table. Excellent. They could play many games with this many dice. And from what the woman had said it sounded as if she would willingly go for what he had in mind.

Quacey took a drink of his new pint of ale.

"I could not say. I wrote what came to me with that one and that is how it turned out. Never easy to know what inspired a work, even for the author."

The fae picked up some of the dice and began to roll them around in his hand. The sound of bone rustling against bone could be heard. They did not feel loaded so would offer a fair game. Winning was not the goal after all. It was just the means by which he hoped to press their conversation forward.

"How about we test your luck with some wagers then? Nothing indecent such as removal of clothing or betting sums of wealth. Not unless you desire to gamble those away. How about the loser must drink until the winner tells them to stop or they run out of drink? A bit of extra entertainment and an excuse to continue sharing your lovely company."

Quacey smiled to her as he leaned back in his seat a bit.

"What do you say my Lady? Do we have a deal?"

He reached out his hand towards her. With the free one he took another drink.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"The Spine? Huh...I've never been there." She paused, deciding to give him a little information on her background. "I'm from quite a bit east in a city called Laigin. Perhaps you've heard of it. It is one of the main cities after all." A bit of her snobby tone came out as she spoke. "So is this what you do for a living? Travel and write poetry? Seems like you'd spend more money traveling than you'd make if I'm being honest."

Ophelia didn't drink. It had been well over five hundred years since she had touched a glass of wine. Back in her days where she hopped from man to man that her parents set her up with. It was the only way for her to try to socialize after her first husband's death. Still, she began to sip the second glass the moment the girl handed it to her.

She watched him toss around the dice. "I suppose it must be an artist thing. I guess I couldn't begin to understand how you come from such nice poetry to those morbid thoughts."

Her ears perked up as he began to explain the game. It seemed simple enough, just win and he drinks. Eventually she will be able to get out his true reasoning for being in another court's territory. "I think..." she grabbed the dice to ensure he wasn't going to cheat before tossing them back onto the table. "We have a deal, but you go first!" She hesitantly reached forward with the gloved hand, shaking it before quickly snapping it back towards her.
 
The large fae picked up six of the dice for himself and moved the other set of six across the table for her to use. He said as he began to shake the dice around in his hand already, "The game is matching same numbers on the dice. The more of single number or sets of numbers you have the better your hand. The higher the number the better, so if you roll four 2s and I roll four 3s I would win. Six of a kind is only beaten by rolling one of each number."

He gave her a smile. A sip of his ale followed as he let the rules sink in and as a bit of playful taunting. Make it as casual as he could. Then he set his mug on the table with a louder clank.

"Understand? Good. I will roll first but there is no need to take turns. Only compare our rolls."

The dice were let loose finally and landed on a 4 then three 2s and two 3s. He picked up the 4 and rolled again getting a 1. "Pair of 3s and three 2s."

The fae watched as her very first roll came out as a very hard choice. One of each except instead of a 4 she had two 3s. He watched her face to see what she would do. Her comments about her luck were rather accurate so far. Then she went for it. She picked up one of the 3s and rolled it.... A 2. She had lost.

Quacey would just smirk to her. Should he be merciful or merciless to her?

He held off on answering until her glass was empty. Then he picked up his dice and rolled again.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"Fuck." Ophelia muttered, watching her second roll. "Told you, I'm unlucky." She picked up her glass and placed it to her lips, the smell of the cheap wine was rather off-putting, but nevertheless she tipped her head back and waited. And waited. Her eyes opened, locking with his as an attempt to get mercy from the man, but no such thing happened. "Ahh..." She shuddered once again at the terrible taste, slamming the empty glass down on the table.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) the server was back, likely enjoying the show and money she was going to be receiving from them as they played. "Ale." She demanded, tossing coins her way. Couldn't be worse than the shit they're trying to pass off as wine. She thought as they threw their second toss of the dice. She watched his roll, knowing she would likely lose again. Two pairs, 1s and 5s.

Then she looked down to her own throw. Four 2s, a 4, and a 1. She scooped up the 4 and 1 and rerolled. "Five 2s...that's better than two pairs." A sly smile took over her natural pouty look. "Drink up, I'll buy the next one." She tossed more coins at the server and pointed to his cup. Before turning back to him and watching him suffer as she had.

Quacey
 
The fae was rightfully punished during their next roll by losing. He just smiled to her as he put his mug up to his lips and downed the whole thing quickly. Even before her words he knew what she was going to make him do. A punishment fitting of his crime.

The serving girl brought them both back fresh pints of ale. Her and the owner all too happy to let them play their game. So he took his dice and began to shake them. He hoped for luck and what he ended up with was.... Not great. All he got from both his rolls was three 1s. The rest did not match. Yet luck seemed to favor her. Her own first roll was nearly the same as his own with her having three 1s. They may tie. But her second roll granted her a pair of 3s and his lose.

"I think you undersold your luck my Lady. To you."

Quacey raised his mug to her with a smile then began to drink. Only she could tell him when to stop and when it was time for him to roll again.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
Her smile grew as he lost again. Perhaps luck was on her side for once in her life. Only took a few thousand years for something to go right. "Perhaps I have." She agreed, letting him drink the majority of his drink before she let him stop. "Next roll." She tossed the dice. 1,1,2,3,4,6. She only needed the 5. She prayed her lucky streak would continue as she rerolled one of the 1s. another 4.

"One pair." She grumbled, looking over to his dice. Three pairs? She huffed. "I hate you." She placed the mug to her lips, inhaling its equally horrid scent before she began to drink, waiting for him to stop her.

Quacey
 
Most of his pint this time, but not all. She was showing him mercy. Had the advantage gone to her head already? He hoped so. Drunk off power or off wine or ale. He did not care so long as she was drunk and her lips loosened.

But it was her turn for punishment. He rolled something respectable once more. She once more rolled all but one for a straight. The lack of a 5 was too tempting for her as she went for it and failed. A grumble and then a huff. Seemed she hated him now.

He just smiled as she drank the whole pint. No mercy for this game. It was a battlefield and honor would be grabbing every advantage the dice allowed. So he picked up his dice and rolled his next hand.

He was granted by the end of both his rolls three 5s and a pair of 4s. A respectable hand. Perhaps luck was back in his favor? And after her roll he had to assume it was less luck and more their drinks. She rolled a pair of 5s and 2s with a 6 and 3. It was close. She might have it.... Then she picked up one of her 2s along with the 6 and 3 and rolled.... And she lost. She only got a pair of 6s to go with her pair of 5s. Not enough to beat him.

Mercy was meant to be lacking. He was suppose to be merciless.... He let her stop drinking after only two small sips worth. With that dice were back in hand and he rolled yet again. Hopefully he would not be punished for this show of mercy....

Ophelia Eärtári
 
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The drinks had started to make her feel funny. Warm. It was nice. She didn't feel drunk, but it was quickly approaching after a long stretch of sobriety. A whole pint followed by two small sips of her next. She slammed the mug a little too loudly on the wooden table. "That's fucking gross." She coughed at the foul taste. "But...like...good? Could go for another to be honest." She giggled, grabbing the dice and rolling them.

She felt like she was swaying in her chair as she watched them stop. He had already finished his roll. A pair of 5s. She picked up two of the 2s, trying once again for the straight. "Come on!" She whispered loudly. "TWO PAIRS!" She shouted, slamming her palms on the table. If anyone had assumed she was a noblewoman, they would likely abandon that thought as she knocked her mug off the table and onto the floor, laughing like a child. "Drink up." She demanded, making no attempt to stop him this time as she waved over another round.
 
Luck had abandoned him for his act of mercy. He picked up his mug and downed the thing as she never showed it back in kind. Seemed he was going to have to punish her every time she lost now. It was the principle of her mundane and nonexistent betrayal needing to be punished.

Her mug went off the table as the early signs of the drink getting to her were showing. It was even starting to hit him as well. That lack of mercy thoughts the first signs of him becoming tipsy along with some redness of his skin. The waitress rushed over and was trying to quickly clean it up off the floor before an accident took place. Their next round was going to be delayed.

Quacey took the moment to have a bit of a conversation. "Ale does take some time to get use to. But once your tongue adjusts to the bitterness it can be rather delightful."

He looked at her and eyed her over once more. What was this woman's issue? So far she just seemed like a noble woman in need of some cheer. Perhaps one who was not as free as she might wish. If she did need freedom then the Spring Court might be a good place for her. That was one of its most important tenants along with life.

"I hope you are enjoying yourself and wish to continue. I personally am not done making you drink yet."

Then the fae smirked at her playfully. In honesty they both had drank nearly the same amount so far. A fair game meant for fun not gains.

The waitress had the mess cleaned and returned with their next round of drinks. She eyed Ophelia a bit judging just how far into the drink the woman was as she left.

Quacey picked up his dice and rolled. Time to see where this game took them.

Where it took them was three 6s for him and a pair of 5s while she barely managed to get three 5s. It would seem it was her turn to drink again and he was showing her no mercy. He only smiled to her and waited until she had drunk all her ale away.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"Can it really be delightful?" She chuckled. "The wine here tastes like vinegar. The ale, like piss. I couldn't imagine how commoners drink this aaand enjoy it." She had began to slur her words as she spoke, but would deny any accusations that she was anything less than sober. "I mean the wine out east is delightful...from what I remember. OH! What court are you from? I presume you're from a court, right?" She watched the server cleaning up the mess as she spoke.

"Oh yes...I am having an enjoyable evening in your company Mr. Tracey...no...Grace-y? Quacey..." She shrugged and grabbed the mug, no longer upset at her losing streak. "Are you enjoying yourself? Are you hungry? Let me get your something to eat!" She managed to get the words out before placing the mug up to her mouth once again and gulp it all down.

"NEXT ROUND!" She threw the dice a little too hard, one landing on the floor. "I'll just go ahead and reroll it." She said, standing up and stumbling over a few feet to grab it. "Got it!" She rolled it again and looked at their dice to compare. She won with four 6s. "HA! Drink drink drink!" She chanted, pushing the freshly filled mug into his hands.

Quacey
 
"Quacey and the court I am associated with is the Spring. I know King Nairth San'Seya as we were boys together. My duties are to the fae as a whole, but I am more willing to aid my friend than other rulers of our kind. I live in territory claimed by the Winter court, as I mentioned before, and my mother was originally from the Summer court. Complicated but I hope is proof enough to know I am not here for any ulterior motives such as spying. Not that a spy could hope to get much information on the inner workings of the Autumn court from this far western village."

He had spoken a bit more than he intended, but it was not about anything he would not have shared anyways. It might encourage her to speak more if he was willing to be honest after all. So he just watched her down her mug between speaking to him again. Many questions came up during it and then came the rolls. As he waited on the results he figured he could speak more.

"Indeed I am. The company is lovely and entertaining. Not often a woman as beautiful as you can be both."

Quacey smiled to her then as he paused. A bit flirty this time around even if still playful. Perhaps the drink was making him a tad more relaxed than he first thought.

"Food would be wise for the both of us. Fat filled meat and dairy. Rich bread. No plants. Only nuts."

That would hopefully help draw some of the alcohol from their system. Always did the trick when he needed to sober himself or someone else up a bit while traveling.

Then the dice flew and he lost. He downed his drink and requested another. Before his companion had time to continue with her next little tipsy or drunken action he rolled his dice again. By the end he had three 4s and a pair of 6s. A respectable roll once more. And her outcome was.... a pair of 2s. She went for that straight yet again.

Was she aiming to get herself drunk?

He did not bother trying to stop her and let her drink her whole mug. By now it was established and she would likely do it no matter when he told her to stop. The best he could hope for was she would begin to tell him about herself when he asked.

"Ophelia, you don't mind if I just use your first name?" He paused so she could answer or not. It was up to her. "Tell me about yourself. You mentioned your aunt's funeral but was that all that brings you out here? Or is there more to your story?"

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"OH you know a King! That's so wonderful!" She was beaming as she spoke. "I must have met the king here when I was young, but just between you and me...and you...I can't even recall his name right now. My family used to go to parties with the nobles here before my mai..." She stopped speaking abruptly. "Anyway I'm so happy you aren't a spy if it is me you're after because I don't really have anything worth knowing to be honest." Her last words were a super-not-subtle-at-all whisper.

She set the cup down, her skin blushing as she figured he was complimenting her. "Oh thank you Mace-y, but its really not a good idea to be flirting with me." She burped, immediately following it up with laughter. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! Where is the damn server anyway? I swear I ordered food!"

She threw her next dice as he questioned her. "Hmm? No it is fine, you can call me Ophelia." Four 6s! Or were those 9s? Are there 9s on a six-sided dice? Maybe. Regardless, it was a good number. She looked at him as he rerolled for a straight and lost again, motioning for him to drink up. "What do you want to know about me?" She cocked her head to the side, raising an eyebrow. "I am here for a funeral. It wasn't my choice though. Lost a bet with my parents. Loser had to represent our family. I told you I had bad luck, did I not?" She picked up her mug, drinking it as though she had lost, only getting halfway through before setting it down. "I like traveling, to be honest. I mean its not comfortable or anything, but getting away from Laigin is always nice. People there..." She wasn't sure how to put it. "I think they're scared of me."

Quacey
 
He drank and he listened and he watched. She had become rather talkative as well as had forgotten he was the one who had lost as well as the fact she never actually ordered food. Seems he was going to need to get a bit of control over their food situation or she would end up throwing up, badly hungover, and regretting the time they spent together rolling dice.

So when the server returned, he stopped her and quietly ordered them food as his companion was speaking about how people seemed to be scared of her. After the server left, in a bit of a hurry, he turned his face back towards Ophelia. Not that his attention had ever truly left her the entire time. She was rather hard to ignore right now.

"Our food will be here soon." He smiled to her. "It may not be a good idea to flirt with you but how could I resist such an interesting woman?"

He picked up his dice and rolled again.

"My hope is that by the time we part you consider having to come out here and meeting me as winning that bet rather than losing it."

His dice was nearly a straight only with a pair of 5s instead of a 6. He rolled one of them again only for it to land right back on the 5 it was before. So a pair of 5s it was. Her luck was the same yet slightly worse. She started with a near straight, aimed for it, and went from a pair of 3s to a pair of 4s. An upgrade but not the one she wanted.

So he would let her drink her pint, or what was left of it.

"Why do you believe they fear you? All I see is a beautiful woman who is rather pleasant company once she relaxes."

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"Oh believe me, I've heard that one before." She rolled her eyes. "Actually no, not interesting. I don't think anyone's called me that. Beautiful, yes. Interesting no." She commented, rolling her dice.

"To be honest, if I keep drinking I might not make it to the funeral which is fine by me. I barely knew the lady. She didn't even come to my wedding. Can you believe the audacity to invite me to your funeral after skipping out on something like that?!" She had no idea she was sharing more than she intended, but continued after his other questions. "Nonono. Maybe they aren't scared of me. They dislike me...a lot. I knew some of their sons. God rest their souls."

She chugged the rest of her drink, shaking it in the air for the server to come back, who at this point had a very clear look of disapproval. She leaned over, "I must be cursed or something. That's why I am telling you to stay away. You seem like a nice young man, but I have been...associated...with a lot of deaths. Like a dozen or so at least. That's why the women of the court don't like me. They kept trying to arrange courtships with other noble families and one by one, the suitors just...dropped. I told you I'm very unlucky right?" She stopped her comments there, never mentioning the last person she was with or the child that almost was.

Looking down at the dice "fuck." She frowned. Pair of 5s on her end, three 4s on his. He won. "I need another drink." She looked at the server who only shook her head as if to say she had too many. Okay lady. No problem. She grabbed Quacey's drink and downed it before he could stop her. "Okay enough about me, tell me more about you. How did you end up from one court to the next? Are you sure you aren't a spy?" She faked a suspicious look as she looked him over.

Quacey
 
Quacey was able to piece together the hints littered throughout what Ophelia told him. The issue for her was not the death of her aunt but rather the death of her husband. She had been married but he had past away. Otherwise she would not be here alone in such a state. And even if he was alive the lack of his presence meant things were not well between them. That was what he needed to focus on helping her through it seemed.

The rolls turned up in his favor this time around and the woman went looking for her drink as she had lost. But instead she was cut off by the server and owner most likely. This caused her to steal his drink instead and down it.

Quacey subtly got all the dice gathered together as he answered Ophelia. "Curses do not frighten me. I have dealt with many. And I am no young man. No young man would have the amount of experience I happen to have."

A bit of a brag but an honest one. He had seen much and was likely twice this woman's age. Good to know he still retained his youthful vigor.

"I have only been a part of the Spring court. I just simply do not believe in the boundaries between the courts. I go where I am needed and do not let imaginary lines drawn on maps deter me. I help people. It is what I do and why I have experience with curses. I am a poet-knight. I write and a I help. It is what I do. And they are things I would be happy to do for you."

Once more a bit of a brag if honest. The game needed to be ended. She was too deep into her drink by now to continue and it had achieved his goal of getting her to relax enough to speak with him openly. So he paid the server when she came over for both of their tabs and handed over the dice. An action that brought some relief to the serving girl and the owner both.

His attention went back to Ophelia. He smiled to her and leaned back into his seat. Things were proving to be pleasant now. Too bad it never stayed that way.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"I wouldn't be so sure you're safe from my curse...whatever it is." She sighed, looking for the dice only to find all of them gone. "I am unlucky for anyone close to me. Everyone I've ever loved has died." Her words were somber, but through her slurred speech still seemed like a joke.

"What is the spring court like then? Is it nice there?" She yawned. "Tell me about the king and all the other people. Are they nice as well? And how do you help people with poetry?" She had looked frustrated momentarily before another yawn escaped her lips.

Her train of thought derailed as soon as the yawn came out. "I think....perhaps I should get in bed. I have the...thing...funeral...aunt...morning...." She stood up, wobbling back and forth for a few minutes before making her way to the hallway the connected the inn and tavern, bumping into the walls as she did so. If he was watching, he would witness her step up three stairs, her body leaning backwards as her legs tried to go forward before she came crashing back down, a giggling pile on the floor.

Quacey
 
Quacey was slow to help Ophelia as she began to stumble her way to the stairs. A discussion over the food that he had ordered yet wasn't delivered yet he still owed for for some reason was being had. Her words still being noted as she spoke despite all the distractions.

Once he heard the crash to the floor, he just handed over the payment for the food and quickly headed over to where she was. The woman was just giggling on the floor as if all of it was comical. It was but only because she seemed to be unharmed. Letting her be was looking to be a danger to her and others.

So the fae scooped her up off the floor and held her like a princess in his arms. He looked at her and smiled, hoping she stayed calm.

"Which room is your's Ophelia? I will carry you to your bed."

By the Twins he hoped she didn't struggle. He wasn't drunk enough to be off balance, or at least didn't think he was, but he didn't want to test it too much.

"I do not help people with poems. I help them by doing things like this. Poetry is for me and any who find it enjoyable. As for the Spring Court, we are nice there. Life and freedom. That is what we believe in and so we do not hold ourselves back."

As soon as Quacey was informed of which room he was to take her to he would begin to head there. Caution was upheld the whole way to avoid her hitting her head or her limbs. This meant he had to hold her tight and near his face many times along the way. All he could do was pray she forgave him for forcing the closeness upon her.

Ophelia Eärtári