[Blessed Isle] Fiddle and burn.

Being recalled to the Blessed Isle had been a mixed blessing for Tepet Nischa. On one hand, she greatly enjoyed being close enough to her enemies and rivals to be able to have her highly trained Vermillion soldiers sneering at their troops. On the other, it meant she got called in for things like parties. Nischa had been shown the basics of interacting at a party when she was younger - how not to make a scene, how to dance when asked, the appropriate times to laugh - but she'd spent most of the last decade of her life in armor, on the battlefield. This was not exactly comfortable for her.

Or for Muzao, beside her. The heavily-scarred man who served as Nischa's lieutenant had somehow kept himself from openly sneering at the opulence at the front gate. "I don't see how you're planning on tolerating this nonsense, ma'am." The broad man snorted back some foul material caught in his sinuses, and was only stopped from decorating the expensive lawn of the Cynis party manse by a quick glare from his superior officer.

"Trust me, I don't like it either. Waste of time, if you asked me." The woman sighed and shook her head, straightening out her hair beneath the silly contraption of a headdress she'd been encouraged to wear. "But my aunt was right. We need the influence. Using up all of our connections just to refill our ranks is not helping us in the long run." The stunning Dragon-Blooded woman straightened her dress, cut high up her right thigh to let one muscular leg peek out with every step. Even if she wasn't normally one for fancy parties she was certainly one to impress. "So, I have your orders, should you choose to accept your duty to the Realm."

Beside her and in a simple yet classy suit of silk and embroidery, Muzao struck a salute. "Ma'am." What would it be this time? Fight though the fires of hell? Stare down the dead men of Thorns? Tear out a cannibal's throat and choke his allies to death with it? Whatever it was, he would follow his captain through fire and flames (many of them of her own creation).

Rather unexpectedly, when she turned around, Nischa had a grin on her lips. "Go find something strong to drink and a curvy woman to spend the evening with. This is a party, Lieutenant. I expect you to have fun." Fire did nothing half-assed. In war, in love...consume all that you do as a mighty conflagration. Feel deeply. Act fully. Pour yourself into the moment. Tepet Nischa fully intended to enjoy herself more completely than she ever had before, and she wasn't going to let a silly thing like her paranoid old companion change that.

Turning from Muzao, the redhead flipped her perfect hair over her back and strutted in, heels clicking dramatically on the stone and jade of the walkway. For a woman normally found in boots and plate, she managed to pull off "breathtaking" quite well indeed. Make your entrance, young dragon. Burn brightly.

It was already a night to remember, in Kerbim's opinion - which doubtlessly meant that most wouldn't remember it. Most of his entourage had peeled away by the allure of sleep or to chase more curvaceous company.That was fine, too! Fun was for the moment, looking back was simply a privilege or happy consequence.

Speaking of happy looking backs, a fiery young woman in a fiery red dress strut by in heels - the very picture of the Scarlet Empress' Realm, a gorgeous woman who was equal part soldier and general, a woman who knew that in battle and at court, you set the tone of the space around you unless you wanted to be subjected to what others wanted. AND she was pretty to look at.

Natural poet, Kerbim thought to himself. Perhaps he'd write this down someday.

His reflection was interrupted by an approach - from the looks of him, a man who was as successful in business as he was unsuccessful at shaving. An air of confidence, and the hint of decent breeding about him... and a boldness besides, to approach a relative stranger - a well-bred Wood child ruminating at a house Cynis party of all places. Kerbim swiftly decided he liked the man.

"Hello! Lovely, lovely party, isn't it?" Kerbim greeted his new friend jovially, as though they'd been acquaintances for years and were at long last able to get to know one another. Affable, friendly, and just so gosh-danged pleased to make your aquaintance! "And quite the evening besides, keen observation!"

"Tell me, my friend - Do you know who that yonder beauty is?" Kerbim asked his new best buddy in a hushed tone, offering a conspirator's playful grin as he motioned to the woman in red lighting up the courtyard. "Tepet Nischa - a comet blazing in from abroad. It's said that she only visits the Blessed Isle once every two years at the most... would you like me to introduce you?" He insinuated.

Why? Why not. Kerbim wasn't sure why, but it never hurt to have people like you, especially when they looked wealthy, and playing wingman was a good way to get liked.

Nischa was either unaware of the conversation happening about her or unperturbed by it. Instead of worrying about what others thought of a woman being all too forward with herself, she found her way to one of what had to be a dozen bars in the Cynis courtyard and manse extremities. It was a manse, so she wasn't at all surprised that even exterior buildings like these were opulent to the point of excess. Hopefully their alcohol was, as well.

The bar in question seemed to have been hewn from some exotic and well-treated form of dark wood, and it still held some of its original smell...no-doubt due to the environment's Wood-Essence atmosphere. Tepet Nischa sat down on one of the stools nearby and dropped a couple of bits on the counter, her subtle glow and radiant beauty being enough to attract the bartender's attention immediately. "The strongest bottle you've got. I don't care what flavor it is."

The man nodded silently and brought out a very pale bottle of liquid that seemed to bubble beneath its own cork, and Nischa took it without a word of thanks and immediately downed a few fingers, straight from the top. Only after she was finished did the mortal behind the bar risk speaking to her. "I've never seen someone look quite so out of place at one of these parties while fitting in perfectly. What's your secret, milady?"

After a few moments of deep breaths while her system absorbed the sharp rice-wine, she looked up and smirked at the bearded, somewhat round man, resting her elbow on the counter and her chin atop one palm. "When you see the legions marching in the streets, or standing guard at a manse, you're seeing what we're trained to do. An implacable wall of steel between danger and innocents. But when we're off-duty?" She held up the bottle and shook it indicatively. "The only change I had to make for this stuck-up mess was putting on something pretty."

The man gave a great-bellied guffaw and wiped the counter beside her. "Well said, milady. Well said."

Tepet Nischa V'Neef Kerbim


Chu'nan let his smirk slow down to a medium simmer of snarky cheer. Meeting new people was always fun. He approached with a slightly raised eyebrow. He didn't really confirm or deny the line about bedding her--whether or not that was courtly etiquette or coyness holding him back was hard to determine. He smiled and chuckled. "Don't seel yourself short, there's wisdom to be found even in the most mirthful of tales," he said with a nod. He felt this man was deepr than he looked, but enjoyed the part of the fool. Or, he was just a very gifted fool. Regardless, V'neef was a house of luxury--that could be a grand ally to a merchant looking to make a new currency.


Speaking in the sort of mellow, half-swirling tone that was a mix of a drunk sailor and a mildly teasing wastrel. "And this is V'neef Kebrim," he said to red-haired woman, gesturing to the man beside him. "Would you allow me to buy us all a round?" He smirked, adjusted his hat slightly as he gave a slight bow and nodded. For all his finery, his walk and stance were more working class, even if he dressed and talked like a noble scion, part of him was always still a dock-worker and sailor at heart. 



He smiled as he set a few bits on the counter. "A bottle of something local and spiced," he said with a smirk. "Are there any preferences the two of you might have?"