Today Was Not The Day

[Khy Marah]

Vortas 27th, 2718
PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR

"Oh no, no wait! Oh clocks!” The red haired galdor took the steps of the Vienda Public two at a time, reaching the doors just as they were being locked shut. Through the small peephole of glass on the other side, the librarian shook his head, frowning at her through thick wireframe glasses and waving a pocket watch at her. Khymarah sighed heavily, her shoulders drooping with defeat. She’d have been on time, had the day just gone a little bit more smoothly. Unfortunately it was like a series of comical events that were out to get her.

First, she had woken to the most awful smell, discovering that Ariana had all but emptied her stomach on the bedspread with what appeared to be actual paint. After this had been cleaned up by Florence, her house passive, the galdor had returned to her studio to continue the piece she had been working on all week. A beautiful portrait of a young man and his banderpup, only she had entered to find the canvas scratched through. It appeared that her dear osta had taken it upon herself to use the canvas as a hop-up to the curtain railing overnight, and in turn her claws had gouged streaks into the youth’s oil painted face. Of course she could fix it, but feeling flustered and annoyed, the young woman had gathered her things and decided she would take a winter stroll by the Avora River. But noooo, nothing could be that easy. Upon getting to the river, Khymarah took a few steps, and proceeded to slip in the black ice by the bank, gasping with shock as she slid down the muddied side and into the waters edge. Cold and muddy, the Bastian had trudged her way back home to change her outfit, by this time it just wasn’t worth the effort.

An afternoon at the library, that’s what she could do. Dressed in her black winter cloak and a red beaded lace winter dress, the young artist made her way towards the Vienda Public Library. Only, she hadn’t bothered to check the time, and as she crossed Uptown Court she could see the phosphor lanterns beginning to dim. Grasping her skirt in her hands, she sprinted in burgundy boots across the cobblestones and well…

And here she was.

“Bells and chimes!” She snapped, stomping her foot and closing her eyes to take a few deep breaths, her ramscott field pulsing with frustration.

Even if you had made it through the doors in time, what did you think you were going to achieve. Call it a day and go back to bed Khy..

Walking back down the steps, her scarlet curls loose around her face, the Bastian wandered aimlessly for a moment before stopping. What exactly did she have to go home to? An unwell osta, a ruined portrait and a very empty home?

Well when you put it like that…

Lifting her emerald-sapphire gaze, the straight laced young woman’s eyes fell on a sign post that held a curious pointer in the direction of Crosstown Court. It was a catlike beast of somekind, snarling and holding its paw to point the passerby to something enticing further ahead. Following the mystery sign-cat’s directions, Khymarah walked along the street lined with evergreen bushes in quaint pots and delightfully pleasant shopfronts. Delightfully shut shopfronts.

“At least in Bastia the shops are open till at least the twenty seventh hour.” She snidely remarked to not a soul, looking down her nose at the closed storefronts, as thought they could hear her snarky words. Slowing towards the end of the quiet, quaint street, she discovered a side ally with the tiger painted now on the brick work wall. Letting herself wander a bit further, the red head discovered an very plain looking doorway, and hanging over it was a sign lettered in a rough hewn handwriting.

The Paper Tiger.

Frowning, the scarlet galdor pushed the door open and stepped inside, her eyes widening in surprise. The interior of the establishment appeared to be a bar or some sort of upper class tavern. The inside was made of cherry wood and rich mahogany, giving off a warm sense of cosy welcome for the right people. Stained glass windows and phosphor lamps filled the room with warm, golden light, illuminating luxurious armchairs and ottomans, polished coffee tables and a long marble-top bar, complete with plush red barstools. Behind the bar, a cabinet full of delicate crystal classes, bottles of bourbon and rum and whiskey, and all sorts of mixing equipment just waited for the patrons to approach and order a beverage. A soft lifting instrumental number is emanated from a phonograph on one end of the bar, and the air smelt pleasantly of tobacco and cologne.

“Well then. When in Anaxas I suppose…” The woman said to herself quietly, removing her cloak which was prompted taken from her by a tall thin steward. Nodding, the young woman made her way self consciously to the bar, sliding onto one of the plush red stools and looking over the overwhelming selection in the cabinet. A handsome galdor with deep black hair and a thin moustache moved towards her from behind the bartop, smiling a welcome and gesturing to the beverages.

“Would madame care for a drink?” Khymarah blushed ridiculously, glancing down and shaking her head.

“Oh, no I don’t know. I just came in by accident. I probably shouldn’t.” The keep scoffed, reaching for a bottle of first light.

“Nonsense. Archibald knows what a lovely lady like yourself needs. How about a small glass of First Light? It’s very floral and light, as not to upset such a delicate little woman.” The whiskey tycoons daughter lifted her eyes slowly, narrowing her eyes for a moment. Delicate little woman? Sure, she was not the most boisterous galdori out there, but the red head did not need to be spoken down to by a man clearly more into himself than anything else.

“You know what, I will have a drink, but get me a double of Rodriguez Fireball whisky. Straight.” Archibald raised an eyebrow, placing the First Light back on the shelf and grabbing a highball crystal glass.

“That’s a bit strong my dear, are you sure that’s best?” Khymarah balked, blinking in surprise, her cheeks darkening a little more. He clearly didnt take her seriously, Alioe she wasn’t even sure she took herself seriously. Tired and a little too done with the day, the young woman began to doubt herself. Maybe she should just go, this was getting embarrassing.

“I…well I…”

[Drezda Ecks]

Vortas 27, 2718 | Paper Tiger | 24th Hour

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The Paper Tiger was exclusive. If she had happened upon it without foreknowledge, she would have avoided it based on its external appearance but she'd been told about the place and what it truly was. It wasn't somewhere that Drezda frequented often but she did enjoy its atmosphere, the fact that it wasn't filled with riff-raff. You wouldn't find humans or wicks in here, wouldn't find the lower class galdori. It was just... nice.

The feel of the impending winter could be felt tonight, the temperatures creeping down towards freezing now that the sun had set. It should have been something that the Hoxian could handle but damn if Anaxas weather wasn’t making her soft! She found the cold harder to handle now, the heat when it came almost bearable sometimes and she had to wonder how she’d allowed herself to reach this point. Her brisk walk had warmed her up some but it was only really enough to take the edge off and the winds that came through the streets, flying around corners could be surprisingly bitter. The cosy interior of the bar was just what she needed.

As much as Rosmilda was... more than she should have been to the galdor, Drezda could not subsist in her company alone. It was odd but while she wasn’t necessarily interested in conversation, there was something comforting about being in the presence of other fields. Sometimes, she needed other galdori to be close by and while there were political places she could have spent many an evening, sometimes she needed the sanity of being free from Anaxi political garbage. Truth be told, Drezda often loathed the lot of them with their stupid Brunnhold and their ridiculous numbers of wicks and the humans who could own businesses in areas that she might actually walk through. Still, if she was out socialising here, she had to be wary because her face could be memorable enough in this place, her behaviour passed on. It was why the passives were safe company but also tedious. Was it any wonder that she became weak after being in their presence for so long and for so much of her time? Was it really that surprising that she had been driven to want Rosmilda? To kiss, to touch and more? Certainly, the idea of it repelled her but also... she wasn’t a human or a wick, it wasn’t as bad as it could be and it wasn’t like they would produce some demonic spawn. But no matter how many times she tried to tell herself that the passive girl was practically a golly, she knew in her heart that it was wrong.

But damnit, she couldn’t have galdori women either! It was too easy to have her reputation slip into the mire, so easy to overstep and send a woman off telling tales about her and her inclinations. It was politically damaging and so she had to refrain. Galdori women could be looked at but not touched, flirted with ever so carefully but even then it was risky. At least, she could console herself with the fact that many of the women around here appeared to be related to carrots, viewing such orange-red hair as unattractive, especially when it wasn’t on their heads...

Rosmilda’s hair was darker though, true red and brown hues mixed in to form a richer and deeper red. That sort of hair she could definitely live with.

In truth, it was set to be something of a miserable evening that the woman expected to basically spend alone, perhaps pining over some beauty across the room but doing her best to make sure that her field didn’t betray her as she did so. The walls couldn’t come down, she couldn’t risk it.

However, she could look good. Perhaps it was a little much considering the sort of evening that she had in mind but she felt that her dress would fit with her destination. A Hoxian-style dress, one of her favourites, was wrapped around her form. Red silk clung to her form, intricate, curving black patterns accentuating her natural shape. It was tight over her small chest, rising to an almost choking collar and falling to a point just above her knee. Her arms were practically bare, a furred Hoxian cloak the only thing that stopped her ivory limbs from turning blue. Her hair was bundled up towards the back of her head, decorative spikes crossing through it that held it in place. It brought out her bone structure and exotic features more sharply, something aided by thin winged tips of dark make-up at the corner of her eyes, a bare dusting of dark brown powder tracing her cheekbones. Together with the outfit, it gave an impression of rigid strength, at least in Drezda’s view. Technically impractical though it might be, especially given the way it constricted her gait, the dress was worth it for the look that her hair and make-up just finished off nicely.

When she stepped into the Paper Tiger, the warmth hit her legs at once, eliciting a puffed breath of relief from the diplomat, who shuddered a little at the change in temperature. She shrugged off her cloak, walking slower than the dress allowed as she did so. It allowed her to be elegant in her movements but it also gave her the inadvertent chance to eavesdrop on an exchange taking place at the bar.

The red headed woman seated at the bar was certainly pleasing from behind, the foreign galdor having to rein in her thoughts quite sharply as she came within caprision range. She didn’t need the woman picking up on things, no matter how fleeting. Still, she couldn’t devote all her attention to the other’s aesthetics, not when the bartender was treating her like a delicate little flower. It was a demeaning thing, something that Archibald knew better than to do to her but that was because the deceptively delicate-looking and petite Hoxian would rip his head off and he knew it. This one had fire in her belly, the snapped order for whisky making a small smirk quirk the diplomat’s lips. Then Archibald came in and undermined her and she seemed to fold in on herself, the confidence lost like smoke in the wind. She hadn’t sounded like someone saying it for the sake of it. She had sounded like someone who knew exactly what she was asking for. Well, if she wasn’t going to have the confidence to assert herself.

"I think you’ll find that the lady asked for a whisky, Archibald. Is the customer not always right?" Drezda interrupted coolly, inserting herself into the exchange as she minced right up to the bar and placed her cloak over the stool beside Khymarah. Her carefully tended hands fell on the bar top, manicured nails going through a brief staccato rhythm.

”Are you worried that you won’t be paid for what you provide? Consider it a non-issue. I’ll have the same as her and I’ll pay for them both,” she told him briskly with a slight flex of her field as she seated herself with care. His demeanour altered, the orders clearly not allowing him any room for debate as he set about filling them with a curt nod.

Now that she was seated beside her, she could appreciate her companion from a new angle. It was a change that was decidedly pleasant and she could say that she was immensely glad. Aside from the fact that the sight was certain to get to her.

”You sound like a woman who knows what she’s about when it comes to strong spirits so why did you hesitate?” she questioned Khymarah, her voice having lost much of its bark now.

Archibald set the drinks in front of them. ”Your whiskies, Miss Ecks,” he murmured with deference but also with a slight woodenness.

.

[Khy Marah]

Vortas 27th, 2718
PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR

Khymarah felt the wash of a ramscott field just behind her, though at first she thought nothing of it. The place was full of galdori, it was galdori exclusive by the look and feel of it, and so it wasn’t unusual to feel a field in her own aura. Her dual colored eyes dropped from Archibald’s face to the bartop, face red with embarrassment and hands slipping from the wood to her lap.

“I suppose I…” The young galdor lifted her eyes in surprise at the sound of a woman’s voice, cool and crisp with a definite air of authority as she slid into the space beside Khymarah near the other stool, her black fur cloak folded neatly over the back of the chair. The red haired woman glanced at the well manicured nails tapping impatiently on the wooden bartop, before bringing her gaze to see who exactly had spoken for her.

Good Lady of Light, I know that face.

Turning back to face the front, eyes wide and stomach turning with giddy surprise, the artisan watched as Archibald was quick to move and get the whisky as requested. Khymarah reached a hand up to the soft red curls that framed her face, subtly shifting them so a cascade would fall to hide the blue of her left eye and leave only the green one showing. Her field doetoed around the Hoxian beside her, careful to ensure she didn’t cause offence. The red head stole another glance at her face, trailing across pale skin and ruby lips, taking in the black stone of her onyx eyes and the very Hoxian updo of her dark hair. The scarlet haired woman recalled her face, because she’d admired it before. From afar—Gods forbid she never had the courage to actually speak to her—but it had been a sort of woeful crush perhaps? If women had crushes that was. Anaxas didn’t accept that sort of thought of course, even if it the concept felt perfectly acceptable to the painter.

It was Drezda Ecks.

The woman had been three years Khymarah’s senior at Brunnhold, arriving when the red head was only in third form. It had been a bit of a big deal, some big important galdor from Hox letting his daughter migrate to Anaxas for her final years. At first, she seemed like everyone else, but watching from her quiet sidelines Khymarah saw the older girl was different. She commanded a room, she had no time for fools, and she was quick with her magic. The younger girl looked up to Drezda quietly, pushing herself to be just as good, but she could never overcome the teasing and the failures that had been placed upon her shoulders. Her confidence was too broken to even take a second to offer a smile to the girl, to say hello, and in seventh form Drezda Ecks graduated and left Brunnhold whilst Khymarah stayed behind.

“I uh…I…don’t know. I mean. I do know. My spirits I mean. My father is the name behind Fireball Whiskey. Our family supplies the hops and such to develop the spirit itself.” She offered Drezda a shy smile as Archibald approached with the drinks. He was clearly not impressed with the fact that the Hoxian had made a fool of him, and Khymarah couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry as she picked up her glass and swirling the amber liquid slowly.

“You don’t grow up on a supply plantation for a distillery without sampling some of the end results.” Taking a small sip of the whisky, the nervous woman rolled the glass between her hands slowly.

“Well I mean, I’m sure the keep didn’t mean to be insulting. He probably just thought it best that I have a more lady like drink. I’ve just had one clocking wretched day, so I thought I would have something a little more bolstering but then…well it’s not my place. I’m just a woman. I’m just…I’m nobody.” Her cheeks darked again and she took another more impressive slug of the whiskey, wincing and suppressing a shudder as the aptly named Fireball burned its way down her throat. Daring herself to be brave, the red head offered the Hoxian another quick glance, catching the gorgeous cut of her foreign dress briefly. Bastia was all about fashion, and whilst Khymarah wasn’t boastful about her heritige, she had grown up knowing what looked good. Drezda’s dress was divine.

“You though, you’re somebody. I know who you are.” The scarlet haired galdor said softly, her heart hammering in her chest as though she was back in Brunnhold all over again. Looking away, she took another slug of the whiskey with a small cough. She needed to slow down, otherwise Archibald would stand correct after all.

[Drezda Ecks]

Vortas 27, 2718 | Paper Tiger | 24th Hour

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She wasn't going out of her way to caprise Khymarah's field but she couldn't help noticing how doe-toed the other was as they were quite close now. There was a soft flicker of amusement in her smile, a subtle shake of her head as she wondered at the timidity of this one. Did she think that the Hoxian was going to bite her?

Her onyx eyes were mainly focused ahead of her on the barkeep but she watched the redhead in her peripheral vision, fairly sure that the other was doing her best not to look in her direction. Had she stepped in to defend a mouse? Quite possibly, but she couldn't deny that she'd seen a flicker of something wilder, more courageous, like a Daegerote had appeared to put courage into her heart. The notion of a mouse with a Daegerote's spirit was an amusing one indeed but also intriguing! The Perceptive would love the chance to read her properly, better understand how her mind ticked if that were indeed the case.

Unfortunately, the Hoxian couldn't deny that she liked to gravitate to a certain kind of character. She liked timidity and submissiveness, yes, but she also found herself attracted to those who appeared to have fire hidden in their belly. It had flashed into view for mere seconds but it appeared to be there, potential resistance that the diplomat had always enjoyed bending to her will, so much more interesting than complete, unquestioning obedience and willingness.

Don't think like this, she's galdori, she hissed mentally, knowing that this was the sort of thing she so wanted to avoid and yet so often found herself falling victim to when she was out. If she had sense, she'd excuse herself but it was too tempting to play with this little... Anaxi? No, the hair could be right but there was something about her....

Her head turned, a careful tilt as she considered the other for a moment, considering the accent. She had had such fleeting exposure to it but as Khymarah began to talk to her directly, speaking more freely, she found her ear tuning to the cultured and dulcet tones. It was definitely grander than the Anaxi she was used to and given the similarities of appearance... Bastian? Oh if she was Bastian, that would just be wonderful, wouldn't it? If she was, she didn't appear to be someone who'd made use of the excellent Perceptive potential open to her; her field was laden with Static mona and a little Living. There was something ironic in that and it wasn't lost on Drezda. She had wanted to complete her education in Bastia because of their preference for the Perceptive whereas Hox had offered the sort of education that this woman might have appreciated. She could have gone to Frecksat for all she knew but she doubted it; those who left their Kingdom's own education system rarely went anywhere other than Brunnhold.

While Khymarah discussed whisky, the diplomat considered the spirit with pursed lips. It had been a thoughtless gesture to order it really, a moment's consideration more than enough to highlight the stupidity of drinking something so strong early in the evening. Typically, she would take a light wine and nurse a glass of it for most of the evening, perhaps stretching to two glasses. It wasn't because she was a stranger to strong alcohol - far from it - but it wasn't clever to take it, especially now when she might well drink more, mix it with other alcohols. She could make herself tipsy, or worse drunk and she couldn't have that. She also couldn't afford a hangover tomorrow either.

But it was just one glass and in spite of her size, she wasn't a lightweight. Besides, if she paced herself then there would be no harm done and she could always take some water in awhile if needs be. However, she was confident that she could drink this now and then fall into her usual pattern without much problem. She was Hoxian and had been weaned onto strong spirits before she'd begun her education at Brunnhold. They had spirits that burned on the way down and warmed you well, a valuable thing in their wintery land.

With a soft sigh, Drezda raised her glass and took a careful measured sip, rolling the liquid over her tongue before swallowing it, starting plenty of fires in its wake. She puffed out a short breath, the warmed air feeling cool as it slipped through the overheated recesses of her mouth. The first taste was always the worst and it had been awhile since she'd had anything so strong but she could appreciate the burn and the flavours that lingered as the fires receded a bit.

She tilted the glass, catching the light so that it shown through the amber liquid - a pretty display. It gave her something to focus on so that she didn't glare at Archibald, didn't allow sharper words to escape; it aided in her control of her temper.

"Is every woman a lady? Is every lady delicate? No and no, but it isn't about that is it? It's about how it looks. But fine, if men want to underestimate us, that's to our advantage, isn't it? They tend to fold faster when it turns out that a woman has bite," the ivory-skinned woman commented with a soft laugh, a derisive edge to it.

"You're a woman, yes, but never stick the just before it. You're not less than they are because of your sex. Different, yes but lesser? No, definitely not."

She turned in her seat so that she was half-facing her new companion, arm leaning on the bar with the glass in hand but her posture still quite proper; her back remained straight but not overly rigid. She took another drink, another measured sip before she set the glass down, deciding that a break wouldn't go amiss as she scrutinised the woman beside her, sizing her up.

The other's admittance that she knew Drezda made the Hoxian stiffen ever so slightly, immobile as a quick panic rushed through her. Oh no, was she meant to know this woman? The face didn't look familiar but if she knew her then-

No, she was a diplomat, she was known, wasn't she? To some degree, at least, but her Kingdom was considered a pissant one by the locals, her position viewed as ceremonial and largely unimportant by many. She actually wondered how many in the population actually knew that Hox had a representative here, let alone that it was Drezda. The people who knew who she was tended to move in similar circles but no, she didn't know this woman. She couldn't believe that they'd been introduced and that she'd forgotten her. Quiet though she might be, her appearance was sufficiently pleasant to make her memorable.

"Do you now? I'm sorry to say that you have me at a disadvantage, a regrettable one as I feel that I ought to know you," the young woman almost purred, right hand finding its way to her breast as she took a bow, more of an inclination of the neck given that she was seated.

"I'm Drezda Ecks, Hoxian diplomat to Anaxas, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Ms...?"

Her onyx eyes sought the other's gaze, her own fixed on the pretty woman's face.

.

[Khy Marah]

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Vortas 27th, 2718
​​PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR

​​

Glancing at Drezda as the Hoxian spoke to being a woman, Khymarah’s small shy smile widened slowly and her field bolstered. True to her reputation, the steely diplomat purred a reply that stirred something within the galdor, for all her gender. Not just a woman. A creature never to take lightly and never to underestimate. Powerful, even if the men folk didn’t quite understand it. It stirred her blood and rushed through her system like so much adrenaline in her veins.
​​
​​It was suffice to say the young red head practically had stars in her eyes as the older brunette thoroughly resolidified the reasons why Khymarah had idolized her in Brunnhold.
​​
​​Oh, but the social stumble, there it was!
​​
​​Her eyes widened and the smile dropped immediately as Drezda paused when she admitted she knew her, putting her glass down on the countertop and shaking her head. The blush rolled across her face and disappeared under the burgundy lace of her dress.
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​​ “Oh no, no no you’d never know me. I was at Brunnhold, though I was three years your junior. I’d just finished seventh form when you graduated.” Mimicking the Hoxian’s small bow, the artist gushed nervously with a bright smile and a breathless exclamation.
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​​ “Drezda Ecks! I know! Of course you became the Ambassador, it definitely suits you. I was such a huge admirer in school. You were so collected and calm, and you just had this air of authority and your spellwork—Perceptive I know it should be my wheelhouse but I could never enjoy it—but you were so good and I wanted so badly to be like that but I was just so shy and of course the bullying didn’t help and—“ Khymarah had brushed her hair aside in her excitement, tucking it behind her ear and moving her hands animatedly, absolutely channeling her younger self as she turned to face the woman, knees brushing Drezda’s unconciosuly. The moment she realised how casually creepy she sounded, her words cut short and she stared for a minute, before turning back to the bar and pressing both palms on the cool wood.
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​​ “Gods I am sorry. I’m not usually this…”
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​​Childish? Talkative? Weird?
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​​ “…excitable.” Picking up the whiskey, she took another sip and looked down at the half drunk beverage with a soft scoff at her own ridulousness.
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​​ ”You were everything I wanted to be, but nothing I was. Even now, after so many years from Brunnhold I still can’t press past it.” Straightening her shoulders, the scarlet haired woman looked at Drezda without hiding, letting the collected Hoxian see the actual adult within.
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​​ “Khymarah Theraldon, though my title isn’t as grand as yours. Painter and plantation owners daughter. Though,” She held up the amber whiskey and smiled wryly, shaking the glass a little.
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​​ “My father did have a whiskey named after him, so the Theraldon’s are known to have some fire. Just not sure where mine went. Maybe I left it in Bastia.” Sipping the beverage, Khymarah gestured to the general area.
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​​ “What brings you here though Ambassador Ecks? Not just this quaint establishment, but Anaxas? Are you here on business matters?” Her dual colored eyes skimmed over the pale skin of the woman’s arms and face, swallowing nervously before looking away. It had only been a few years, but Drezda appeared ageless, her almond eyes and heart shaped face as perfectly flawless as it had been when they were students.
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​​Not appropriate Khy. Not appropriate.
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[Drezda Ecks]

Vortas 27, 2718 | Paper Tiger | 24th Hour

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Drezda hadn’t been trying to give the younger woman a pep talk - she didn’t go in for pep - but the positive effects of her words were quite evident. Her expression changed, her field too as it became gold-shift. It was something that left the diplomat more than a little bemused, wondering why the woman seemed so... happy. No, it wasn’t something as simplistic as the word ‘happy’ described but something richer, deeper. It was strangely alluring, the woman taking on an aura - if she believed in such things - that was magnetic. The Hoxian has to resist the urge to lean closer, to narrow the space between them.

She blinked rapidly, giving a minute shake of her head as she tried to clear herself of the sensation, wondering why she felt off-kilter. Maybe it was the sheer sincerity of the emotion, her smile so genuine and yet something lay beneath it. It wasn’t hidden, it was just... too big to fully surface, that was it. It wasn’t something that she encountered in the political scene. It wasn’t really something that she encountered ever. No one would display emotion in such a manner in Hox and no one had acted that way towards her in Brunnhold. Oh she’d had friends - okay, acquaintances, really - but had they ever been truly happy to have the cold and rigid female in their presence? She doubted it. And in politics, the only thing that was ever hidden behind smiles for her were knives. It was the newness of it, the fact that such a thing was being thrown her way that made her feel so off-balance.

And then it was as if the glowing emotion was doused, the shift... difficult to grasp, chaotic as if Khymarah didn’t know how to feel. The diplomat simply sat and stared, trying to grasp what was going on and unbeknownst to her, her lips parted and remained stuck that way. The ebony-haired woman did not appear to notice.

The woman was so open, so quick to allow her emotions to spill over. It was a deluge, but yet it shifted and roiled like a rough sea. She had never been in a boat, especially not one that was tempest tossed, but this must be what it was akin to. For perhaps the first time in her life, the diplomat was gawking, unable to comprehend the words that started to gush from the redhead’s mouth. Enthusiasm, passion, sheer star-struck dear that she was, she also managed to spill out dashed hopes and inadequacies and rejection all over the older woman.

Her lips moved, a weak attempt to interrupt to say that she was no ambassador, not a diplomat. Her country wasn’t important enough for such a grand title, such fantastic political clout. What was more, she doubted that her own people cared, especially not her father. If Hox had never decided to interact with the other Five Kingdoms and remain insular then they couldn’t see the loss. Hadn’t they managed for years without joining the others on the political stage and hadn’t they fared fine, thank you very much? To her own people, she was probably a joke, the Hoxian had always secretly thought so. Her parents would never be content with what she did, her admittance of homosexuality a stinging blow to them as it had scuppered all their plans. How could they marry her off now when there would be no fruit from such a marriage? What would be the point? Did it matter if she was magically talented when it was going to be squandered, stuck in a genetic dead-end when she would never pass it on?

And yet in spite of all her inadequacies whether she'd been told them or imagined them, Khymarah was looking at her and speaking about her as if... as if... well, she made it sound like Drezda should have been elevated to join the Circle long ago. Colour rose to her cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure as she tried to absorb it all, all too aware that the other had unthinkingly brushed against her before she retreated into herself again.

This one was going to make Drezda completely dizzy.

Suddenly, they were back to polite conversation as if Khymarah hadn't just admitted that the Hoxian was her idol. Holy Bash, she was the woman's idol! How had that happened? What person who wasn't Hoxian, who didn't have that built-in need for emotional reserve, want to emulate her? Clock the Circle, as her own people went, she didn't think that they even considered her emotional reserve very good. She wouldn't interest one and wouldn't be approved by the other so to hear this, so out of the blue.

The woman finally went to reply, actually realising for the first time that she'd had her mouth open and the saliva had even dried up. She tried to lick her lips, tried to bring the moisture back as she went to speak.

Instead of words, she made a sound between a gurgle and a whisper of indistinct sound.

Her face darkened further, the woman turning her head for a moment, hoping that breaking eye contact would improve things as she went to take a drink to wet her mouth again.

Composure. She needed that back. Where had it gone?

The whisky burned in the dry recesses of her mouth, drawing a brief, spluttering cough from her.

"Pardon me, I can usually handle my whisky better than that," she explained with an uncomfortable smile. "I'm... well, I'm not an ambassador actually, just a diplomat. There is a difference, believe it or not, but my own title isn't as... illustrious," she admitted, reaching up to check that her hair was still in place, really just trying to find something to do with her hands.

Her gaze met the other's, seeing both eyes for the first time and giving a start. The name... Khymarah hadn't done anything for her, the family name stirring some familiarity but in a distant way; she knew of it but it had been largely unimportant. The eyes though...

"I remember you," she breathed out, embarrassed for simply letting it spill out so... unpolished. At least she hadn't pointed. At least the Hoxian still had that degree of control. No doubt the woman had had many people point and stare at her heterochromia, snigger at it. The word 'bullying' from the rush of words came back to her.

Yes, she could remember those eyes on her, fascination stirred in her despite her interest in the Perceptive rather than the Living. Drezda had still shown some interest in the living sciences, in the notion of characteristics being passed on.

Mutations, those things that didn't fit a pattern and showed up in unexpected ways, seemingly at random. She'd seen it and been interested, on more than one occasion but had never approached her, never shown that outward display of interest.

"I'm sorry, I meant... I remember seeing you. I didn't know your name and I never talked to you but... yes, I recognise you now," she admitted with a soft smile. She felt more in control now. She might send the artist into raptures again but she didn't think she'd actually mind, not to hear someone talk about Drezda that way and to see that euphoria again.

"But yes, you asked me about my reasons for being in Anaxas. I'm surprised that you aren't aware of them yourself given that you've followed my career so diligently, it seems," the ivory-skinned woman commented dryly, the slight smirk that quirked her lips showing that it wasn't meant entirely unkindly. Just a little tease.

"Honestly? It's good for those Hoxians here to have someone to look out for them, particularly those in Brunnhold. It can be difficult to deal with a culture that's so... different, especially if you happened to begin your magical education in Frecksat. I also provide an easier route for those who wish to attend Frecksat instead of Brunnhold. A less common occurrence I'll admit but... becoming more frequent. It's my job really. I think it's perhaps more pertinent for me to ask why you're in Anaxas? Surely, artistic talent would be better appreciated in Bastia than here, would it not?"

"I did have to come here to get a better Perceptive education than at home but... well, it's about subtleties, finer things and I'm not sure that Anaxi appreciate details."

.

[Khy Marah]

Vortas 27th, 2718
PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR

Drezda was looking at her, with mouth agape and face a mask of something akin to surprise. Or shock. Or overwhelmedness.

Oh Gods, now you’ve done it. You’ve made an absolute fool of yourself and she’s embarrassed to be associated with you.

A sound escaped the brunette, and she turned away with her pale skin turning a shade darker, causing the red haired woman to fret even more, grabbing her glass and taking far larger a gulp of whiskey than ever required. Her throat burned, and her eyes watered slightly, berating herself for all her over excited waffle and inappropriate thoughts. She nodded with a slightly raised finger, whilst looking at her glass.

“Right. Diplomat, of course. You said that. I just assumed that…well…I just assumed!” Khymarah said softly, turning her face slowly to the Hoxian as she breathed three small words that caused the painters stomach to turn and her field draw closer slightly.

I remember you.

The galdor looked away again, her cheeks flushed and hand reaching to run fingers through scarlet locks to bring them subtly across her off color eye, knowing too well that it was too late for that. Drezda remembered her, not because of her name, but because of her parents shame. Her wretched mutation. It was nice to know the older woman had been aware of her, in some way she’d existed to the Drezda Ecks. It just wasn’t for any special reasons.

The red head laughed softly, shrugging as though to say ‘fair call’ as Drezda teased her regarding the Hoxian’s career. She listened carefully, the whiskey that she’d all but inhaled buzzing just ever so slightly behind her eyes.

“I entertained the idea of Freckstat in my last three years, but by then it seemed too late to bother. I imagine the Hoxian community, whilst not seeking you as frequently, would at least be at ease knowing you’re here. I’ll admit, I have read a lot about your country, but I’ve never visited. Moving from Bastia to Anaxas is about as upheaving as trying on a new dress. Except Bastia is prettier and fancier, and takes more pride in its appearance.” Khymarah smirked, not ashamed to admit that Anaxas didn’t have the class of her home country, even if she’d grown up on a plantation she’d still spent her youth in the various towns and cities. Her father and mother, as ashamed as they were of her abnormality, still had to be social and seen. The young red head had been to fashion shows, art exhibits and all sorts of fanciful vibrant celebrations in her time, and she visited every school break.

It had been too long since she went home. Perhaps it was worth a visit.

Shaking herself from the nostalgic thoughts the scarlet haired Bastian nodded, looking sideways at Drezda with the same smirk.

“It’s strategic. Of course, the free spirited, open ended artistic side of my profession would be far more appreciated at home. Maybe hung in exhibitions, or put on display in the spring festival, but at the end of the day in Bastia I am just another artist. Another hopeless romantic child of some over inflated so and so who is drifting through life on First Light and tea and all those stuffy social parties where everyone falsly fawns over everyone else.” The woman waved her hand, acting out the part complete with fluttering eyelashes and perfected sighs of mild boredom.

“Here though, in Anaxas, my skill isn’t a dime a dozen. It’s sought after specifically, for pompous entrepreneurs who simply must have little Timmy painted with his precious Fefe to hang over the fireplace, or Professor Masculine Overcompensation who needs to see his own face on every wall in Brunnhold. I don’t get as much creative freedom here, but I get a far more work and recognition than I would back home.” Finishing the last of her drink, her fingers flicked towards the glass, eyes falling on Archibald with a smile.

“Another. For the both of us.” She said in a far more confident and firm tone than she had previously used with him, almost daring the man to try and pull the same stunt with her again. Archibald lifted his chin, struggling to bite his tongue, whilst bringing the decanter and pouring both women another two fingers of the amber liquid. Picking up the whiskey, Khymarah laughed again.

“Anaxas for Perceptive? Nothing against Brunnhold, I learned some brilliant things there, but the place is a bit….oversold, if you ask me. It’s the biggest, and the most prestigious school in Vita, but I don’t think it’s the best. Apparently in Gior, they teach something called Echo Casting, which lets you cast as though in a chorus, but with only one person. I’ve never seen ‘Echo Casting 101’ on Brunnholds course list.” Sipping on the warmth inducing drink, the woman raised an eyebrow.

“If anything, you’d be better in Bastia for Perceptive. Nothing makes your artistry more appealing to an audience than a little magical assistance.” Her tone was almost conspiratorial, offset by another chuckle as she returned her gaze back to the bartop.

[Drezda Ecks]

Vortas 27, 2718 | Paper Tiger | 24th Hour

.

Awkwardness wasn't something that the Hoxian had to deal with very often. Other people might grow awkward or flustered around her but it wasn't contagious; Drezda tended to remain calm. She had no idea how Khymarah had managed to so successfully get under her skin, the carefully cultivated and manner that she'd learned at home wobbling rather violently as she tried to handle this situation.

How often had she chatted to women in bars? So many occasions, so many times when she'd kept outward face while inside, she was in turmoil. The last time she'd had a wobble quite this bad - okay, it had been a lot worse given the vomiting and the veritable sobbing - the circumstances had been far less pleasant and it had come at an unfortunate time. This time, the Hoxian wasn't attempting to show any sort of superiority and she'd altered since her schooldays in any case, at least around galdori. Usually.

But by Bash, could this situation be any more slippery? She swore that politicians were easier to handle than this. However, she understood that world, didn't she? There were rules, there was fakery, there was all that. Flirting in bars usually had rules and fakery to it too, a sense that things were casual and that they actually kind of wanted to keep each other at arm's length.

She was fairly sure that Khymarah did not want to keep her at arm's length. Drezda wasn't sure how she felt about it but this was pretty alien territory. The dark-haired woman wasn't used to landing her foot in it and yet the moment that she said she remembered the girl, she seemed to know that she'd been recognised by her eyes. It was all too clear in the self-conscious way that she hid one of them with her hair, giving the impression that the secret orb must be the identical fellow of the one on display; Drezda knew better of course.

What could she say? No, I actually think that they're pretty and interesting and I'd love to have the chance to look at them in more detail? She certainly couldn't refer to them, not even in a positive manner, because that would be an admittance.

You're only memorable to me because you're freakish.

Khymarah wasn't a freak though. A little odd perhaps, some eccentricity there before but she was also bubbly and personable and gorgeous.

She's a galdor, she reminded herself in warning.

One with a massive crush on you, her mind whispered, a veritable purr that had her heart beating so much faster. It had already been beating fast (when had that happened?) but now it seemed fit to burst from her chest like a frantic bird that had been driven mad at finding itself caged.

The Hoxian had to remain calm, that was all. The rocky patch would smooth and they could have a good, polite conversation. Provided that she could avoid entertaining thoughts.

The whisky was picked up against, a sip bringing the liquid lower than before, another quickly following it. The small remainder gave the woman pause, considering the point of setting it back down when there was such a little drop left. It could be finished so easily, just a quick knock back and it'd be empty, the spirit gone to warm her belly. It went down before she had a chance to think too deeply about it. There was no time to wonder how long had passed since the drink's arrival, how rapidly she'd consumed it. It made her feel a little steady, the initial buzz from consuming it a welcome placebo before the real effects hit.

While she drank it gave the redhead the chance to smooth things over, the Hoxian nodding along in acknowledgement, considering her glass with interest. However, the comparison between Anaxas and Bastia drew a loud snort of laughter from Drezda. The sound made her wince, the woman catching her lip between her teeth as she wondered what on Vita was wrong with her. Laughing was acceptable provided that it was soft and brief. It had nothing to do with being lady-like; a snort was not a sign of good control over one's emotions.

Although she didn't entirely regret it. While she hadn't been to Bastia herself, the sentiment sounded correct. In her eyes, Anaxas was a trashy nation, brimming over with lower races and stupid, diluted galdori who had ended up with a prime university by sheer luck. Needless to say, she didn't think it deserved the attention that it got but she had her reasons for being here; the desire to steal from it was great. To visit Bastia was a dream though, a dream denied by her parents just like so much else. Gods, such opportunity that had gone to waste because her parents didn't want their daughter to go to such a 'frivolous' kingdom.

As Khymarah kept talking though, she had to wonder if the alcohol had gone to her head. Maybe the alcohol was going to her own head. It'd certainly explain the next snort of laughter that escaped her, softer this time, as the other mimicked the sort of women who were part of Bastia's social scene. It reminded her of many of the girls she'd gone to Brunnhold with, giggling away over nothing, petting one another and hanging out of each other almost constantly. Immature, vapid creatures with nothing real or substantial about them. Presumably those who attended Bastia's social events had a bit more gumption, putting it on for show but alas, she could well believe that such silly girls existed in adult form at large in society.

Professor Masculine Overcompensation drew a laugh, thankfully not a snort. Still, she could feel Archibald's eyes on them both, the Hoxian oddly self-conscious as she found him watching her, assessing the interaction between the two. Was he entertained? Probably. He'd seen the Hoxian woman before but he'd certainly never seen her this warm. Maybe their bartender audience was the reason that they got service far too fast, Khymarah ordering another whisky before Drezda could protest.

"Another whisky? This still on my money, is it?" she asked wryly, teasing in an attempt to hide her discomfort. Two whiskies, one step closer to getting sloshed and one step closer to a horrific hangover in the morning. Water, soon, it would be her new friend. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk, Khymarah Theraldon," she added with a laugh, words tripping from her tongue before she could stop them. She took a drink from her new whisky, the burn far less pronounced now than it had been.

She was probably getting drunk and coming all too close to losing face. If she was wise, she'd abandon the fresh whisky instead of sipping at it, switch to water instead.

Wisdom wasn't the present feeling.

"Oh I have plenty against Brunnhold. I didn't want to go there at all. I didn't want Anaxas, I wanted Bastia but my parents wouldn't allow it," the brunette admitted, pulling a face. "If they'd actually gone to Brunnhold themselves, they probably wouldn't have let me come this far. No, they were both Frecksat. It was good enough for them both, good enough for my brother, good enough for generations of my people so why couldn't I stay there and study something sensible. Do you think Perceptives, proper Perceptives go to Hox to teach? Not a chance."

The disgust was coming through stronger now, the woman shaking her head. With some bewilderment, she discovered that the glass was back in her hand with less than half of its original contents. She hiccuped.

"Excuse me. I wanted to go to Bastia but my parents thought it was too frivolous. It was bad enough that I wanted Perceptive and that I'd pursued it at Frecksat, even though I was scrabbling at the bottom of the spice rack but to go off to a kingdom of art and emotional people? No, not a chance. So... kingdom of trash and watered down gollies instead. Much better," she remarked snidely.

Her hindbrain was screaming at her, unable to apply the brakes as she allowed the alcohol to loosen her tongue.

"You get falsely fawning people, I get people who might as well have been carved out of the mountain and are about as warm as the Ophus snow. I can deal with people being fake, I mean... I'm a politician. They're all fake! But at home, clock the Circle, is it any wonder I can manage politics. It's easy compared to that. A mother could lose her only child to the snows and she'd have to sit there stony-faced while people bowed to her and didn't touch her. It's not comforting and if she sobbed... people who knew her wouldn't talk to her, they'd look through her rather than admit that they knew a zjovrash."

She hiccuped again, a speedbump that failed to stop her or even slow her down as she continued her sneering, her voice dripping with contempt.

"In my culture, you can't declare things. Your whole... thing before about me where you were ready to fall into my lap or my bed or whatever, Hoxians would hate you for that. Oh yes, they wouldn't be nasty about it because you're a foreigner and a Bastian, worse, but inwardly, they'd hate you. If I did it, my family would disown me. I'm surprised they haven't disowned me for liking women but out of sight, out of mind. As long as nobody knows, it's just fine. All about saving face."

Her hindbrain appeared to be cursing her, crying as she allowed her tongue to commit folly. The glass appeared to have emptied itself and she stared at its emptiness for one horrible moment of sobriety.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, what was she doing?

The words that were coming out of her mouth.

The words.

"Water!" she croaked, the glass cracking down on the bar top that had Archibald wincing. She needed to sober up, needed to have something non-alcoholic in her hands. Because she would drink it without thinking, whatever was there, the fog of inebriation coming down again, taking sense with it.

"They can think what they like but I say... I say... your eyes, they're pretty. There, I said it!"

.

[Khy Marah]

Vortas 27th, 2718
PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR

At the sudden burst of laughter, so uncannily out of place on the Hoxian, Khymarah couldn’t resist the grin that broke out on her lips, delighted to see a smile on the older womans face. She could never recall Drezda smiling in Brunnhold, so to see it now was like some late graduation surprise, a beautiful spark on a very serious face. The red head couldn’t help the rush of her pulse in her ears as she admired the other woman’s appearance as they spoke, each smile or soft laugh a delightful sound to her ears, like a deer caught in a hunters sights. As Drezda bit her lip, the galdor made a soft sound, a wistful sigh before catching herself. Blinking and looking at the drinks as they were poured, the Bastian chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“I believe the poor starving artist can afford these ones Miss Ecks.” Picking up the whiskey to sip it again, Khymarah raised both eyebrows this time with another laugh and a deeper blush.

“Alioe I am sorry! I have had the most horrific day. My osta woke me in the most awful way, then the painting I was working on got damaged—I haven’t even fixed it yet—but then I went for a walk along the Avora and slipped right the clock in! I thought I would visit the library, do some reading, clear my mind and would you believe it the clocking place was closing! Another Anaxas habit that I have never been able to get used to. Bastia businesses are open much later, thanks to tourists and the outdoor events.” Raising her glass, the scarlet haired galdor looked through the amber fluid with a sigh.

“So in truth, perhaps I did come here to get a little drunk. Getting drunk with Drezda Ecks though? That was an unexpected and wonderful accident.” She smiled again, turning to face the woman with a brush of knees and a complete obliviousness to any curious assumptions Archibald would make. Her smile turned into a warm grin as the brunette Hoxian admitted she’d had intentions to go to Bastia instead, secretly delighted that the woman hadn’t. If she had, then Khy would never had known of her, seen her, admired her.

Selfish.

Her field washed against Drezda’s with a casual ease, humming with feelings that really were not suitable for public knowledge. If there was an inquisitiveness in any of the galdori around them, they would sense it too, but frankly the red head was too pleasently warm to care. At the mention of the Hoxian’s parents, Khymarah made a sound of acknowledgement.

“Oh yes! Parent’s always know best! Mine were so desperate to hide the fact that they’d produced an imperfect spawn, a terrible mutation, that they gave me a clocking complex. Did you know, of course you don’t, but did you know they made me wear an eyepatch whilst I was at home? Like some fantastical Harbour pirate.” She laughed, leaning against the bar with a casual comfort. The emerald-saphirre eyed woman felt her smile fall and reached out to rest a hand on the woman’s knee in sympathy, brow drawing at the description of Hox.

“That’s awful Drezda! I mean, I understand the desire to be strong and emotionless but that is…cruel. You deserved the right to explore, and to find your place. Your place, not the one your parents or your people wanted you to take.” As the beautiful foreigner continued to talk, the Bastian felt her cheeks darkening.

“Falling into be—wait I…” Her blush grew deeper, rolling across her face and down her throat, dual colored eyes flicking to Archibald nervously, before turning back to the older woman.

“Drezda I—just hang…” Khymarah placed her glass on the bartop, reaching to place her other hand on the other knee. Something stirred within her at the womans too open, too frank words. An excitement, growing within and causing her to feel weak at the knees. She shouldn’t smile, she should stop the diplomat talking, and yet the small curl of her lips was creeping up like the morning sun.

The sound of the glass cracking down on the wood caused the red head to jump, drawing her hands away with a blink, grabbing for her own whiskey and all but skulling it with a wince and a shudder. Nearly choking on the final gulp, Khymarah moved the glass to press her fingers to her lips, wide eyed as she turned to stare at the Hoxian for a moment.

Seconds ticked by, before finally she found her voice.

“You think they’re…pretty?” It was said in a tone of baffled wonder, and a little caution. Would the Hoxian be so kind if she weren’t already a little bit drunk? Would she regret saying all the things she’d just said come the morning?

Will you?

Putting down the empty glass, Khymarah drew some coins and dropped them on the bartop, slipping from the seat slowly.

“Why don’t we…why don’t we go get some air? Yes?” If the older brunette would follow her, collecting coats and buttoning along the way, Khymarah would walk beside her with a pleasant mild drunkeness. They strolled through the closed nighttime streets of Vienda together, the painter not speaking for a moment, before she finally found the words she wanted to say.

“For a long time, at Brunnhold, I had these thoughts. About other girls. About you.” Her face was red in the cold night, but the young woman continued, her bravery bolstered by the whiskey.

“I hid them, because I feared what would happen if someone found out. If someone knew that I thought my peers were pretty, and that I dreamed about…well things that I have been told girls don’t dream about.” Looking up at the starry sky, the scarlet galdor made a strange sound.

“I can’t believe I am telling Drezda Ecks this but…I haven’t…I’ve never…men. Right? At all. Ever. And to be honest the idea repulses me. All hands and leering faces and…other things.” Khymarah laughed again, tipsy from the walk and the drink and the rather honest admissions. Her dual colored gaze shifted back to the Hoxian with an embarassed smile.

“I didn’t realise there were others, like me. Anaxas is so ashamed, and Bastia for all its artistic freedom doesn’t exactly embrace the idea either. I hear they’re a little less concerned in Gior, but…here we are. In Anaxas.” Tucking her hair behind her ear, the red head slowed, hands in her pockets and looking over the other womans face carefully.

“This might be bold to say, but, I’m glad that I had a bad day today, because it let me meet you again.”

[Drezda Ecks]

Vortas 27, 2718 | Paper Tiger | 24th Hour

.

Her field had begun to pulse, the irritation of the Hoxian all too clear, even in spite of the delighted, warm field that lapped at her own. She had begun to say things that she should not, allowing the years of her home culture to grate on her more openly. So many pent-up frustrations that had been so carefully hidden, so carefully stored so that they would never see the light of day were spilling out in the drunken night with far too much whiskey to hurry them along. There were things that she said, things that would be clearly recalled in sobriety because she was not drunk enough to have the luxury of forgetting them. The woman could be quite crass but typically only in her head. Thinking it was fine but saying any of it...

Speaking of her own culture with such venom was bad, possibly more shaming when she sobered than her flippant remarks about Khymarah’s idolisation of her. Her words to the woman though were cruel, needlessly so, and yet she didn’t actually mean them to be nasty. The woman’s attraction to her was self-evident, whether it was platonic or sexual, it was clear just how much she wanted Drezda - to be her, to possess her, whatever - and in truth, the lines could get quite blurred. She’d seen that with women, friendships that bled into more, the involved parties confused as they tried to separate two different sets of feelings that could share a shocking amount in common. Khymarah had clearly experienced the whole jumble but seemed to be leaning more towards attraction than a simple desire to be friends with her.

The Hoxian might keep it hidden but she wasn’t actually shy about her attraction to women. It was very straightforward really. She was not attracted to men, they pretty much disgusted her, but women were too lovely to deny so she wouldn’t. It was just complicated by other things, things that were unexpected. When people thought of relationships between women, even sexual ones, they thought of softness, tenderness, something loving and squishy. Drezda’s dealings... weren’t like that. If she was attracted to men, she felt that some of them would be disturbed by her proclivities. But she’d had women willing to put up with it, passives yes, already somewhat terrified of her to begin with but who had... come to enjoy their time with her. Even Rosmilda had admitted that she loved her.

The recollection of that made her flinch, the pulse in her field more pronounced. It was part of the reason why she was here, part of the reason why she’d abandoned the passive for the evening. Of late, there dealings had been... uncomfortable and all because the foolish girl had had to voice such a blasted admittance and mean it.

Maybe that was why she was here so unhinged, so unfiltered and allowing this woman to get under her skin, welcoming it in contrast to the guilty, forbidden and sordid affair that she’d been conducting. Passives were easy but she hated it, and herself, for involving herself in something so disgusting. Just because she couldn't breed with one didn't mean that it wasn't wrong.

Still, just because she was sore about her passive situation didn't mean that she should be doing this, saying the things that she was but given the redhead's proximity, the giddiness in her field, her hands on Drezda's legs...

The control had slipped, her handle on the situation utterly gone but in spite of everything, the thing that got to her the most was the unsolicited contact. She had to resist the urge the grab the other's wrists, to clamp and slightly twist to cause pain and extract an apology, obedience. This was no passive and it was a public place so far from wise. Instead, attention turned to her water, downing it rapidly even though it glugged down too fast, sloshing around in a manner in her insides that was sickening. Too much, too fast. Still, she waved for another, determined to get her wits back.

"Yes, I always thought- Pretty and fascinating," she admitted, brushing the woman's hands from her legs. The second glass of water went down a lot slower, the addition of more fluid extremely unsettling so she had to take it in smaller gulps. Halfway through it when the artist made her suggestion, the Hoxian diplomat paused, head tilting as she considered. She wet her lips.

"I- Yes, all right, I could do with clearing my head a bit," Drezda admitted with a hiccup, fingers pressing to her lips as if she was actually covering a burp. Sliding from the stool, she found herself unsteady, wobbling and almost... weak. Too hot, the whiskey sloshing through her veins in an uncomfortable manner. Was she sick from the alcohol or all that water, both drunk too fast?

Perhaps the only time that she was grateful for how her dress restricted her steps, the small movements easier than proper strides, the material sheathing her legs and leaving her feeling more stable than her body was naturally inclined to feel right now. In spite of her furred cloak, the outside air was biting, drawing a shiver from her that was welcome. The cold was sobering, grounding, giving the chance for the Hoxian to gather her wits, nausea slowly dispersing as she took deep, chilly breaths.

The artist's words gave her time to think, to gather herself before she opened her stupid, unfiltered mouth again. However, now that they were away from prying eyes, there was less harm. Having said what she had, there was also considerably less to lose. So Khymarah's admittance that she'd had thought about women, about Drezda specifically, drew a sly smile to the foreigner's lips, eyeing the other as she did so.

There was a query within her, an indecent one and she had to fight to shove it down, laughing instead at the mention of men, a safer topic, one that they could agree on. Safe ground, it was needed.

"Men! Don't even! I spend most of my time letting them think that I'm interested in them, even the ones- no, especially the ones that would hardly be fine specimens even if I was that way inclined. But it's so much suggestion, so much selling of myself. At least prostitutes actually get paid," she commented with disgust, shuddering slightly at the remembrance of the many, many times she'd coaxed information out of men by being... seemingly available.

The notion that Khymarah hadn't known that there were other lesbians in existence made the query rise up again, bubbling out of her lips before she could stop it. "What? Have you never acted on your attractions?" she blurted out, genuinely surprised and kicking herself for saying it aloud. She was actually a little more sober now. "I'm sorry, that was a very personal and inappropriate question. You'll have to excuse me, I believe I lost my manners somewhere in the bar."

She tried to laugh it off but inwardly, there was some glee, the notion that she had an attractive - and the attraction was certainly reciprocated - virginal woman was too lovely for her to resist. The temptation to invite the artist home was suddenly very, very strong, certain that the woman would be grateful to her, even if Drezda did indulge her darker desires.

You can't do this! You can't do this! she almost screamed at herself, biting on her lip, trying to keep the invitation in. It would be too easy, control established so perfectly and instantly and all she had to do was-

No, no, no, no, no, she couldn't. She mustn't.

"I understand what you mean though, the hiddenness of it. It's technically legal but it's not really... accepted among galdori. But there are signs of it. Women can be very close friends, you know, but sometimes they aren't friends at all. Spinsters living together because they're away from their families, don't have as much money, it's 'cheaper.' It has nothing to do with money. Women can be touchy feely but it's easier when you're younger, I suppose. Easier in Brunnhold. Probably harder for men but... maybe people are more inclined to believe them when they say..." she trailed off, catching her lip between her teeth again.

"My parents asked me if I had to like women or if I could just... well, could I not just pretend? Could I not get married to a man and have children and just... indulge things on the side if I really had to? Sorry, no, it isn't like I'm eating something that I don't really like and I'll eat it to be polite or so as not to be inconvenient. They don't get it at all. The mere suggestion that I might be married and have affairs made my father uncomfortable. It was my mother's suggestion, tacking on something like 'well, some men do it.' Funny that. Men can sleep around before marriage, during it, whenever really and that's just... well,men, isn't it? But a woman? No, no, loose morals. She could have sex with one person before marriage and she's considered soiled and disgusting if it's discovered. Double standards!"

Her breath puffed out, pluming thickly before her. Even in spite of the walk, her legs were beginning to feel a bit numb, the cut of the dress' skirt cruel for this weather. "It's too cold for this. A funny thing for a Hoxian to say but Anaxas has messed up my sense of temperatures," the female diplomat explained with a laugh. "I don't fancy doubling back to the bar just to get back to somewhere warm but... if I might be so bold, it isn't far to my residence from here. I wouldn't propose drinking more alcohol but I can give you the chance to sober up, perhaps get my passives to bring you home by carriage?"

.