I Probably Shouldn't [tag Lan!]

[Kat]

Even though he had been at the Eyrie for less than a day, Sylvester already felt the need for a drink. The whole day had been stressful, first with his desperate and pathetic attempt to find a mode of transportation to the Eyrie, with his failed and aborted bar fight, and his search for his elusive brother. And now, Sylvester felt a strong desire to drown out the newly formed noise of his brain created by coming to a new place. Sylvester expected he would have to deal with more of his brother’s anger, worry, and disapproval, which colored the interactions he usually had with Silvanus. Sylvester loved his brother endlessly, but he hated feeling like he intruded and destroyed his life at all times. The twenty-one year old sighed as he slinked into the kitchens, already having found them in an earlier quest for his brother. He was not exactly sure if candidates were allowed to drink, if there were any laws or rules or regulations controlling the consumption of alcohol, but he did not care. From what Sylvester had seen, there were rules regulating everything here. It was a horrible place with all the laws regulating everyone’s behavior. Sylvester was already sick of living here, even more so than he had been the first time he visited. He was in a completely different situation now, having been searched as a candidate and with his brother a new winglet, and Sylvester did not like it.

At almost midnight, Sylvester assumed that he would be one of the few people in the kitchens, and as he entered, Sylvester was pleased to see that he was correct. He bit his lip, which burned as his teeth irritated the split and bruise already there from the punch he took earlier that day. He was lucky that he did not insight the injury further, and that the scab which formed held. Bleeding in a place of food, even Sylvester could acknowledge, was disgusting. Then, the man slid further into the kitchens, until he hung on the counter in the back where the food was presented. Dull green-blue eyes flashed across the length of the counter, until the man spotted a small snatch of a kitchen maid. She was plain, but not unattractive. His eyebrows lifted and he tilted his head in a small, come hither gesture. While he did not speak well, Sylvester did manage to convey a certain attractiveness through the manipulation of his gaze. His large, sad eyes conveyed a sense of obvert neediness and hunger that he looked quite alluring—at least, he had been told that. His brother was definitely the more attractive of the twins, and ridiculously charming to boot, but somehow Sylvester still tended to do all right for himself as far as attracting potential sexual exploits. But this girl was not pretty or interesting enough to attract Sylvester. He just wanted her to help him.

The girl responded appropriately, although she approached hesitantly, as if she feared Sylvester to some extent. He supposed he looked pretty awful, with his body thin, gaunt—almost emaciated, from his recent injury and recovery. And it did not help that his face was bruised, his lip ripped, and his check puffing with a developing bruise. Perhaps more girls needed to approach him cautiously, Sylvester mused, as the girl finally reached him.
”Can I help you?”
The girl questioned, and Sylvester tilted his head, trying to twist his slightly swollen mouth into what he hoped was a decently attractive smile. It probably just made him look like a creep.
“I need a drink—whatever you got.”
Sylvester grunted. He had stopped even trying to charm the girl into giving him what he wanted. She was not responding, and he could not blame her. He hoped that perhaps her anxiety towards him would manifest as a potent enough fear that she would oblige him. As he thought that thought, a wave of rather intense self-hatred. He strongly disliked the fact that he come across frightening to anyone, but he knew that he did not exactly display the best persona or character under any circumstances.

The girl nodded, and then she slipped into the back room and returned carrying a large mug. She slid it across the table into Sylvester’s waiting hands. Then, he lifted it and drank deeply, emptying almost half the mug before he placed it down. It was ale, and it was drinkable. He nodded towards the girl, smiling in appreciation.
”Thank you. I hope I’m not a bother.”
Sylvester added, the smile melting from his face as he looked the girl over. She shook her head.
”No, sir, not at all.”
She explained, but he could tell that she did not quite mean it.
And so Sylvester returned to her mug. He slouched over it, draining his mug sip by sip. He hoped that the girl decided to remain around so that she could fill his mug again. He needed much more if he planned to satisfy his thirst.

[Lan]

For the winglets E'an and Kaslimeph, the day had been a standard day. They had lessons in flying together, of course, and it had put them both in a good mood. Finally it seemed like they were achieving something together, and soon they would fight together to protect the world. It was an exciting thought, one that managed to resolve the occasional dispute between them for days. Usually messing with each other, the two managed to appear as right partners for the time being. It was nice... even if E'an missed the occasional squabble.

There would be no lessons tomorrow, so E'an decided she wanted to celebrate. She hadn't had anything to drink for quite some time, mostly from Kaslimeph's brooding and threatening to turn her in. But, considering they were finally getting along, the winglet decided she could go out and have at least one drink. Surely Kas would grant her that perk? Still in clothes dirtied from the day's work in the gardens, she let her hair down and made sure it curved over the side of her face in an attractive manner. One never knew who one might meet when they went for a drink late at night, after all.

Where do you think you're going? It's late. We should sleep to be ready for the day. Kaslimeph's intrusive voice came in, displeased. He snorted and moved his head to stare at his bonded with one great eye.

"C'mon, Kas... Just goin' for a drink. I think we earned tha' much, right?" Her lazy drawl returned as she jammed her feet into boots and moved to walk out of their shared room. The blue, however, had other plans. He slipped his tail in front of the door and gave a terrible grunt. No. She was going to stay inside whether she likes it or not. E'an rolled her eyes and turned to face the great brute who had for a while been so cooperative. "Hey! I haven't had anythin' to drink for a while... Not after tha' fit ya threw after the last time." She stared her unruly partner right in the eye, daring him to challenge her. "So I'm gonna go down, have myself a drink, and then come back... Probably. So just... just... move!" Her fists were placed commandingly on her hips and she stared Kaslimeph down as if her were her enemy himself. For a while he stared back, and then with a growl he gave up. His tail slipped from in front of the doorway and without another word he went back to his couch to brood in silence.


E'an entered the kitchens without fear of being discovered. She wasn't haughty, though, and had not the swagger of a person who took joy in "breaking the law". Rather, she felt like she belonged here. As a guard she had frequented local pubs and as a winglet she was no less out-of-character with the stinginess a rider was supposed to have. She liked to drink. She liked to get stupid and do things normal people would regret the next morning. If others couldn't accept that, then they couldn't accept her... and that was just fine and peachy by her standards.

However, as she made her way to the back where to liquor was usually kept, she ran into something--rather someone who she didn't quite expect. For a second she stopped, staring at him somewhat unbelieving. Why, would you look at that! It couldn't be him, could it? Nope... beat up and scabbed... a mug of ale in one hand... there was no other person it could be. Well, that certainly just made her life at the Eyrie more interesting. She sidled up to the counter, taking care to just be out of the man's peripheral vision, and with one finger motioned for the girl in the room to come over.

"I'll have what he's havin', if ya please." She droned in a monotone, flicking her head to get a stray lock of hair out of her face. After she saw the girl move toward the back, E'an glanced over at the man that had at one point been an interesting part of her life. Damn, he really did look like a mess. No wonder he felt the need for a drink. Huh, she chuckled with one burst of breath, shaking her head as if to rid herself from some weird dream. Well, this could be fun. She slipped closer to her old friend, focusing her attention back on the girl that had returned with a similar mug of ale. E'an took it and thanked her kindly before taking a large swig.

"How far behind am I, Sly?" She asked in that same, deadpan voice. While her inflection was ambiguous, it was clear she meant more than just how many drinks. The brunette set her mug down on the table in front of them and looked over at her old friend with an amused half-smile. Switching hands for the ale, she placed her now free hand on his shoulder, at first seeming intimate but then turning him to get a better look at the damage. While E'an could be a bit distant, when it came to someone she had been intimate with once before, she never lost that touch of closeness even if they hadn't seen each other for years. Some might find it a little odd, but E'an could indeed be the touchy-feely sort. It just took the right person. "And what happened to yer face? Don't needta kill anyone, do I?"

[Kat]

Even though Sylvester knew someone else walked into the kitchen, he did not acknowledge that person’s presence. He did not want to be told that he could not drink, and it seemed to him that it would be best just to pretend like he absolutely belonged in all circumstances. Perhaps he was too worried about the situation—perhaps no one would blink an eye at the sight of a candidate drinking, but Sylvester did not want to risk being told he could not drink. He needed the drink. Even out of the corner of his eyes, Sylvester could not see the figure of the person, which made him or her easy to ignore. The person, though, stared at Sylvester. He could feel the other person’s gaze on his back, the attention making him uncomfortable. He drank deeply from the mug again, trying to cover his face with the mug for a long period of time to avoid the gaze. When the woman spoke, though, Sylvester’s attention immediately jerked towards her, his gaze scrabbling across the counter until he reached the sight of E’an’s form. He stared at her outright, then, his eyes linger on her face in surprise. He had heard rumors that Elan had ended up at the Eyrie, after she up and vanished from the Chydyn guard, but he had not entirely believed them. He was not sure where he thought she went, because from what he knew to her, the guard defined her, but he had not realized that going to the Eyrie was a true option. Now, of course, with himself searched and his brother bonded, Sylvester was learning that the Eyrie truly did capture people and steal them away from their lives.

Sylvester only eyed her, his eyes tired but now alert. He was not exactly sure what to say to her, and he liked that the sight of her reminded him of other places with a wave of home-brought nostalgia. He had always really liked Elan, even after she ended their one night fling. It was unusual for Sylvester to return to romantic partners, especially ones who ended their relationship. And even more unusual for Sylvester to befriend a girl who had ended a relationship with him, but Elan was special. And they had been pretty good friends at one point. Now that he saw her, Sylvester realized how much he had missed her. He should have tried to track her down sooner, but then again, Sylvester could barely keep track of his own life, and so the lives of other people tended to be lost to him.
”Elan, I heard a rumor that you were taken here, but I didn’t really believe it.”
Sylvester said. His face had returned to looking at his mug, and when he addressed her, Sylvester did not look up. His voice too, sounded quite apathetic, but he did not feel that way at all. In fact, his eyes danced with excitement at seeing her, even if he made sure that she could not see his expression. As she got closer to him, Sylvester grinned into the mug he held.

The man listened to her as she spoke to him, but he spent a few seconds trying to decide how he wanted to respond to her, so he used the last swig of ale as an excuse not to speak. When he drained the mug, he slapped it against the table, and he tapped the top of it and gestured to the kitchen girl. She understood what this meant, and she bussed the mug away while Sylvester scowled at her. This meant he had to say something to Elan.
“You are now only down one drink,”
Sylvester paused, but in the end, he had decided not to say anything else. He could not find a way to explain the past year or so of his life that he had missed. He knew that he had to give her something, because otherwise she might pester him for answers. He shrugged his shoulders and he turned to her, a small smile across his mouth. He was glad to see her, and he could not hide that fact, even if his voice did not reflect it.
“I had to come show my brother I was still alive. Seeing you is an added bonus.”
Even though Sylvester assumed she would not return, the kitchen girl appeared carrying a full mug of ale. Sylvester smiled, clearly glad to see the mug, and nodded at the girl in appreciation.

To answer E’an’s next question, Sylvester’s smile increased. He gestured casually at his face, and shook his head.
”What, this mess? It’s not a big deal—I’m hardly damaged, and I have to say, I was distracted, otherwise the bastard never would have been able to land the punch.”
He then raised a dark brow in E’an’s direction, before he sipped at his full mug of ale.
”’sides, this was one of the few times I was hit for something I didn’t do. I feel like it sets a record.”
Sylvester explained. He sipped at his drink, so that he hid the large smile on his face. It was true as well, most of the time, Sylvester earned every punch which landed on his face, but today, it was a slightly different story. Sylvester was still confused about what had happened at all. Perhaps now that he was so thin and sickly in appearance, he looked like an easy target, and that was not an image Sylvester wanted to project. It would make his life much more difficult than it had been before.

[Lan]

E'an laughed at the statement of rumors. That's right. She had almost forgotten that rumors about her weren't uncommon in her home city of Chydyn. For the most part she had stayed out of trouble in the Eyrie... or at least no one heard about what trouble she got into. The occasional drunk night out in the garden wasn't that big of a deal, though, right? It wasn't like she was making it her mission in life to sleep with everyone she laid eyes on or something ridiculous of the sort. She removed her hand from his shoulder and smiled down into her mug, not replying, and took another swig that drained over a fourth of its contents now. It was nice, drinking with someone she knew and somewhat cared about. That hadn't happened since before she was whisked away to the Eyrie. She mostly drank alone now, a pitiful sort of state to be in. But perhaps she wouldn't have to anymore? It was a comforting thought. Funny how one can miss someone and not even notice it until they're right there again. The brunette glanced over at her beat-up friend again and gave a subtle little smirk at his count.

"Only one, eh? Well, aren't I lucky?" With a raise of her glass, as if to toast, she chugged the rest of it down with a fervor that she had gained from spending so many years in and out of taverns and bars. With a nice thud she slammed it back down on the table and, like the man beside her, called the rather nice made over without words to supply her with a refill. Okay, so she lied to Kas. It wouldn't be the first time. He was probably asleep anyway. What he didn't know right now wouldn't kill him. As the maid refilled her glass she smiled politely, albeit a bit lopsided, as Sly recanted why he was here. Made sure his brother wasn't dead, eh? Well, Sil'us was much better than that. Word was that he had impressed a black. He'd be in a commanding position soon. E'an could only imagine how much that made Sylvester's skin crawl. Soon a refilled mug was placed back into her hands and E'an nodded appreciatively. With that the maid took off, to somewhere undetermined, perhaps to come back or perhaps not. E'an didn't really care. She always felt odd having someone listening in to her conversations anyway.

The winglet had been about to take a nice sip of her drink when her friend claimed that his face wasn't "a big deal". She spit back into her mug, scoffing at the idea of him being "hardly damaged". His face looked like it was about to bleed all over again at any moment. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, somewhere between amusement and wanting to knock some sense into him. To humor him she listened to the rest of his story, containing an eyeroll at the mention of it not being his fault. Sure. And she was a straight virgin. Deciding what to say to him, she took a few sips of her ale before setting the mug down on the counter again.

"If you're hardly damaged, I'm a shardin' gray simourv." She leaned forward, looking up at his face to inspect his wounds. "Seriously, Sly? I wouldn't be surprised if a scab jus' dropped off an' seasoned yer drink." Her eyebrows raised and then she leaned back again, facing him with one elbow on the counter and one hand placed lazily in her lap. After staring at him for a while, though, her expression softened and a smile once against taunted the corner of her lips. Even in as bad a state he was in, she did miss the fool terribly. She was glad he was here... especially here having a drink with her. It was a custom she had not been able to partake in as of late.

"Well, if you were hit for somethin' ya didn't do, maybe it'll make up for somethin' ya didn't get hit for. The stars know we've both made enough trouble around tha' city just on our own... My trouble just happened'ta be more... acceptable." E'an smiled devilishly, covering her impish expression up moment later with another drink from her mug. If anyone around here knew about her past sexual and drunken exploits, it would be Sly. He was one of the victims of the former, and was a frequent co-conspirator in the latter. After paying attention to her mug for a while, she set her gaze on her friend again. Why did he have to look good even when he was practically oozing blood from his scabbed face? She shook it from her mind.

"Anyway... I guess I'll let the guy get away this time. But if I see ya all beat up again, somethin's gonna go down, ya hear?" She kicked his chair playfully to make sure he had, indeed, heard, then put her efforts into downing her second mug before him. After a nice round of chugging, she set her second empty glass on table and wiped the straggling liquid from the outside of her mouth with one swipe of her hand. E'an could feel the warming, fuzzy effects of the liquid already beginning to take hold. It was nice. It meant she wouldn't have to think so much soon. With a contented sigh, she raised an eyebrow at her companion.

"Wha'd'ya say we snag one of those half-empty bottles and have ourselves a party?" There was a daring gleam in her eye as she gestured toward where the alcohol was kept with a curt nod of her head. "After you catch up, that is..."

[Kat]

Even though he tried not to, Sylvester’s gaze drifted until he could see E’an out of the corner of his eyes. He kept his gaze off of her, looking instead directly in front of him, but he saw her form as she drank from the corners of his eyes. She was a bit blurry around the edges, but it worked. When she spoke to him, though, Sylvester turned towards her, which allowed her to get closer to him, to inspect him. He had not expected this, although he did not know why, and he had to fight his initial reaction to back away from her. Instead, Sylvester held still, and when E’an leaned back, he did too, positioning himself in a similar way on the back of the chair with his elbow on the counter. It was not unusual for Sylvester’s face to be damaged in this way, and he was surprised E’an seemed so worried about it. Although, he did look like a right mess, with his face swollen, and he supposed that while he was used to seeing himself in a similar state, perhaps other people were not. And it had been a long time since E’an had seen Sylvester, so maybe she had just forgotten the rather rough way Sylvester tended to present himself.
”God, that’d be disgustin’, and it would ruin my drink.”
Sylvester added, and his face remained fixed in a neutral expression for a few seconds, before his face burst into a large, excited smile. His smile was quite lopsided, because the side of his face with the bruise and the gash could not lift as far as the normal side of his face.

As E’an continued to speak, Sylvester hid his small chuckle in his mug, which he gulped at enthusiastically. He was halfway through when he placed the mug back down. He carefully wiped the foam off of the corners of his mouth, using a light touch to prevent the scab from peeling off. The dried blood, wet with the beer, transferred onto his white shirt, and he glared at the new brownish-red stain on his cuff. It was better, at least, than the large smear of brown blood on the side of the sleeve of his arm, which was an ugly and unfortunate mar on his personal appearance.
”That’s the way I see it. That’s why I didn’t retaliate more when it happened.”
Sylvester explained, and his tone of voice, light and jovial, conveyed that he was joking about the reasons he did not retaliate. The truth of the matter was that he had been distracted and also a bit physically weak. He did not need to convey those thoughts to E’an. It was not that he minded her knowing about his faults, because she knew quite a bit about him already, and he had nothing left to be humiliated about. Rather, however, that answering in those ways would only illicit more questions that he did not want to answer. Maybe he would explain his past few months to her later—when he was ready.

At E’an’s comment about their antics, Sylvester’s smile grew, enough so that he felt the cut on his lip stretch and tense. It stung a little, even though it still did not split open, and for that, Sylvester was grateful.
”Our trouble was worth every black eye, love. But now you’re making me wonder if I should have gotten a uniform to increase our opportunities.”
Sylvester responded, and his eyes danced playfully, oddly invigorated despite their usual tired appearance. He never could have gotten a position at the guard. He was too opposed to authority, to rules, and while in many ways, E’an and him were similar, they also differed in some ways. She always wanted to be a member of the guard, so she behaved enough at least to remain in the guard. Sly, well, he was not suited to any sort of control; other people lording over him made him nervous, frightened, and angry. He had always preferred her like this, though, not looking like she was affiliated with the guard—unattached. He was glad that she had come in—that they had found each other. It was nice to find someone he knew in this unfamiliar place, at least, someone who was not his brother and was not mad at him.

”I promise, dearest Elan, you will have your chance to beat someone on my behalf.”
Sylvester announced with a small chuckle. He was always getting beaten up one way or another, although usually he was involved in the incitement of the incident. His reply was pretty immediate, occurring at the same time as her kick, which he reacted to in a dramatic manner, gripping the sides of the chair as if he was worried he was going to fall out of it.
”I’ll make sure I get beat up by someone exciting, so you can have fun with it.”
Sylvester announced, and he watched E’an drain her mug with a sigh. So she was going to beat him—that’s how it was going to be. He did not yet drain his own mug. He figured she should have the pleasure of out drinking him in this instant, because he could absolutely catch up with her without an issue.

At her suggestion, both of Sylvester’s eye brows rose, the excitement of her words flashing across his face and in his eyes. Oh, what a temptress she was. Since she challenged him, Sylvester drained his mug with a certain ferociousness, gulping down the beer. He then slammed the empty mug on the table, his smile smirking across his face.
”You drive a hard bargain, but I think I’ll take you up on it. Can we drink it here, or do we need to find somewhere else?”
Sylvester was not sure about the drinking rules in the Eyrie, so he was not sure if they were going to have to sneak around. He kind of liked the idea of doing something against the rules of this place. He had already decided that it was a totalitarian establishment, and he wanted to fuck with the system. On the other hand, he was not sure about the logistics of leaving, because in situations like this Sylvester would usually offer his own living corridors. Unfortunately, right now, Sylvester had a roommate he had not yet met, so he could not offer his own room. Had she been another girl, he would have worried that his statement sounded too forwards, carrying a certain connotation that he did not necessarily mean, but with E’an, his situation was different, because they had long ago passed the point of such veiled innuendos. She was, though, ruggedly pretty, Sylvester noted, he had forgotten how pretty. Eyebrows raised, he shelled his body towards the liquor cabinet in question, but his eyes lingered on E’an’s face.

[Lan]

E'an chortled heartily as her friend played along, saying he would get in trouble with someone "exciting" so she could have fun wounding whoever it was. Well, she doubted that. As much as she loved to party, she was not the type to have fun by beating someone up. It was not usually an enjoyable experience, as it was tied to harsh emotions that were not pleasing in the slightest. While she liked to throw her weight around and seem like a tough chick, it took a lot to get her to the point where she would physically beat someone down. Usually, it was someone hurting a person she cared about. Perhaps Sly was fortunate in that.

"Can we drink here, or do we need to find somewhere else?" Usually the first to jump to conclusions, E'an knew Sly held no ulterior motives behind his words... or, at least not any more than she did. She hummed in a low pitch, rumbling in her throat as she stroked her chin as if searching for some non-existent beard. Truly, they probably shouldn't be getting very drunk here in the kitchens. That was reserved only for those parties the Eyrie liked to have on special occasions. Like graduation, for example... after what had happened at the hatching celebration, E'an could only imagine what the graduation party was going to be like. Hopefully duties wouldn't start the next morning, for half the Eyrie would be nursing a hangover if she knew how these people like to party. However, the mechanics of finding a proper place to get totally pissed with more than one person was unknown to her at this point. Usually she went to the garden, since Kaslimeph was totally against having such drunkenness in his sight, but with Sly about it meant things might be different than just a solitary night with a bit of alcohol. She didn't want to be too far away from her bed, in case she didn't feel up to walking all the way back. At the moment she didn't have a roommate, as Kaslimeph was one of the two largest blues of the clutch, but with another batch of eggs on the sands it probably wouldn't last. Maybe she should take advantage of such privacy while she could?

Well... perhaps it'd be a decision best left to Sly. She wasn't sure how he would handle being that close to a simourv while out of his wits. Before she met Kas, she certainly wasn't overly fond of the creatures. As he rose to go get the bottle E'an kept her eyes on him just as he kept his gaze firmly planted on her. It was an easy relationship, so to speak, the way they acted around each other. After sharing a bed with someone there really wasn't much else to be awkward about. He was still attractive to her, even all beat up and bloodied... and something told her he thought of her fondly as well. But it didn't mean anything was necessary beyond that. They were good friends, who had had a good night... and while E'an had harbored a crush on him for a while she hadn't seen any reason to let herself encroach on territory beyond that.

"I usu'lly just go down'ta the gardens and make my peace there... but I've also got m'own room, if that's more to your liking." She sighed at the end of her statement, tearing her gaze away to watch a tiny insect crawl up the stone and clay wall. Her mind didn't fret about how her statement might seem. Like Sylvester, she knew their relationship had gone beyond such frivolities. When he returned she stood and made her way to his side, slipping her smaller yet not at all weaker form under his arm so that it hung across her shoulders. It was a smooth, fluid action as if practiced many a time with both him and other men. Finally comfortable, the brunette looked up at him and grinned cheekily. She definitely knew exactly what she was doing, guiding him out of the kitchens as she wrapped an arm about his waste, being careful in case there were any cracked ribs.

"Where to, m'dear?" She asked just as they got to the exit, pausing a moment for him to decide where she should lead him. He could probably take the lead too, if he so desired. But E'an was feeling playful at the moment, and she probably wouldn't give up her position of dominance without a (perhaps somewhat puerile) fight.

[Kat]

At first, the concept of going to E’an’s room appealed to Sylvester enough that at her suggestion, he smiled. It was the ideal situation, one where they could both behaved as they pleased, and Sylvester nodded, the dimples blooming on cheeks. He felt his lip start to peel open again, so his hand drifted to his mouth to check if any blood ran down his chin. That would be disgusting, and Sylvester was not about to disgust E’an. He still wanted her to like him, in a reserved way, because he was fond of her even though he knew that he should not be anymore. But something about his friend’s words puzzled Sylvester, and after he smile, his gaze shifted to a more critical one. An eyebrow raised, Sylvester pushed himself a bit closer to E’an.
”But if you have your own room, why do you go to the gardens? If you don’t mind me askin’.”
While Sylvester should have suspected some sort of underhandedness, but he did not really—he was just a bit confused by the contradiction he noted. He would be fine in the gardens, he supposed, if E’an preferred it there, although it was a bit cold outside, now, even in his jacket. One of the unexpected side effects of his recent weight loss was that the man always felt cold now, without the insulation he once had. It was, of course, a reason on a long list of reasons of why he needed to gain the weight back. The process proved harder than expected, though, and he had only been well enough to even attempt to think about his weight for a few weeks now—two, maybe three.

When E’an touched him, Sylvester reacted in a startled manner, his body becoming rigid for a second. He did not expect such a play yet, and the brief moment of surprise registered on his face. He relaxed after an instant, though, allowing E’an to embrace him in that way, submitting to her touch not entirely, but enough so that it would be clear to her that he enjoyed her presence, especially after he tensed up so immediately. With the arm now draped over her shoulders, Sylvester tightened his grip a bit, so that he was pressing E’an into his body instead of just allowing his arm to drape over her.
”You just had to touch me, eh?”
He questioned, as he turned his lips into a large grin, looking down at her. He wondered if he should warn her about his wound, but he decided he was not ready to reveal his weakness so overtly. If it became an issue, he would deal with it. He would let her lead him, at least for now. It sounded like quite the plan.
”Honestly, love, which do you prefer?”
Sylvester questioned as he smiled down at E’an. He certainly had no idea where to go.

[Lan]

"Oh... Kas just usually throws a fit." E'an responded to his first question with a wave of her hand, spitting the sentence out as if it didn't really matter. She still wasn't sure how he'd react to her having impressed a simourv. Together they had cursed simourv riders in bars and during late night to early morning chats. They were two of the largest antagonists against rider kind. What would he think now that she was one of them? She certainly couldn't believe it most of the time herself.

When he twinged, she leaned away a bit in alarm. Right. He had been beaten up not too long ago. From the looks of things, probably earlier that day. She bit her lip and managed a nervous chuckle. "Sorry," She replied, grinning not-so-sheepishly up at him as she enjoyed the tighter grip he placed on her. It felt nice, being in his arms. There were some nights she wondered why she ever left. For some reason she found herself dreaming of sleeping in his arms that night, but she tried to shake the thought out of her head. No. They were friends. They were going to go get their drink on and that would be that. No flings. No long nights. Just a quiet evening with some beer and old friends. Surely no one could object to that?

"Honestly, love, which do you prefer?"

The brunette smirked and glanced at the doorframe as she did come calculations in her head. Surely most of the other winglets would be asleep by now, along with Kas. However, she felt bad about just throwing Sly in with the blue without any warning. Sighing, her eyes went unfocused as she pressed her mind against Kaslimeph's. Fortunately, he wasn't totally asleep. She smiled unwittingly.

Hey, Kas... you asleep?

Not really. Why?

Mind if I bring a friend over? We're just going to drink a bottle and then go to sleep, I promise.

I don't like you drinking.

And I don't like you not liking me drinking. C'mon? Nothing bad will happen. You'll be there to protect me. E'an smiled wider as she waited for his response. Nothing like stroking a male's ego to get him to agree with what you're trying to do. There was a pause.

Fine.

And you won't tell Canph?

Why would I tell a red anything?

And you'll be cool?

When am I not?

The last part sounded iffy, but she'd take it. At the very least, the giant blue Kaslimeph was always true to his word. She turned her smile up to her friend, eyes bright from more than just the alcohol. Without a word, she led him out of the kitchens and toward the Winglet barracks. Halfway there she cautioned him to be quiet, so as not to wake her neighbors, and after looking around for a spying red, ducked into the Winglets' Barrack and made the short walk down the hall to her room.

---

Once they got to the doorway she paused, for a second double-guessing this idea to bring him here. He'd find out eventually, sure, but E'an wasn't quite sure she wanted Sly to know about this now. Taking a deep breath, she let them both into the room and then, removing herself from Sly's grasp, closed the door quietly behind them. It was a fairly large room, although the only thing that resembled a chair was her cot in the corner. Back in the shadows the "sleeping" form of Kaslimeph lie on his couch, although she was sure that he was watching them quietly. Without a breath of a word she made her way to her nightstand and, after fumbling for matches, lit the oil lamp to light up the space. Some of the light hit the blue feathers of the bulk in the corner, and the simourv recoiled instinctively. For a moment he lifted his tail, looking with dark eyes at the form of his rider's "friend". Then, with a snort, he dropped his tail again so that it was curled back around his eyes. Whatever happened, he certainly didn't want to see it.

"Ignore him... he's not in a good mood right now," E'an told Sly, biting her lip through her smile that followed. Sitting on her bed, she gestured for him to sit next to her, although she wasn't entirely sure whether he would follow through after seeing a giant blue bird glaring at him.

[Kat]

It took a second for E’an’s words to register, but as soon as Sylvester put the pieces together, his face immediately fell. In fact, he looked something terribly, with a destroyed expression crossing his face and combining with his bruised and swollen facial features to make the man look that much more pathetic. A simourv. Elan, his Elan, who he drank with and cursed the riders for ruining the sanctity of the guard was a rider? Was anything holy and good in the world, or did the simourvs insist on indoctrinating all of Sylvester’s closest comrades to make them stiff and boring. A part of Sylvester felt immediately guilty about his own selfishness, as he knew, despite his nighttime complaints with his old friend that the simourv riders were incredibly important. A part of Sylvester understood that the riders protected the masses from the xymokoxi, and that had riders been around when his parents died, they may have never disappeared. But despite this knowledge, Sylvester disliked the simourvs for snatching away his friends. But that was not it. It was not a hate for the beasts, a hate even that his friends bonded, but rather, it was an intense pain in Sylvester at the knowledge that they were able to protect people in a way he would never be able to help others. Sylvester had long ago accepted that he would amount to nothing in the world, that he would never have himself together enough to save anyone, even if a part of him wanted to be useful. It was tempting, in a sick way, to want to save people from the lizards who destroyed his life. In another lifetime, Sylvester would do that, join the guard, and make a difference. Instead, he was only good for causing trouble, a detriment to society, a mistake.

At E’an’s comment, Sylvester flashed her a grin. It moved across his face, a sly, coy smile.
”God, not a problem, love. I like when you touch me.”
Sylvester replied, aware of the slightly less clean implications of his words. He didn’t miss a beat, though, and he made absolutely no sign that he was bothered by his own forwardness. He would let E’an interpret his words as she would. He was sure she would be okay with him. They were friends, and they knew each other well. He allowed her to lead him to her room, letting her take control, because Sylvester saw no reason to disallow her actions. He enjoyed being submissive sometimes, if the moment allowed, and he had no idea where they were going.

As they reached E’an’s room, however, Sylvester realized that they were near his brother’s lodging. The people who were bonded must live her, Sylvester thought, and so he braced himself for meeting E’an’s chick. He imagined that he would meet E’an’s chick in a similar manner that he met his brother’s Restaph. So when Sylvester entered E’an’s room and saw the huge bulk of Kaslimeph, Sylvester gasped. The creature was huge, why, it had to be full sized. A hiss of air passed into Sylvester’s mouth as he sucked in. Then he tightened his lips for a second, a small line of blood creeping down his chin, as Sylvester’s eyes remained fixed on the blue simourv.
”Damnit, E’an, he’s huge. I though’ he’d look like Silvanus’s Restaph, but God.”
Sylvester managed to speak as he joined E’an on the bed. Sylvester only let the shock pass across his face for a second, though. He replaced it quickly with a more neutral expression, and then a smile, as he sat next to his friend.
”He’s not goin’ to hurt me, is he? I think he’s glaring at me.”
Sylvester replied as he slipped closer to E’an. The boy even managed to keep his gaze on the woman and away from the large hulk of blue in the corner. Out of sight—well, almost out of mind. At least, Sylvester was trying.

[Lan]

"God, not a problem, love. I like it when you touch me." Had E'an been the easily embarrassed type, she might have blushed at the comment. As it was, though, she was not all that easily embarrassed around Sly. They had an understanding, albeit a flirty understanding, that was easy and fun. So she merely smiled that grin where she made it obvious she knew of the dual meaning the statement could have and left it at that. Damn, she forgot how fun Sly could be. She made a mental note to never forget it again.

At his exclamation about Kaslimeph's size, however, she recoiled slightly. However, she couldn't blame him. Larger than almost any blue in the Eyrie, he had grown to a tremendous size in the year or so she had known him. Now that she really looked at him, she supposed he was big. And Sylvester's comment was warranted. So much had changed since she had last seen him. So very, very much... it was overwhelming just to remember. "It's been a long time," was all she replied, although there was a tinge of her in her voice as she began to almost feel guilty about bringing him here. Guilt. That was something E'an hadn't felt in a while. Why did Sylvester have to bring back that silly emotion? Coughing, she turned her attention back to her friend, taking the liberty of removing the bottle of alcohol from his hand as he spoke again.

"Nah," The brunette brushed it off with a wave of her free hand, "He ain' gonna hurt you. And he glares at ev'ryone. I think it's his favorite way'ta communicate with the world." She gave Kaslimeph a wink and he turned one-hundred-eighty degrees to face the opposite way. Well, if the scared boy didn't want him looking at him, he certainly wouldn't do it!... much. Although, Kaslimeph thought he was perfectly sized. He wasn't huge. He was proportionate! Not that he'd tell Sylvester that. Bloody chicken. With a snort he draped his tail in front of his face again and adjusted himself as if going to sleep again. Naturally, though, he'd probably eavesdrop a bit longer.

"Restaph'll get e'en bigger, y'know?" E'an informed as she struggled to open the bottle that had been re-stoppered. After a faint grunt, the cork came out with a light pop and rolled across the floor, and E'an raised the glass with a smirk to Sly before downing a swig. Then, in true ladylike fashion, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and passed on the glass bottle to her dear old friend, exhaling and grinning as if very pleased with herself. However, before he could take the glass she pulled it away, raising an eyebrow at him and grinning even wider.

"And I'll always be Elan t'you... You of all people should know that." With a softer smile she finally handed over the whiskey to her good friend, after which she leaned over and gave him a soft and gentle kiss on the cheek where he wasn't as completely bruised and scabbed. His beat-up appearance didn't phase her for a second. He was still her good old Sly and she was still the same old Elan. While she might have a different name to most other people, an old friend seemed to have certain privileges to her casual birth name. Also, if Sly didn't feel comfortable using the honorific (which, if she knew her Sly, he probably wasn't), she wanted to let him know he could call her whatever he wanted... so long as he said it with a damn pretty smile on his face.

[Kat]

Sylvester was not sure to what time span E’an referred. Did she mean a long time since she bonded to her simourv, or a long time since she last saw Sylvester? He could not comment on the first length of time, as he had no idea what to say about that, and he did not have much to say about the second length of time, either. It had been a mistake to allow their friendship to slip away, and he regretted it now, not that he would admit that at his current stage of sobriety.
“And a lot has happened, I’m afraid.”
Was all Sylvester replied to the girl, with a small shrug of his shoulders. Clearly, she had a substantially life altering experience while he was away, and he had fallen in love, gotten in a bar fight, and almost died. It had been a long few years, really, even though he had not done anything as dramatic as bonding to a simourv. His brother had, though, which was something in Sylvester’s mind, especially since it altered Sylvester’s relationship with Silvanus irreparably. Sylvester and his brother would never be as close as they had been, and although that fact crushed Sylvester terribly, he was beginning to believe that it was a good thing. After Sylvester recovered from the shock of realizing he had been replaced as the most important individual to his brother, Sylvester began to contemplate the issue further, as he drank in the kitchens and wandered the Eyrie. This way, Silvanus would not have to worry about Sylvester as much, as the simourv would keep the younger twin occupied. Furthermore, if the brother’s were closer, Sylvester assumed Silas would start to feel less and less responsible for Sylvester, a fact which would alleviate a lot of pain for Silas. No matter how hard Sylvester tried to keep Silvanus separate from the elder brother’s antics, somehow, Silvanus always ended up anxious and worried, angry, frustrated. It was a horrible toll on the younger twin, and Sylvester was glad that now they entered a new stage of their lives where that might not be as integral in their relationship. Of course, all of this justification was only enough to make Sylvester feel a bit better. He still felt quite put out.

E’an’s next comment made Sylvester turn his attention away from his own internality and towards the large creature in the corner. Where as his brother’s simourv had been aloof, but kind, this creature seemed—hostile. And even with E’an’s addendum, Sylvester was pretty sure the simourv’s anger was directed at him. The simourv even seemed to turn away from Sylvester in disgust, and Sylvester definitely noticed the hostility. Even though the chick had been aloof, Resaph had been kind and welcoming, but this blue simourv glowered.
”I don’t know, Elan, I think it’s me. I’ve gotten nicer looks from men whose women I slept with.”
Sylvester responded, and he made a point of keeping the blue simourv trapped in his gaze. After a second, especially after the blue simourv turned away with disgust, Sly noted, the man’s attention drifted back to E’an. It was no use watching a grumpy bird. This simourv would just have to get over it. Sly was not going to be pushed around by an ornery parrot.

At E’an’s next comment, Sylvester nodded and then shrugged. He knew that Restaph was only a chick, and that soon the black simourv would tower over everyone like Alianph who flew Sylvester to the Eyrie. There were other black simourv, Sylvester had heard, but he had yet to see any of them. He wondered if they were all as big as his search simourv. The black Alainph did seem so huge, and Restaph was still quite little, and with interest, Sylvester noted that while the blue simourv in the corner was big, huge, he did not measure up to the bulk of the black. Alainph was nicer, too.
”Yeah, as big as G’len’s Alainph, I assume. That the colors are pretty regular, size wise, at least. But Restaph is pretty small now, in comparison. And I assumed you and Silas bonded at the same time, but I guess not.”
Sylvester responded, and for good measure, he shrugged again. He did not really care about these simourv creatures, but they were interesting in some ways. He was morbidly curious.

E’an’s next comment made Sylvester lift his head a bit. It was nice to hear the rejection of her rider name, even if it was only for him. In a way, her words made Sylvester feel special, wanted, and not quite as left out and abandoned as the day had made him feel. He was glad that he could have something in his life which had not been corrupted by the simourv, even if it was just a name. When E’an kissed his cheek, Sylvester realized that he was more touched by her words and actions that he realized. His face turned an uncharacteristic shade of red, which was visible even under the mat of bruises. Normally, with anyone else, Sylvester would have taken the opportunity to kiss the girl, aggressively and dominating, but with E’an, he restrained, only turning his head a bit as if he thought about kissing her lips but restrained himself. He wanted to kiss her. Sylvester’s lips tingled at the thought of it, and yet he also did not want to take what had not been offered to him. He was not about to ruin what they had, not yet at least, so early into their reunion—so early in the night.
”I’ll call you whatever I damn please, Elan.”
Sylvester grumbled, and although he tried to make his tone controlling and defensive, his slow grumble sounded downright sheepish. He breathed in, trying to wipe the blush from his cheeks, and flashed E’an another, lopsided grin.