A Late Snack [open]

[Kilnarak]

Late-afternoon found N'raan in the Eyrie's kitchens, for all intents and purposes alone. Sure, there were still cooks and maidservants bustling about, but the looming red presence of Teimoph was absent. After their tasks for the day were finished, Teimoph had eaten his fill and then curled up to take up the most of N'raan's bed - muzzily ordering His to nap as well before succumbing to sleep. While he had briefly considered following his simourv's 'advice,' N'raan quickly discarded the idea. He was tired, but not that tired - more so, he was hungry and a touch bored. He hadn't really eaten much over the course of the day, seeing to his simourv's needs more often than his own - although he had stolen a few tender scraps from Teimoph's dinner, chewing the raw meat more so to take the edge off his hunger than for actual sustenance. And while he'd had plenty of socializing with his Teimoph, he was starting to miss human contact; the red made it difficult at the best of times, more concerned with keeping His to himself, and at the worst of times he was standoffish and threatening.

After Teimoph had fallen asleep, the dark-skinned youth had changed into more comfortable attire - he had taken to wearing his hunting leathers throughout most of the day, as it was easier to clean the blood from Teimoph's feedings off. But the leathers were heavy, and while he moved easily enough in them, it was uncomfortable wearing them all the time. After a bit of searching for clean garments, N'raan had finally decided upon a long ruddy brown loincloth - broad enough not to be indecent, but slit up either side near to his waist - and a similarly colored but slightly darker mantle that fell just short of his waist. Both garments were made of abstractly patterned cloth - paler marks like a splattering of paint dotted the surface in a more or less symmetrical pattern, more densely placed about the center and growing more sparse toward the outer edges. A variety of beads trimmed both garments, clattering softly together when he moved. He finished the attire with sandals and the fluffy feather Teimoph had forced upon him some days ago, tied to the end of his braid.

N'raan had left his room quietly, not wanting to wake the red hatchling - the thoughts he felt drifting off from Teimoph were warm and soft and comfortable, unlike his usual mindset while awake. From the barracks his feet lead him unerringly to the kitchens, where he paused briefly to assess what was available. Many of the other denizens of the Eyrie had already taken their dinner, and thus the majority of the kitchen staff was currently cleaning up their leavings. There were still a few platters set out with picked-over food items on them, and after his brief survey of the tables, N'raan snatched one of these - the platter in question bearing a rather large chunk of shepherd's pie - and a still mostly full pitcher of ale, as well as one of the cast-off mugs.

He took these items over to one of the clearer tables to eat; while not particularly messy, neither was he particularly fastidious and his table-manners left a good deal to be desired. The crust-less meat-pie was quickly devoured, the platter left bare save for a few crumbly specks of potato. The ale, however, was proving to last him longer - he had decided, upon spying the pitcher, that he would work up a comfortable buzz (maybe a bit more) before deciding what else to do with his evening. However, now that the food was gone, he glanced toward the partially cleared table again - considering the other left-over scraps and whether he felt like getting up to procure more. Sure, he could have asked the cooks to prepare something fresh for him, however he saw no point in letting perfectly good food go to waste - there were certainly more left-overs than he would be able to eat, and he was struck suddenly by a sense of wastefulness. Of course, that wasn't his problem to fix; really, it just meant that there was more for him to take.

Absently nursing his second mug of ale, N'raan let his eyes wander over the room - lingering now and then over the maidservants. Some of them weren't so bad to look at, although the majority of them weren't to his tastes. He wondered briefly how such dalliances might work out now that he shared his room with a Teimoph - certainly the young red wouldn't approve. Perhaps he simply shouldn't bring anyone back to his room - they must have their own places to sleep, and if not there were certainly a good number of dark hallways and storerooms about, unused rooms...

[Kat]

Morgana had not gotten used to the life of the candidate yet, and she was, so far, greatly regretting her choice to leave her father and to join the stick-up-his-ass rider, K’ean in the Eyrie. She was not suited to such a stationary lifestyle, and no one had been particularly nice to her since she had arrived. She had only been in the Eyrie a day, of course, but so far she had yet to interact properly with her roommate, who seemed unusually depressed, and had not yet talked with anyone else who seemed interested in meeting her. The Eyrie was positively bustling, and everyone appeared to be constantly busy. She had been told that candidates had lessons, and that she would be forced to do chores, but no one had explained to her when and where these responsibilities would take place, and thus, so far, Morgana’s first day had been an absolute snooze. She had spent almost all her time tending to Hamlet, who was her only source of both normalcy and socialization. She had been attempting to expand the raven’s vocabulary to—well, some words, and thus had spent the entire day speaking to the bird. Her efforts had been completely fruitless, however; and he only squawked with pleasure as Morgana stroked his head with her finger. He enjoyed the attention, but his vocalization meant something else as well; he was hungry, and Morgana needed to find her bird some food.

Dressed in an older costume, a long, black dress dotted with golden stars, Morgana decided that she would take a trip to the kitchens. The wonderful thing about raven was that they ate pretty much anything. If Morgana could find the kitchens, then she could find food for Hamlet, who currently rubbed his head against her neck, from his position on her shoulder. His talons pulled at the black fabric of her dress, but the dark color hid many of the flaws, and the garment was old, which explained why she was wearing it for her day in her room doing nothing.
”I’m going to find you food soon, my pet.”
Morgana cooed to Hamlet, turning her head so that her lips moved against his feathers. Hamlet, and her affection for the bird, was the only reason she accepted the offer to become a candidate. She was not the kind of person who wanted the honor or the grandeur of being a candidate. She would much rather be a famous performer than a rider, she thought, or at least she would want that life if she had not previously owned Hamlet. That big red simourv reminded Morgana so much of her own gentle raven, her own feathery gentleman, that she wanted to have a companion so much greater than her Hamlet yet so similar. She would become a simourv rider, because she was destined to connect to a lovely simourv.

The kitchen was not particularly difficult to find. It was rather centrally located, and the smell of food still wafted through the near-by air. Morgana slipped silently inside, moving with her natural and trained grace. She found that there were still plates of food set out, despite the fact that the kitchen workers already had begun to clean. She thought the candidates were supposed to help cook and clean, but none of the people working looked at all like candidates. At least, that meant she was not accidently dodging duty. While Morgana was not the most zealous worker, she did not like the concept of ignoring requirements for her first impression. Then all the other candidates would hate her. Then all the riders would think she was lazy. Morgana was likable, and she wanted people to like her. This would be her home. Unlike her usual life, in which she could anger people and make bad impressions, only to flee to a new location, Morgana could not run. She had to deal with the manner in which people thought about her for the rest of her life. If she was not such a positive person, Morgana would find that fact absolutely daunting. But, she would survive. She was likable and cute, and she would most absolutely wrap the entire Eyrie around her fingers. She only needed a little bit of time to show people her outgoing and friendly personality.

The girl grabbed a tray of cooked vegetables with a slab of meat she thought Hamlet would enjoy, with one hand. Her other hand was encased within a thick cowhide glove made for falconers, but which Morgana used for Hamlet. He was a big bird, as large as many hawks, and his claws were rather harmful. She emerged from the kitchen doors into the dining hall, which seemed far too small to house all the riders, winglets, and candidates, but Morgana did not stop to ponder the room’s size. She was distracted by the sight of a man in rather interesting clothing—actually, everything about him was interesting. Morgana was intrigued. With a sultry slide, Morgana snagged a seat across the table from the man, her eyes scanning him over, even though her gaze remained steady and unmoving from the head of her bird. When she sat down, Morgana brightened, turned her head, and flashed the man a broad smile. She wished she was wearing lip color, but she had not put any on that day. At least the dress fit her well, and exposed enough of herself that she felt alluring, but then again, Morgana did not own a stitch of conservative or unflattering clothing.
”You don’t mind if I steal this seat, do you?”
Morgana questioned, her voice perky and bright. She moved her gloved arm so that her forearm was parallel to the table. As soon as her arm moved, Hamlet hopped down from her shoulder to her arm. Morgana’s gaze turned to her bird, who bent down to expose his neck to her. She scratched it affectionately, as she used her other hand to pull a chunk off of the slab of meat. It was soft enough that she could pull the fibers apart. If the man thought she was being disgusting or rude, he would not be worth even attempting to befriend. Cutting the meat was difficult with her occupied arm, and so she was forced to use her fingers.
”I’m Morgana, by the way. I would shake your hand, but I’m afraid my arm is occupied.”
Morgana announced. She lifted her arm a bit, not enough to disrupt the bird, but enough to draw attention to him. Morgana’s lips turned into a large smile, which exposed the gap between her two front teeth and made her gray eyes dance with amusement and excitement. Just the opportunity to greet people was thrilling. Morgana had done so little today, and she had not interacted with very many humans. She liked that at least she had the chance to attempt to communicate with someone else who was not small, beady-eyed, and covered in iridescent black feathers.

[zeis]

M'ari crept stealthily along the cavern leading toward the dining area, looking immediately guilty of something with his back pressed against the smoothed stone. A small bouquet of flowers was held protectively behind him as he stalked forward, inching his way toward the room. I wish you'd stop seeing Emily. Valenph sighed in his head, her voice simultaneously holding both disapproval and amusement. Just don't get caught by that man again. She warned, sounding quite like she had just given up on the issue and causing him to grin. I'll see him before he sees me, my love.

The green-rider paused at the entrance to the dining hall and peered cautiously around the corner, searching for any signs of the lusty servant girl or her jealous boyfriend. The man who had once blackened his eye was nowhere to be seen, and sadly.. neither was Emily. His face clouded with disappointment. And here he was all dressed up for her, and with flowers, the picture of rakish masculinity and thoughtfulness. He felt stood up even though they hadn't exactly agreed to meet. The girl was usually just here around this time of day. His bright green eyes searched the small group of faces assembled once more for her, before alighting on the two seated at one of the tables. Two young ladies he didn't know?! He'd have to remedy that.

His face broke into a grin for a split second, but was quickly swapped for a slightly miserable expression. He walked slowly and dejectedly over toward the tables where they sat, moving to hold the flowers in both hands, as though fussing over their health. The man lingered awkwardly near them for a second before venturing forward and clearing his throat. "Uh, excuse me, ladies." He interrupted as politely as possible, before asking with a hopeful and slightly confused voice. "Did a red-headed girl come through here at all? She's a serving maid, about yea high..." He estimated her height roughly, and glanced over his shoulder as if to check if she were coming through the door. "Name is Emily..."

He looked back at the two of them hopefully, and his act almost shocking in its sincerity. He was good at acting, and better at lying. Sadly he had a reputation for both, but neither of these girls knew that. At least he hoped.

[Fox]

L'nan was glad that when she had packed her traveling case, she had brought enough aprons to last out the bloody, messy affair that was Eoreph's feeding time. By the time the hatchling finished eating, the previously white material was spattered and smeared horrifically with blood and the girl rather thought she looked like something out of a horror story. Bloody clothes, arms plastered in blood up to the elbows, and stitches like picket fences adorning her calves... Yes, rather like the gruesome horror stories she had heard the neighbours' boys telling indeed. In hindsight, though, it was better than delivering a baby. Then, it wouldn't just be blood on her clothing. Tiredly, she heaved a sigh and almost immediately heard her stomach grumble angrily. The morning and afternoon had slipped away seemingly without Lea even noticing, and as a result of tending to her own simourv, the tawny-rider had forgotten all about feeding herself.

And that was how Lea eventually found herself making her slow, cautious way to the kitchens, leaning heavily on her walking stick now that post-feeding sleep had claimed her Eoreph. In the back of her mind, the winglet could feel the soft swirls of colour and contentment that made up the hatchling's dreams, and it lent a rather absent, contented smile to her face. She had cleaned herself up as best she could when in her rooms; discarding her apron but leaving on her still-clean dress and scrubbing her hands free of bull's blood. There was almost no visual evidence of her injuries, excepting the cast that bulked out her right sleeve and her limping gait.

When she eventually got there, it was plain that the more punctual citizens of Eyrie had come and gone. Few people remained in the hall besides the kitchen staff, but almost immediately Lea's brown eyes were drawn to the small group that were present. There were three of them. One man she recognised; the long blonde hair and odd style of dress were hard to miss. That would be Teimoph's winglet; Niraan, or whatever his name was now. Lea hesitated a moment when she saw him, though afterwards she mentally kicked herself for the show of weakness. It hadn't been the red hatchling's fault, and it certainly wasn't the fault of his bonded. The other two people the girl wasn't familiar with; one was an older man and the other a girl looking to be about Lea's own age. Almost unwittingly, her curiousity perked up its figurative ears, encouraged by the grumble that her empty stomach put forth.

The first thing she did was lay claim over a plate of food and, as an afterthought, a tray with a small, leftover pile of cinnamon rolls on them. It was difficult to juggle the plates with one arm hampered, but Lea eventually made it to the table without pitching both platters down her front. Setting the heavier plate of rolls on the table beside the girl, Lea offered friendly nods to the group, with an added twitch of the lips to Niraan, the only one she was somewhat acquainted with, if only by virtue of candidacy together. Of course, there was the whole 'your simourv made me need sutures in my leg' thing but L'nan figured that that wouldn't make all too great of an ice breaker. "Hello. This seat's not taken, is it?" Then Lea smiled as polite a smile as she could muster and sat down anyway.

[Kilnarak]

N'raan's musings over the dark secluded corners of the Eyrie were cut short as a buxom young woman strode purposefully to his table. Given the usually modest attire most in the Eyrie seemed to prefer, she cut nearly as strange a figure as he did - and that intrigued him. The bird was also a point of interest, however he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it - an accessory, perhaps, more-so than a living creature. His lips quirked up in a smirk as she invited herself to sit down, and he inclined his head slightly before leaning across the table to steal a bite from her plate - a chunk of what appeared to be carrot. He popped the vegetable in his mouth - not exactly the fare he would have chosen, but hey, it meant he didn't have to get up - before he answered her. "S' long as y' don' min' m' stealin' scraps, th' seat's yers," he drawled, his voice coached low, soft and smooth as velvet.

As the girl - Morgana - fed her bird, N'raan took the opportunity to look her over. Her attire was interesting - tight and form-fitting, 'though the emblazoned stars gave it the look of a costume - and she was cute enough, if not exactly his type. Still, her manner reminded him a touch of Mae, back 'home' in Sayaie, perhaps she would prove similarly entertaining? His gaze flicked back up to her face abruptly as she introduce herself, and he flashed his teeth briefly in a quick grin. "Mmn. Pretty name, Morgana. A pleasure t' meet y'. I s'ppose I should offer m' own, haa? But 's always more fun t' guess..." His grin quirked up slightly at one corner and his amber eyes flashed brightly with amusement. It was the sort of game he usually played with marks or clients, but it entertained him well enough. It was always more interesting hearing what others thought his name should be.

Interesting 'though she was, N'raan's attention was eventually drawn away again as yet another individual approached his table. This one was familiar, but only in a vague sense - he had seen the man before at the feast some nights ago, mingling amidst the other riders. When he addressed the both of them as 'ladies' N'raan didn't even blink - internally he was considering how best to turn this new game into something entertaining. He was androgynous enough that he didn't think it particularly strange: his slender build, somewhat feminine attire, and long hair certainly didn't help assuage the ambiguity. He did stare a long moment before giving voice to any sort of reply, rather openly looking the man up and down. When his eyes finally tracked their way back up to M'ari's face, he offered a brief and slightly demure grin.

"A serving maid? Ah, but there are so many," his demeanor had shifted when he spoke again, his usual accent discarded easily and his voice a clear purr, still coached soft and smooth. "One cannot be expected to pay attention to each and every one to pass through the kitchen, yes? Besides, there are lovelier things to look at," at this his gaze flicked across the table to Morgana, a brief flash of amusement lighting in his eyes. Would she play along, as well? "Isn't that so?"

When Leannan made her way over his expression darkened momentarily - the briefest furrowing of his brows before his expression fell back into it's smooth, calculated mask. He doubted she would play along - she had seemed a friend of the giant, and he certainly would not have. He inclined his head to the girl, however, his lips curving into an easy smile. "Oh, no. Make yourself comfortable... Lea, right?" His voice didn't waver in the slightest, holding it's soft tone - even if she gave him away, he still planned to keep the ruse up as long as he was able. His gaze flicked away from her - to the cinnamon rolls briefly, but it would not be 'ladylike' to steal one - to M'ari and back. "You have not seen a serving girl about? Emily, was it?" His gaze flicked to M'ari for affirmation.

[Kat]

Hamlet was a well-behaved bird, but he did not like that this strange man was invading his space. The bird already viewed the plate as his, and he especially disliked the invasion of the space around his owner, over whom he was a touch protective. The bird squawked, his black, beady eyes following N’raan’s movement as the strange man stole the carrot. Morgana turned her gaze to watch the bird, as if she waited for him to act in some way beyond the yelp.
”Oh, hush.”
Morgana said to the bird, staring him down with a stern, instructive expression. The bird did not do anything to N’raan, though, beyond glare at him with a rather unhappy look and puffed feathers. He felt threatened, but Morgana had trained him not to attack.
I don’t mind one bit, but Hamlet might.”
Morgana replied, casually tossing the words from her mouth with a friendly lilt. She picked up a piece of soft vegetable, and she fed it to Hamlet, the bird aggressively snatching the piece of broccoli from Morgana’s fingers, narrowly missing injuring the girl. She was clearly used to such behavior from the bird, as she was not at all bothered or frightened by the bird’s black beak.

Morgana grinned when the man complimented her name. She liked both compliments and her name, which she felt possessed an appropriate level of grandeur and excitement to fit Morgana’s personality. Of course, Zephyrus picked the name to be flashy, showy, and dramatic, and then raised the resulting child to fit the name. Morgana was trying to decide where the man fit into the Eyrie. He was clearly not a servant, but he could be a candidate like herself, except for the fact that laced in his long hair was a large, bright red feather, which Morgana guessed belonged to a simourv. So maybe the man was a rider, even though Morgana did not see a simourv by his side. Most of the riders remained quite attached to their bonded, so Morgana found it strange that the man was without his simourv. She did not want to ask him what he was, though, as that would display too much interest and too much naivety about the working of the Eyrie, which was still rather mysterious to the girl who had only just arrived.
”Oh, I don’t like to guess, so we can talk pleasantly until you accidently let it slip.”
Morgana replied with a small grin and a lift of one of her light, plucked eyebrows. She liked games, but no unwinnable games, and this situation was particularly bad, as she had not yet figured out how the honorific names worked. Did riders get names when they bonded? Did they get new names or modifications of their old names? And what were the rules for making those names? Morgana had no idea, and she did not want to begin to test the rules through bumbling.

Morgana was about to press harder, when they were interrupted by another man, who was carrying flowers The combination of flowers and running around the kitchens late at night, signaled to Morgana that this man was probably sleeping with one of the maids. He was cute, in a friendly, playful way, although not as intriguing as the man in front of whom she sat. He addressed them both as ladies. Morgana assumed the still-nameless long-haired man was rather effeminate, and if one did not look closely at him, the mistake was understandable. Morgana’s eyes flicked back to N’raan to see if he was insulted by the slip of gender, but he seemed to be amused, which meant Morgana intended to play along. She loved jokes. She loved games, and she loved deceit.
”Sorry, mister. Us women don’t tend to remember the faces of maids.”
Morgana replied, her mouth pulled into a secret smirk, and her gray eyes dancing with playfulness. This night was turning out to be interesting, Morgana thought, as she turned back to N’raan, a smile fixed on her large lips.
”So, your name…I think I’ll guess…”
Morgana pulled her lips together, and scrunched her eyebrows together, as if she thought about the task very hard.
”Victoria, or—Marcella.”
The girl replied, pulling the first two female names that flashed across her mind. She was not entirely sure where the names came from, but they sounded adequately feminine enough to play along with the simple muse.

When the other girl approached, Morgana turned her attention to the new person again, and she smiled a small, more reserved smile, than she had used earlier. The girl looked pretty boring, although she was around Morgana’s height, which was an comfort. Most everyone around the magician felt so tall.
”Hello, that seat is not taken, and you are welcome to it.”
Morgana said, and the words exited her mouth just as N’raan began to speak. Morgana stopped talking just in time to hear the boy use the girl’s name.
”Oh, Lea, eh? I’m Morgana, and the pigeon is Hamlet.”
Morgana mentioned with a small shrug of her shoulders. She picked off another piece of meat, which Hamlet snatched with the same vigor he had used to take the piece of broccoli earlier. Morgana did not wait for the girl to introduce herself. She was not a patient person, and it seemed silly not to use knowledge that was handed to her. Introductions were a silly social obligation which were only necessary in situations which they were useful. Morgana’s gaze turned back from her bird to the girl, as she studied L’nan carefully. Perhaps she was another candidate, but then again, maybe she was not. She looked as if she was Morgana’s age, and Morgana did not spot a simourv following her. And simourvs were not hard to spot. The unfamiliar situation Morgana found herself in, was confusing and different. But she would learn; she was a fast learner and a smart individual.

[zeis]

M'ari waited patiently while the two chatted amongst themselves, and kept up his half dismayed half hopeful expression while he looked them over whenever their eyes weren't on them. Both of them were quite attractive. Though the one with the weird animal on her arm seemed a bit young for him. She was wearing the most outlandish clothes, and he wholeheartedly approved. Maybe later he'd ask what city she'd purchased them in. He enjoyed gaudy costume clothing now that he was able to afford it. It made his past life in the streets seem that more distant. The other one with the slightly purring voice was more his type. Blonde, leggy, and with an air of flirtatious mystery. He was about to reply when another girl approached, taking a seat at their table. She was cute too.

He frowned as the first two answered in a negative, and let his arm holding the flowers drop slowly to his side in defeat. He ran his free hand through his wavy black hair, and glanced futilely behind him once more toward the door, as if expecting her to walk in at any moment. He could play the jilted date quite well when he wanted to, though honestly at this point he was not regretting Emily's absence that much. Why spend a fine autumn evening with just two ladies when you could spend it with three? "She said she'd be here..." He murmured with a sigh, and glanced down at the flowers with a pained look of realization, and regret. "Stood up again..."

The green-rider lingered there for a moment, looking sad an awkward and unsure of what he was doing there at all. Slowly he drew himself up, and with a slightly sad smile, offered the flowers to Niraan, as he just happened to be the closest. He spoke quietly, defeated, but trying not to let it show too much. "Um... Do you want these? So they don't go to waste..." He blushed a little, difficult to see on his dark skin. Whether it was from general shyness or hurt pride at the situation was a mere guess.

[Fox]

The first clue that L'nan had that something was afoot was N'raan's strange accent. Or rather, lack thereof. Previously, whenever she'd heard the other winglet speak, she had been hard-pressed to decipher his tendency to drop vowels here and there. Now, his voice was a clear almost feminine purr, and Lea blinked at him in distinct confusion, her eyebrows shooting upwards. What exactly was he on about? It was extremely tempting to ask, as curiousity was beginning to niggle at the girl's mind, but Lea was often of the opinion that sometimes silence provided the answers. There had to be a reason for it; perhaps if she ignored it the reason would become clear? Well, either way, seeing the new redrider act the part of a lady would surely be entertaining. "I'm sorry to say I have not seen a serving girl named Emily. Not that I would know if any serving girl was named Emily in the first place." It wasn't as if Lea made a habit of memorising the names of the dozen or more serving women who worked in the kitchens. She had chatted to a few women, but none of them had been named Emily.

As L'nan reached to take a cinnamon roll before sliding the tray across the table, her attention turned next to the other girl at the table; a pretty blonde girl with-- was that a raven on her arm? If Lea's eyebrows had been at all able to rise any higher, they would have disappeared into her hairline. What an odd girl; it wasn't just that her attire was almost as outlandish as N'raan's, but it appeared she had an extremely unconventional pet to boot. Lea found herself rather intrigued despite herself, and a bemused smile slid across her face at the girl's greeting. "Yes, it's Lea. It's a pleasure to meet you, Morgana." And, with a crooked smile, she leaned forward to look at the bird. "And it's a pleasure to meet this handsome bird as well. Would Hamlet like some cinnamon roll?" She asked, turning her curious brown eyes on Morgana. Her hands ripped a piece off of her roll, small enough to be of no trouble to a raven, and she held it up as if to ask permission. Almost as an afterthought, Lea inquired politely; "Are you a candidate?" Because she was definitely not a winglet, and there could really only be one reason that a girl of her age would come to Eyrie if she wasn't a cook or a craftswoman or something.

Lea did not know the fourth member of their little group; his face was unfamiliar to her, and she didn't often forget faces or the names paired with them. She wouldn't have known whether he was a rider or a carpenter, but it was immediately clear that no matter what he was, he was obviously a charmer. Call it a sixth sense or just an instinct, but Lea could spot the charmers a mile away, and they invariably put her back up. It was so difficult to tell what was truth and what was false with them that Lea just found the whole thing, and they themselves, to be rather ridiculous. She was suspicious of his supposed grief at being stood up, and her brown eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly at the man. Still, she might have dismissed him and just gotten on with her lunch, if not for the fact that the man went and offered N'raan the flowers. Flowers. To N'raan. As quickly as she could, Lea took a large, mouth-filling bite of the delicious cinnamon roll. Around the pastry, it was less obvious that her lips were twitching so hard with the urge to laugh that Lea's throat actually hurt from suppressing them. She struggled for a moment, both against the laughter and also against a bite that was just a little bit too big, before swallowing painfully and breaking into a large, mischievous grin. This whole thing was beginning to make sense now. This man thought that N'raan was a girl. "What beautiful flowers! Nira, you're so lucky." Pitching her voice somewhat higher and more excited than normal, Lea grasped at the first female-sounding name that came to mind. The cheery grin that she shot at him held not a small hint of mischief. She'd play along for now. She wanted to see just how far this thing would go. Oh, Lea could not wait to casually mention this to Ri'ley. She had no doubt that his reaction would be... sufficiently hilarious.

[Kilnarak]

N'raan turned his attention back to M'ari fully, dropping his amused smirk easily and instead replacing it with a somewhat apologetic smile - a touch over-exaggerated, but it would serve well enough. "Perhaps your Emily has decided to look for a new suitor? Ah, but that is her loss, yes?" His voice shifted just as easily between apologetic and flirtatious, and his eyes flashed with amusement. He was certainly enjoying his game - perhaps if everything played out well, he wouldn't even need to proceed to the reveal stage tonight; perhaps he might even continue it over the course of subsequent days! It was an overly optimistic idea, however, and he knew it - someone would slip up eventually, although he didn't intend it to be him.

"Her loss and our gain, yes Morgana?" His bright amber gaze flicked back to the girl with the bird. At her guesses he shook his head - no - flashing his teeth in the briefest grin. "No and no. It is actually Belladonna," he purred sweetly with the faintest hint of a laugh. He was just as amused with his choice of a name - he had stolen clippings of the plant from herbalists before, using its toxins to poison his arrows for hunting, but he also understood it's name to mean something about beauty. It was fitting enough, as clearly their spurned suitor seemed to think him that - N'raan had spied the man looking him over when he looked away, he knew how to read interest. A pity it was for this false persona, but at the very least he could enjoy it while it lasted... and perhaps, if the lovely Morgana were similarly amused... perhaps later...

He was drawn abruptly out of his musings as the other man thrust an offering of flowers at him. He blinked at the gift, momentarily taken aback; but his startled expression smoothed away swiftly enough and he took the flowers with a gracious smile. "How lovely," he purred, lifting them to sniff at the brightly colored flowers. He never had understood the purpose of offering weeds to a suitor, although it did seem that women liked the things. He would rather receive a gift of jewelry or food, something immediately useful or a pretty thing that wouldn't rot within a few days. N'raan glanced up at M'ari over the wildflower bouquet, his faint smirk hidden behind the flowers. "How very kind of you, sir...?" he trailed off pointedly, requesting a name.

His gaze flicked immediately to L'nan as she offered up his name - or at least, a truncated version of it - a faint frown tugging at his lips. While she hadn't ruined the game, she had certainly proven his offered name a lie. He lifted his face from the flowers, pouting at the girl sitting beside him. "Lea! Oh, and I had so liked being called Belladonna," he continued to pout a moment, then laughed - keeping his voice high and soft enough to sound feminine. "Oh, but aren't they lovely? Perhaps I should share?" he offered the bouquet first to L'nan so she could take her pick of the flowers, and then to Morgana.

Distantly, N'raan could feel Teimoph stirring. The red wasn't quite awake, although he was near it - tangling himself in N'raan's bedding as he shifted about. Sleepily, the simourv sent a questioning thought to His - where was he? He wasn't in their room. The realization annoyed Teimoph vaguely, but at the moment he was too sleepy to do much about it. N'raan could only offer calming thoughts back to the red - he wasn't far, he wasn't in danger, Teimoph should go back to sleep...

[Kat]

Even more so than compliments about herself, Morgana enjoyed compliments to her bird. She had raised Hamlet from the moment he hatched from his egg, almost, to his current state of glorious adulthood. And she had worked to train him, so that he could be useful to her, to her craft. Hamlet was as well maintained and trained as any falconer’s hawk, and he was easily smarter than any bird she had previously met. He could even almost talk, more like a parrot than a bird, able to mimic sounds and tones better than even her father, who had quite a knack for accents and acting.
”It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”
As if he understood that the dark-haired girl Hamlet eyed the piece of cinnamon roll that the girl broke off. His head followed the moments of the hands which held that piece of roll. He did not move to take the piece, though, even though he looked as if he wanted to, his little chest leaning forwards, much as if he was a person edging in for a comment. Morgana flicked two of her fingers in the air, and the bird carefully edged his beak towards the piece of roll, taking it from the girl’s hands. He gulped it down in one swollow, before he returned to his unengaged position and appearance on Morgana’s forearm. The food was gone; there was no reason for him to remain interested.
”He’ll eat almost anything.”
Morgana explained with a small shrug of her shoulders. Her free hand floated to the bird’s head, and she stroked it with the same two fingers she had used to signal his movement.
”And I am a candidate. Are you all candidates? I haven’t met any others yet, besides my roommate, and we didn’t talk much.”
Morgana had been waiting for a chance to ask the people around her about their status, and she was glad she gained the opportunity. A small smile crossed her lips, as she looked from one face to the next.

Morgana wanted the flowers. She was not sure why she wanted them, because they were meant for someone else, someone being courted by an inconsequential man, but she wanted them. She wanted to grasp them, and to smell them, if only because if the man gave them to her, it was some mark of pride, that she was the prettiest and the brightest in the room. And the man got them! Morgana admitted that he was a pretty man, a pretty nameless man, which was the best kind of beautiful man, one who was still mysterious, unusual, and new. Morgana got so easily bored with things—places, people, and the more mystery which surrounded a thing, the more likely Morgana was to enjoy it for longer. Perhaps that is why she liked to move around. Why she was so scared about remaining in the Eyrie forever, and so terrified of settling. The girl had never settled before, not for a place, not for a man, not for a friend. She was always moving, always changing, because she was Marvelous Morgana, and she knew lots of tricks.
”Oh, you don’t know that you were stood up. Maybe something happened to her. I don’t know, like a kitchen accident.”
Morgana purred, leaning across the table so that she could speak to the tan-skinned man. Her eyes, though, flickered between him and the flowers which N’raan now held. And most certainly, her loss. I mean, why would a woman pass up such a lovely man with such lovely flowers?”
Morgana continued to coo her words; they were almost dripping with favor. Somehow, Morgana possessed the ability to be completely obvious, utterly charming, and still deadly subtle. She could slip words out of her mouth so easily and naturally, that their unnatural, over-the-top delivery felt nature and truthful. Life was a show, a stage, and she constantly acted. Distraction, misdirection; hide the obvious from the masses, and play the cards.

As the man lied about his name and was caught, Morgana smiled. He missed his chance to hide his lie, and he was now caught. Morgana could have recovered far better. Nira sounded like a nickname after all, almost like a pet name. It would have been a stretch, but it would have been better than admitting to the lie. Once one lie was recovered, the others were much easier to unravel. Make people believe the improbable, but never let them know that anything is impossible. Magic was possible; you just had to sell it.
Oh, Nira, you should stop trying out stage names on people. They are getting more and more ridiculous. Belladonna, really? That’s no better than Quicksilver. In fact, it might be worse. Much too showy. Too obvious, I think.”
Morgana announced, smiling broadly towards the man across the table, and adding a small flourish of her loose hand.
”and they are lovely. I think I’ll take some."
Morgana said, as she leaned forwards to grab two of the roses. The first one she tucked into her hair, and at the same time, she dropped the second one into one of the pockets in her dress. She was not quite sure why she pocketed one of the roses. It just felt like the right thing to do, most likely because she was always hiding things, making them disappear. And to someone not looking closely at her quick-moving hands, it might appear as if the rose had disappeared. But that was the trick, even if Morgana preformed it without noticing. She was always preforming, even when she did not mean to.

[zeis]

M'ari, for all his cunning and silver tongued words, was not so great at sensing the motives of others. He could lie his way out of a tough situation, but could also dig his grave deeper and deeper without realizing it until it was too late. Valenph of course thought that a deceiver being deceived was his just desserts. She saw through her rider's eyes, and listened with amusement to the faint suggestions of emotion radiating off these strangers. She had recognized her rider's mistake immediately, but other than wisps of mysterious mental laughter she remained silent. What goes around comes around after all.

The green-rider smiled sadly as N'raan accepted the gift, and distributed the flowers amongst the other two. They weren't rejected! And the blonde was flirting with him. Excellent. Perhaps tonight wasn't such a loss after all. Maintaining his borderline sad composure, he cleared his throat and straightened his stance, attempting to look more all right and less like a kicked puppy. "Well, Morgana, Lea, and..." He raised his eyebrows at N'raan with a slight smile. "Whoever you are, enjoy those... Now, if you'll pardon me, I need a drink..."

He moved away from them down the long table at which they sat, scouring the surface for a leftover tankard of anything alcoholic. With his back turned to them he grinned to himself, like the cat that caught the six legged lizard. Do human females like males that have lost flights? Valenph teased gently as he lingered over pouring himself a drink. You'd be surprised... And I haven't lost, yet! He took a sip of the room temperature ale with a grimace, and took a moment to replace his pitiful persona before turning so they could see his face once again. He took a seat at the other end of their table, a respectable distance away so their conversation could continue. If things went well, he might lure the blonde, or at least one of them over.

[Fox]

The bird was extremely well-trained, Lea realised as Hamlet inched forward to carefully slip the piece of bread from her fingers. She had seen ravens before, though never from such a close distance, and what from what she had observed, those black beaks of theirs were extremely sharp and they were usually raucous, rowdy birds. And yet this girl controlled the raven with the briefest flick of her fingers. It was impressive, and Lea's amazement showed in the plain look of fascination that rested on her face as she observed Hamlet eat. It was with great reluctance that she dragged her eyes away to focus on Morgana and the question she posed. "I'm not a candidate." The young woman negated, shaking her head with a smile. "Nira and I are winglets now, though only just." At the slight emphasis on the feminine name, Lea shot N'raan a look filled with wry amusement. Then she looked away to introduce herself in full to Morgana, with the barest of a proud flush tinging her cheeks. "L'nan of tawny Eoreph, at your service." There was an odd sense of maternal pride that came with the simourv's name, as that was what Lea felt at the moment. Eoreph was a darling, a sweetheart, and at the moment she could do no wrong in the winglet's eyes.

It might have seemed somewhat terrible to say, but catching N'raan in the lie provided a profound sense of amusement for the young woman. She didn't entirely approve of this whole charade; the poor man would be humiliated when he found out, but his charm rankled her as well. So there were really no two ways about it. Perhaps if M'ari had not been trying so hard to flirt and charm his way into N'raan's good graces (and hers and Morgana's too, apparently, though it seemed like more of an afterthought), Lea might have taken pity on him and revealed the mistake. But he wasn't and she didn't appreciate the flirting, so the charade would continue. "You shouldn't have led him on like that; what's the point in giving him a fake name when he won't be able to find you afterwards?" She asked coyly, not finding the part too hard to play considering that watching a female-acting N'raan sink his hooks into a clueless man had already rocketed her amusement through the roof. Still, though, the young woman didn't come off entirely as flirtatious, more like she was enjoying a good joke even though she did not intend it. Her brown eyes glinted admiringly at the flowers, and she extracted one with a coo to tuck behind her ear in imitation of Morgana but beyond that she gave no further comment. At least, not until the man had excused himself to get a drink and walked a little ways away, out of earshot.

Then the mask dropped and L'nan raised an eyebrow in a singularly sardonic look. With a quick glance to ensure that the man was well and truly distracted, the young woman leaned a little bit across the table to roll her eyes at N'raan. "Really, N'raan? I had no idea you made such a convincing girl." Mischief warred with disapproval on her face, but the other man had made it somewhat hard for her to feel sorry for him. Lea was generally of the opinion that such men could do with being taken down a peg or two, but that didn't mean that she would avoid taking as much enjoyment as she could out of it. This experience would certainly be one to go down in the books.

[Kilnarak]

It had been going so well until L'nan had let first his name slip, and then his rank. The man might catch on to his game - of course he would know that none of the reds had bonded to girls, that they had disdained them. But no, he didn't seem to have noticed - of course, perhaps, the feather might go unnoticed. Or it might be thought a simple clip bought in the markets - he had seen stalls that offered shed simourv feathers, as well as markets offering the feathers of Terran birds like Morgana's raven.

N'raan busied himself a moment in toying with the flowers, lowering his face to the bouquet to smell it again. His eyes flashed again, focusing a brief, sharp look upon L'nan, and then shifting to Morgana. He straightened slightly, once again wearing a pout. "Oh! But I shouldn't like to be called 'Victoria' or 'Marcella'! Lea might decide to call me 'Victor' or 'Marc' then!" He cast an exaggeratedly suspicious glance aside to L'nan, pouting all the more. "Perhaps a different name then? What else would you suggest, Morgana? I should like a dazzling stage-name, like your own," his voice shifted into a purr and he slowly smoothed his pouting lips, widening his eyes slightly as he gazed in mock-admiration at the girl.

At L'nan's comment, his gaze flicked back to her, a touch disdaining. "Why, Lea! That is the point! Why should I want for him to find me when I can simply find him when it pleases me? Tch. I suppose that is why you and that..." he had to stop himself from saying 'giant,' however he used the pause to will a hint of jealousy into his tone, "That Ripley haven't gone all the way! You keep waiting for him to find you, instead of going to find him!" He looked away from the other girl then, his expression disgusted. It really wasn't all that difficult of a game - he had heard the rumors about the pair of them, as much of the rest of the Eyrie had - and it was easy enough to embellish upon them. Playing the part of a jealous rival only made it more amusing - oh, he did have a spark of interest for the giant of a black-rider, if only for the implied strength in the man's height and build; still, he wasn't made jealous by the rumors, merely intrigued.

As the other man made his leave - without yet offering a name! - N'raan turned a sulky pout over to him. "Ahh, leaving already? And I hadn't even caught your name," he held the expression a few moments, then shook his head and discarded it with another high, soft laugh. Smiling coquettishly, he inclined his head in a slight nod of farewell. "Of course we will enjoy your gift. Perhaps, in a short while, we might join you? For a drink, of course. I am sure we should all like to become better acquainted... yes Morgana? Lea?" He glanced from one girl to the other, still holding that smile.

After M'ari had left them, having moved away far enough that they could speak without him overhearing, N'raan turned another pouty frown to L'nan. "Oh, yer n' fun, Leaaa," he drawled out her name, wrinkling his nose slightly. "'t isn' s' hard. 've done it b'fore... 'though I s'ppose th' circ'mstances were rather diff'rent," his expression shifted again as he spoke, into a broad cheshire grin. He laughed, softly so as not to be overheard, and shrugged slightly as he leaned back in his seat. Setting the bouquet down on the table before him, he idly plucked a single flower out of the mass and began to absently pull it apart, dropping the petals to the table. His attention focused on the flower, he addressed both of the girls. "Think 'd like t' play 'Nira' a li'l longer. Y' two up t' th' game? Seems 'musin' at th' momen', yeh?" he glanced up at the pair briefly, his expression smoothing into a nearly unreadable set - curious perhaps, questioning.

He cast a brief glance over to their would-be suitor, looking him up and down once again. Had circumstances been different, it would have been easy to go over there, flirt and laugh and play this game, and then rob him blind before the fun had a chance to fully end. Really, he could still do most of that, so long as these two didn't care to give him away - so maybe he couldn't take his money, after; the game in and of itself was entertaining enough for now. "W' should g' over there, yeh? Give 't a li'l bit firs', make him wait. Mm?" His eyes flicked back to the girls, waiting for their input before he made a move.

[Kat]

This Nira seemed to be mocking her, and Morgana did not appreciate it. She nibbled the bottom of her lip, as she kept her gaze focused and bright towards him. Hs tone was just so sarcastic, and she had been trying to help him play his game. She did not like being snubbed when she was just helping. If she was upset by the proceedings, though, Morgana did not show a hint of malice. She was brilliant at hiding her emotions; she was an actress, performer, and she was so to the core. She leaned closer to N’raan, and she pouted her lips in a thoughtful flash.
”What about something less long, like Xena or Hera? Or, you could go more flamboyant, like Clytemnestra, something less literal than Belladonna.”
Morgana replied, and if she was angry, she did not show it. Her face twisted into a saccharine smile, and she returned her attention to her bird, stroking his neck with one lazy finger.

Morgana then turned her attention to the pale girl’s introduction. Morgana had only been at the Eyrie for half a day, so she barely understood the intricacies of the politics of the place. The color words meant nothing to her. Simourvs were simourvs, and she had not yet processed that their different colors meant anything but different genetic variations.
”Tawny, that’s brown, right?”
Morgana had not even seen very many simourvs yet. She knew red Seronaph, who was bright and beautiful, and she had seen other forms in the air, flying about the cliffs. Some had been bright green and blue, but she had yet to see a brown one. It did not sound as interesting as the sapphire and emerald beast she had witnessed from afar. If Morgana were to bond, and of course, she was not going to do so at any point in her life, she would want a bright, colorful, and flamboyant creature. She wondered if any of the simourvs came in rainbow colors. She would like to have one that was striped in many different clashing colors. It would suit her, although the bright greens and blues she spotted earlier would also tickle her fancy. She could start modifying her wardrobe to match the creature, wearing purples and blues to compliment a simourv’s greens, or purple and black to match the blue.
I would imagine that brown would be boring. I’d want something brighter like a red or green or blue. Do they come in rainbow? I would like that.”
Morgana did not really mean to insult L’nan. She was just expressing a belief which drifted into her mind, and she did not really think the comment through. If L’nan was worth talking to, anyway, she would have thick enough skin to accept differing opinions. Morgana did not wait for a reply, before she turned her attention back to Hamlet, who cooed as she offered him another piece of meat. Then, the taunting of Nira to L’nan was about people about which Morgana did not care. So this Lea was in love with a prude. That was really too bad for her. The best romantic pursuits were the ones who were willing to aggress and provide. Relationships were useless without physical reciprocation.

The man who was confused about this Nira’s gender left, and Morgana was disappointed. Even though she was only peripherally involved, Morgana was having fun teasing the stupid man, and she disliked the fact that the game must now end.
”I would be game for more. I’m sure we can think of something. If you get the man’s name, you could even arrange a later meeting, flowers, dinner, a dress.”
Morgana mused as she nodded with interest towards this Nira. She wondered what his real name was. She would ask him later, when they were not so close to the man they were trying to fool. Morgana loved this game. She loved the game of toying and lying. It was her life, the life of deceit, and she loved it. The harder the challenge, the greater the thrill, and holding up a gender farce for an extended period of time, that was a challenge. Morgana was excited about the prospect.