the fastest way to a man's heart...

Tempest was not having a good day, and that was putting it lightly. This was her third trip out of the forest in as many days, and her patient hadn't even given her the courtesy of waiting until she had arrived to drop dead. Plain rude, if you asked her. Honestly, she was more upset that she had lost a patient she'd never even seen than she'd let on. But Tempest had never been the tearful kind – she, true to her name, was the angry type, but she never seemed to take her anger out on the right target. After all, there was nothing her patient could have done – and yet Tempest still managed to seethe at the unfortunate soul.

Stubborn as she was, Tempest could have forced herself to fly back to Niwetri, but aside from being weary to the bone, she had less patience than usual for the idiotic questions that would plague her on her return. Better that she stay the night, at least, then the messenger they would undoubtedly send out knew where to find her. Tempest draped her cloak over her arm before entering the tavern/inn, touching the arm of the serving girl as soon as she stepped through the door, requesting a room with as few words as possible. Conversations dipped in volume as she passed, but Tempest took no notice as she moved purposefully towards the bar. She nudged one half-sleeping gentleman out of the way as she slipped into a small, albeit sticky, space at the bar. Due to the slightly taller stature of the natives of the city, Tempest found herself using her wings to keep herself on a par with everyone else. The sound of her fluttering was swallowed up in the noisy room, but she flinched any time her wings touched anything other than air. One such time, she found herself turning to her right with an apologetic expression. ”Do forgive me, I'll try to keep out of your way.” She told the dark haired man, knowing full well that it was almost a physical impossibility. Well, she had only claimed to try.

... is through his chest.

the fastest way to a man's heart...

Unfortunately, it was impossible for Tempest to fully fold away her wings. It did make things rather awkward in small spaces, such as this one, but she couldn't quite bring herself to care. Though they looked delicate, they were rather more durable than they appeared, but it still wasn't particularly comfortable when people crushed or bent them. She pulled them in as much as she was able, trying to angle herself so fewer people had the opportunity to touch her. Despite the tactile nature of her profession, Tempest wasn't really all that comfortable with being touched without her permission. She huffed a laugh at the man, noticing despite her frustrations that he had a rather nice smile. ”You could say that.” She offered a roll of her eyes as if her irritations were the same petty, everyday problems that others faced.

Quite frankly, she didn't want to rehash the day's events, so she simply offered her own lopsided smile and shrugged one shoulder. ”Nothing overly exciting, I fear.” Which was true enough – at the end of it, she had really come for no reason at all. ”Work can take me to several places in Oedir – it just so happened to be here today.” Tempest had learned that too much mystery prompted probing questions, where just enough information left those questions unasked. Hopefully, she had struck the right side of the mark.

Tempest had never been the most patient of fairies, but the bartender's clear prejudice towards his other customers was quickly whittling away at her already very short fuse. After the third time of him passing by her, Tempest was seething. She spoke only loudly enough for the few people surrounding her and the bartender to hear, but her tone was clipped and short with the anger she was trying to restrain. She didn't want to get thrown out, after all – she had paid for a perfectly good room (she hoped) and she intended to use it. ”I know I happen to be rather shorter than your normal clientele, but I struggle to believe that you can't see me.” With her arms crossed over her chest in a huff, she looked more like a petulant child than she realised.

... is through his chest.




((Feel free to NPC the bartender if you like - no worries if not though!))

the fastest way to a man's heart...

Tempest nodded her agreement – she probably did. There were places in Oedir that weren't particularly suited to humans, or indeed that didn't welcome them, just as there were places that didn't particularly welcome the fae. Frustratingly, this tavern appeared to be one such place, but Tempest almost thrived on being controversial. ”That's possibly true, but I do spend much of my time either in Drythwood Forest or the Aelfmenn Kingdom.” As far as she was aware, both places welcomed humans – or if not welcomed, at least tolerated their presence.

She hadn't expected any assistance, and a rare smile blossomed on her face at Osric's intervention. She dispatched the bartender with her order, trying not to smirk smugly at him, before she turned back to the knight. ”Thank you, I was rather worried he would ignore me all night.” She rolled her eyes at the innkeeper's ignorance, paying the man only enough attention to slide a coin across the sticky bar in exchange for the wine she had requested. She took a sip of the liquid, trying to fight a grimace at the taste. Perhaps she should have stuck with the most popular drink.

Tempest cradled the steel goblet in her hands. She found it was better than leaving it to be knocked by careless elbows, or stolen by light fingers. The detriment, of course, was that she drank it faster, and her tolerance was not nearly as great as those that surrounded her. Perhaps she could call on the chivalry of this knight again to make sure she remained safe. Her thoughts on his manners prompted her own, and she released her cup with one hand, holding it out to him. ”My name is Tempest.”

... is through his chest.