Nostariel wasnât exactly sure whose idea it had been or why anyone else had agreed to it, but apparently at some point in the evening, an archery contest had been proposed. The competitors were the Lionsâ best archer, Tessa, Ash, Lia, and surprisingly enough Ithilian. Barring Ashton, everyone was either a little intoxicated, in Liaâs case, or significantly more, as seemed to be the way of things with the other two. Still none of them were falling over, and she was here in case anything bad happened. Of course, it had been decided fairly quickly that it wasnât quite fair if Ashton got to shoot sober, and Nostariel had proposed a solution: she would simply cast a basic confusion spell on him, which would simulate the effects well enough to even things out, more or less.
When that was done, the competitors lined up in the arena, the end of which had been fitted with a matching row of targets, courtesy of Cor, Idris, and a few other interested mercenaries. Nostariel stepped to the side and lined up along the training ring fence with the rest of the spectators, her own job done since Amalia would be officiating. Hopefully nobodyâs aim would be off enough to cause injury, but she was here if it was.
"I gotta be honest. Did not wake up this morning expecting to have a drunk spell cast on me..." Ashton's world had a spin to it that was uncommon to him with a sober mindframe. It was disorientating, but then again, that was the entire point wasn't it? Then again, he'd never consented to having a spell cast on him either. It was only after the fact that he began to hope that Nos had some way to undo the confusion so that the rest of the night wouldn't be spent in some sort of magical induced faux-intoxication. Taking a bow from the Lion's collection, he plucked the string and tested the weight and tried to get a general feel to the weapon.
As it turned out, any preparation he might've done was negated by the confusion spell. Everything in his mind was fuzzy and he couldn't tell how the bow was supposed to feel, only that it made a twang when he flicked the string. He flicked it again, just to be sure before throwing his hands up, "Good enough!" Along with the ability to gauge bows, so gone too was his ability to walk a straight line. His feet did their own thing and he was simply along for the ride. It was a good thing he didn't need his feet to shoot... At least not this time. He finally made his way to the line they were to shoot at and nocked an arrow, pausing for a moment before drawing.
"Wish me luck sweetheart!" He called to Nos on the other side of the fence, blowing a kiss in her direction. With a lopsided grin plastered to his lips. Ever the showman, Ashton began with a flourish. He raised his arm straight up, rotating his wrist fancifully as he slowly pulled it down to the bow string. Once the fingers were on the string (after missing it entirely the first time. He hoped no one saw.) he drew it back and aimed at the first target. He loosed it before he was ready, however, and it struck wide left of the center. He repeated the act again, moving quicker this time and aimed at the next target. Better, but still left. He forwent the flourish for the next four shots, settling instead into a rhythm. At the end, he twirled the bow around his hand-- almost dropping it in the process-- and passed it off to Lia.
"Let's see whatcha got." he said, making his way out of the danger zone.
The bow was a little big for her, and Lia hadn't really been expecting to demonstrate her shooting skills tonight. She wouldn't have snuck down more wine than was probably wise if she'd known. Still, she was determined not to disappoint, setting her stance up a bit rigidly, taking a moment to test out the weight of the bow, and then pulling back the first arrow. She wasn't really prepared for how sweaty her hands were, how warm her face felt. The arrow hit the target... in the leg, leaving chipped wood behind before it buried itself in the dirt.
"Er..." she said, taking a second arrow and adjusting. She fired it fairly quickly, if only to forget the first shot, and hopefully make everyone else forget it, too. The rest of her shots all hit the target, at least, though only two of them came reasonably close to the center.
Ithilian, on the other hand, was quite drunk at this point, but still more than capable of maintaining a serious face. Despite how much this seemed unlike him, he'd actually done this before, a time when he'd have boasted his skills much more loudly, and tested them when he was just as drunk. He swayed visibly with the arrow drawn back, but his gaze was unwavering, and the first two arrows hit the bullseye, the second splitting the first. The rest were slightly more inaccurate, but it still left him with an impressive score.
"Clearly I need more," he said, tossing the bow to Tessa, the last to go, just before he took another swig of the ale he'd brought out with him. "Could always get Nos to throw a spell on you, that'd probably work," He replied with a grin, though obviously holding on to the nearby fence tighter than was strictly necessary. Though no matter how tight his grip, the world never stopped spinning.
Tessa laughed aloud at that, catching the bow with a precarious tilt forward. She was⊠well, sheâd just worked her ass off for almost two years to make it to this point, this occasion, and she was a big believer in celebrating when it was due. She lurched a fair bit more than the other two when she made her way up to the line to shoot, but all the same, her round was a good one, and while she only made one bullseye, the rest of her shots were clustered relatively tightly around it, and she actually came out of the first round with the highest score, Lia being eliminated by the numbers.
Tessa was the next to go though, as her second round was not as good as her first, and both of the others did quite well. In the end, it came down to Ithilian and Ashton. Both took their turns, and Amalia totaled the points based on the locations of the arrowsâgreen fletching for Ithilianâs, blue for Ashtonâs. âThe winner is Ashton, by two points.â Working the arrows free of the target, she returned them to Cor, who ran them back to storage.
The announcement made, Ashtonâs confusion lifted as Nostariel applied a dispel to him, grinning brightly. âAnd they canât even complain that you were the sober one.â The statement was meant as a joke of course, but it had been pretty entertaining to watch. Standing on her toes, she hopped slightly to be able to actually reach his cheek, which she kissed. âWho needs luck, anyway?â
"Certainly not me, sweetheart. All skill, all day," he said, chuckling. He returned the kiss by leaning down to give her a peck on the temple. To the others, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and the other planted firmly on his hip and spoke for all to hear. "Let's all remember, this is why it's Lieutenant Riviera and not Recruit Riviera. I'll also take Master Archer Riviera, if you all are so inclined."
While the archery contest was going on outside, several of those who had remained indoors had decided to play cards. After a bit of discussion, it was decided that the game of choice was Wicked Grace, as sure an indication as any that a large portion of the would-be participants were intoxicated. Fortunately, Wicked Grace could be played for either money or articles of clothing, and neither was necessarily demanded. Lucien was cajoled by several of his people into joining the game, much to his own chagrin, but when they attempted also to get Sophia to agree, he felt it necessary to say something.
âThis game is known for requiring a fair amount of guile,â he said, leaning over slightly so as to be inaudible to anyone else. âAnd it's not exactly played in polite company, usually. You are welcome to abstain⊠and I might recommend it.â Especially since it seemed to be the case that Rilien had agreed to play. What that really made the exercise was a question of how long other people could tolerate losing before they folded. Estella had already decided to sit out, though Donnelly was in. Lucien pitied him, but he chose not to say it.
"I think I'll spectate, then," Sophia decided. "I expect I'll enjoy it a great deal more that way." Guile was obviously not her strongest attribute, and she hadn't imbibed nearly enough to somehow think that it was. She looked forward to seeing how Lucien would fare. Either outcome, she figured, would be entertaining to watch.
It was Rilien who dealt the cards, moving them about so fast that it was impossible to keep track of them. Well, not for him, but there was really no point in cheating at a game that was well within his capability to win fairly. Having dealt everyone a hand (five in total, for himself, Lucien, Aurora, Donnelly, and another Lion whose name he did not know), he spread out the three dealer cards face down to begin, then settled back into his chair, picking up his own hand. Doing some quick mental math and glancing around at the expressions of the other people at the table, he withdrew a few pieces of copper from his coinpurse. Bets started low while everyone got a feel for the game, and would generally increase by round. In the event one ran out of funds, they could bet items of clothing instead.
Rilien never ran out of funds when playing Wicked Grace.
Poke.
A finger jabbed Rilien in the ribs and as its owner spoke at him. "I'm not afraid of you," Aurora stated before poking him again. Then she laughed and took another drink from her goblet. She wasn't sure what glass of wine she was on, but it was enough to start feeling its effects. It helped explain the boldness at openly challenging the Rilien to a card game. Even without seeing it first hand she knew he had to be great at cards. It only made sense after all. He was probably great a cards before he became tranquil too.
With her two cards in front of her, Aurora took one more swig out of her goblet before placing both hands on the table and taking a deep breath. "Okay..." She began, closing her eyes and focusing. "Amalia face." What followed was one of her hands sliding across her face and taking all emotion with it. At least for that moment. It broke the next with a barely suppressed giggle as she poked Rilien again without looking. She fished a couple of coppers out of her pockets and set the betting, before returning to her pockets to find the rest of the coins she had.
Lucien snorted slightly at Auroraâs imitation of Amaliaâit was not entirely inaccurate, actually. Once sheâd set the betting standard, he followed with the same, leading Marchiel next in the sequence to fold immediately. Fair enoughâhe wouldnât lose anything this round, at least. Donnelly matched the bet, and things went around again.
By the fifth set, almost everyone but Rilien was out of money. Marchiel was missing her boots, and Donnelly was down to trousers and the scarf he usually wore around his neck. Lucien pushed the last of his coins into the pile, raising his eyebrow over the table at Rilien. It was pointless trying to read the Tranquil for tells; one simply had to hope oneâs hand of cards was better than his. But if he didnât have a good hand, he rarely bothered to play far, and he still had a large stack of copper and silver in front of him.
Aurora's eyes were level with the table, the rest of her face obscured by its lip. She stared intently at her cards, which she held only a few inches away from the surface so that only she could see it. While her "Amalia face" was still on, it did not keep her from her antics. She only did them with a serious face now, occasionally broken by a laugh when she poked one of two people on either side of her. She was already missing articles of clothing, having run out of coins a few sets back. For now, she was barefooted, having lost her boots and one of the her bracers (the one that was not made by Amalia) during the last set.
She glanced up from her cards and to both Lucien and Rilien before returning back. "I bet my coat on this," she stated, putting her cards down and picking up her goblet.
Rilien didnât really understand why it was necessary that he accept bets of clothing in lieu of actual money, but he was familiar with the custom, and since he didnât really care how much money he won at the table, he chose to indulge it. He, of course, was still fully clothed and would remain so. He had little regard for propriety as such, but lacking such articles was a vulnerability of a sort, and he did not cede advantages for any reason. In games as in life, perhaps.
Not that he was taking this completely seriously. That was impossible even for him. Deciding what he supposed Auroraâs coat was worth, he raised by double the amount. That would force the next player at the table, Donnelly, to either bet his trousers or forfeit. Rilien was holding a fairly weak pair of cards this round, but nobody need know that, of course.
Lucien pressed his lips together, suspicious perhaps more from habit than from any tell of Rilienâs. Still, perhaps it was the drink, but he was feeling good about this round. His cards were goodânot excellent, but goodâbut staying in the game meant betting articles of clothing that would actually bare skin when absent. With a twinge of embarrassment muted by the alcohol, he decided not to look anywhere near his left where Sophia was sitting, and set his cards facedown on the table to pull his tunic over his head. âI, ah⊠raise.â So to speak.
Sophia, as she had predicted, was enjoying all of this greatly, seated on Lucien's left with all her clothes right where they belonged, thanks to his wise counsel. It had taken some time for Rilien to get Lucien bare-chested, but he had done it now, and Sophia leaned over to set her cheek on his shoulder. Her gaze was slightly unfocused from the alcohol as she slid her arms around his bicep and hmmm'ed pleasantly.
"This is fine work you're doing, Rilien." She didn't wish for too much embarrassment for Lucien, but really... the removal of his shirt was hardly a crime. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Aurora looked to the growing pile of coins and clothes, and then to the backs of her cards, before cycling to Rilien and Lucien. Her gaze returned to her cards where it lingered for a moment. Then she shrugged and took a large gulp from her goblet. "I'm still in," she said, sliding her arms into her shirt and popping it off over her scarf. There were a few things she did not want to risk, among those were the bracer from Amalia, her scarf, and her pants. Everything else was replaceable.
The loss of her shirt did not make her indecent, as her scarf and layers of bandages covered most of her torso. The bandages were layered thick, in order to lessen any injuries she might take during her ventures in Kirkwall's streets. However, it did leave her arms and shoulders bare, and revealed many of the scars that her clothes hid. Discolored lines cut up to the shoulder on one arm, and down the forearm on the other, as well as a few indentations earned from her years fighting beside her friends. She caught the staring blush of Donnelly across the table, which caused her to look at one of her arms.
"This one?" she stated with a grin, pointing at the scar at her shoulder. "A parting gift from a pirate, on his own boat. Rilien was there," she said, jabbing another finger into his ribs. "I like your scarf by the way," she added rather abruptly, wagging an eyebrow at the article in question before slipping into a grin.
If it were possible for Rilien to feel amusement, it was a fair bet that he did right now. It would seem that Lucien became somewhat less decorous when drunk, and Aurora somewhat more forward. Of course, this extended to himself only insofar as he intermittently found himself poked in the ribs or the arm or something of that nature. Supposing that Lucien was going to play this round through, Rilien chose to fold. He would lose only a few silvers by doing so, and his cards werenât worth risking more for when another player seemed bound to call any bluff anyway. So he ceded, leaving the round to be between Donnelly, Lucien, and Aurora. It would likely be the last anyway, as everyone seemed to be at about the amount of lost clothing they could take with good humor. And some discomfort, of course.
"It is nice to be appreciated, Sophia."
Lucien cleared his throat slightly awkwardly, not even initially noticing that Rilien had chosen to fold. He was, perhaps understandably, quite distracted at the moment, and wondered if the perceptible increase in temperature was the room, the alcohol, or the skin-to-skin contact with Sophia. He had a feeling he knew which. Shaking his head slightly, he put in a valiant effort to refocus on what was in front of him, which at the moment included the fact that Donnelly, now gingerly placing his short scarf on the table, was quite red in the face.
âUh⊠I mean, thanks. Itâs um⊠my aunt made it for me. Youâre pretty tooâI mean. Your scarf. Itâs uh⊠yeah. Pretty.â Well, Lucien could not help but think, at least he wasnât quite that bad anymore. Probably hadnât been since he was thirteen. Perhaps growing up in court just meant growing up faster, at least in some respects.
âAll right, turn them over then.â Lucien had a pair of cups and a pair of crowns, which wasnât bad. Donnelly only had a pair of tens. Both looked over to Aurora thereafter, curious as to what sheâd been playing with.
A lone pair of swords.
Aurora stared at Lucien's cards before looking at hers again, switching back and forth between them. "Wait..." She sputtered. She hoped that maybe if she looked just a little harder that she'd find maybe she imagined his two pairs and that she'd won instead. No matter how closely she stared however, the cards never changed, and a rosy tint seeped into her features. "Well." she uttered as she cradled her forehead.
"At least it's not cold tonight, right?" She offered Donnelly with a smile.
When that was done, the competitors lined up in the arena, the end of which had been fitted with a matching row of targets, courtesy of Cor, Idris, and a few other interested mercenaries. Nostariel stepped to the side and lined up along the training ring fence with the rest of the spectators, her own job done since Amalia would be officiating. Hopefully nobodyâs aim would be off enough to cause injury, but she was here if it was.
"I gotta be honest. Did not wake up this morning expecting to have a drunk spell cast on me..." Ashton's world had a spin to it that was uncommon to him with a sober mindframe. It was disorientating, but then again, that was the entire point wasn't it? Then again, he'd never consented to having a spell cast on him either. It was only after the fact that he began to hope that Nos had some way to undo the confusion so that the rest of the night wouldn't be spent in some sort of magical induced faux-intoxication. Taking a bow from the Lion's collection, he plucked the string and tested the weight and tried to get a general feel to the weapon.
As it turned out, any preparation he might've done was negated by the confusion spell. Everything in his mind was fuzzy and he couldn't tell how the bow was supposed to feel, only that it made a twang when he flicked the string. He flicked it again, just to be sure before throwing his hands up, "Good enough!" Along with the ability to gauge bows, so gone too was his ability to walk a straight line. His feet did their own thing and he was simply along for the ride. It was a good thing he didn't need his feet to shoot... At least not this time. He finally made his way to the line they were to shoot at and nocked an arrow, pausing for a moment before drawing.
"Wish me luck sweetheart!" He called to Nos on the other side of the fence, blowing a kiss in her direction. With a lopsided grin plastered to his lips. Ever the showman, Ashton began with a flourish. He raised his arm straight up, rotating his wrist fancifully as he slowly pulled it down to the bow string. Once the fingers were on the string (after missing it entirely the first time. He hoped no one saw.) he drew it back and aimed at the first target. He loosed it before he was ready, however, and it struck wide left of the center. He repeated the act again, moving quicker this time and aimed at the next target. Better, but still left. He forwent the flourish for the next four shots, settling instead into a rhythm. At the end, he twirled the bow around his hand-- almost dropping it in the process-- and passed it off to Lia.
"Let's see whatcha got." he said, making his way out of the danger zone.
The bow was a little big for her, and Lia hadn't really been expecting to demonstrate her shooting skills tonight. She wouldn't have snuck down more wine than was probably wise if she'd known. Still, she was determined not to disappoint, setting her stance up a bit rigidly, taking a moment to test out the weight of the bow, and then pulling back the first arrow. She wasn't really prepared for how sweaty her hands were, how warm her face felt. The arrow hit the target... in the leg, leaving chipped wood behind before it buried itself in the dirt.
"Er..." she said, taking a second arrow and adjusting. She fired it fairly quickly, if only to forget the first shot, and hopefully make everyone else forget it, too. The rest of her shots all hit the target, at least, though only two of them came reasonably close to the center.
Ithilian, on the other hand, was quite drunk at this point, but still more than capable of maintaining a serious face. Despite how much this seemed unlike him, he'd actually done this before, a time when he'd have boasted his skills much more loudly, and tested them when he was just as drunk. He swayed visibly with the arrow drawn back, but his gaze was unwavering, and the first two arrows hit the bullseye, the second splitting the first. The rest were slightly more inaccurate, but it still left him with an impressive score.
"Clearly I need more," he said, tossing the bow to Tessa, the last to go, just before he took another swig of the ale he'd brought out with him. "Could always get Nos to throw a spell on you, that'd probably work," He replied with a grin, though obviously holding on to the nearby fence tighter than was strictly necessary. Though no matter how tight his grip, the world never stopped spinning.
Tessa laughed aloud at that, catching the bow with a precarious tilt forward. She was⊠well, sheâd just worked her ass off for almost two years to make it to this point, this occasion, and she was a big believer in celebrating when it was due. She lurched a fair bit more than the other two when she made her way up to the line to shoot, but all the same, her round was a good one, and while she only made one bullseye, the rest of her shots were clustered relatively tightly around it, and she actually came out of the first round with the highest score, Lia being eliminated by the numbers.
Tessa was the next to go though, as her second round was not as good as her first, and both of the others did quite well. In the end, it came down to Ithilian and Ashton. Both took their turns, and Amalia totaled the points based on the locations of the arrowsâgreen fletching for Ithilianâs, blue for Ashtonâs. âThe winner is Ashton, by two points.â Working the arrows free of the target, she returned them to Cor, who ran them back to storage.
The announcement made, Ashtonâs confusion lifted as Nostariel applied a dispel to him, grinning brightly. âAnd they canât even complain that you were the sober one.â The statement was meant as a joke of course, but it had been pretty entertaining to watch. Standing on her toes, she hopped slightly to be able to actually reach his cheek, which she kissed. âWho needs luck, anyway?â
"Certainly not me, sweetheart. All skill, all day," he said, chuckling. He returned the kiss by leaning down to give her a peck on the temple. To the others, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and the other planted firmly on his hip and spoke for all to hear. "Let's all remember, this is why it's Lieutenant Riviera and not Recruit Riviera. I'll also take Master Archer Riviera, if you all are so inclined."
While the archery contest was going on outside, several of those who had remained indoors had decided to play cards. After a bit of discussion, it was decided that the game of choice was Wicked Grace, as sure an indication as any that a large portion of the would-be participants were intoxicated. Fortunately, Wicked Grace could be played for either money or articles of clothing, and neither was necessarily demanded. Lucien was cajoled by several of his people into joining the game, much to his own chagrin, but when they attempted also to get Sophia to agree, he felt it necessary to say something.
âThis game is known for requiring a fair amount of guile,â he said, leaning over slightly so as to be inaudible to anyone else. âAnd it's not exactly played in polite company, usually. You are welcome to abstain⊠and I might recommend it.â Especially since it seemed to be the case that Rilien had agreed to play. What that really made the exercise was a question of how long other people could tolerate losing before they folded. Estella had already decided to sit out, though Donnelly was in. Lucien pitied him, but he chose not to say it.
"I think I'll spectate, then," Sophia decided. "I expect I'll enjoy it a great deal more that way." Guile was obviously not her strongest attribute, and she hadn't imbibed nearly enough to somehow think that it was. She looked forward to seeing how Lucien would fare. Either outcome, she figured, would be entertaining to watch.
It was Rilien who dealt the cards, moving them about so fast that it was impossible to keep track of them. Well, not for him, but there was really no point in cheating at a game that was well within his capability to win fairly. Having dealt everyone a hand (five in total, for himself, Lucien, Aurora, Donnelly, and another Lion whose name he did not know), he spread out the three dealer cards face down to begin, then settled back into his chair, picking up his own hand. Doing some quick mental math and glancing around at the expressions of the other people at the table, he withdrew a few pieces of copper from his coinpurse. Bets started low while everyone got a feel for the game, and would generally increase by round. In the event one ran out of funds, they could bet items of clothing instead.
Rilien never ran out of funds when playing Wicked Grace.
Poke.
A finger jabbed Rilien in the ribs and as its owner spoke at him. "I'm not afraid of you," Aurora stated before poking him again. Then she laughed and took another drink from her goblet. She wasn't sure what glass of wine she was on, but it was enough to start feeling its effects. It helped explain the boldness at openly challenging the Rilien to a card game. Even without seeing it first hand she knew he had to be great at cards. It only made sense after all. He was probably great a cards before he became tranquil too.
With her two cards in front of her, Aurora took one more swig out of her goblet before placing both hands on the table and taking a deep breath. "Okay..." She began, closing her eyes and focusing. "Amalia face." What followed was one of her hands sliding across her face and taking all emotion with it. At least for that moment. It broke the next with a barely suppressed giggle as she poked Rilien again without looking. She fished a couple of coppers out of her pockets and set the betting, before returning to her pockets to find the rest of the coins she had.
Lucien snorted slightly at Auroraâs imitation of Amaliaâit was not entirely inaccurate, actually. Once sheâd set the betting standard, he followed with the same, leading Marchiel next in the sequence to fold immediately. Fair enoughâhe wouldnât lose anything this round, at least. Donnelly matched the bet, and things went around again.
By the fifth set, almost everyone but Rilien was out of money. Marchiel was missing her boots, and Donnelly was down to trousers and the scarf he usually wore around his neck. Lucien pushed the last of his coins into the pile, raising his eyebrow over the table at Rilien. It was pointless trying to read the Tranquil for tells; one simply had to hope oneâs hand of cards was better than his. But if he didnât have a good hand, he rarely bothered to play far, and he still had a large stack of copper and silver in front of him.
Aurora's eyes were level with the table, the rest of her face obscured by its lip. She stared intently at her cards, which she held only a few inches away from the surface so that only she could see it. While her "Amalia face" was still on, it did not keep her from her antics. She only did them with a serious face now, occasionally broken by a laugh when she poked one of two people on either side of her. She was already missing articles of clothing, having run out of coins a few sets back. For now, she was barefooted, having lost her boots and one of the her bracers (the one that was not made by Amalia) during the last set.
She glanced up from her cards and to both Lucien and Rilien before returning back. "I bet my coat on this," she stated, putting her cards down and picking up her goblet.
Rilien didnât really understand why it was necessary that he accept bets of clothing in lieu of actual money, but he was familiar with the custom, and since he didnât really care how much money he won at the table, he chose to indulge it. He, of course, was still fully clothed and would remain so. He had little regard for propriety as such, but lacking such articles was a vulnerability of a sort, and he did not cede advantages for any reason. In games as in life, perhaps.
Not that he was taking this completely seriously. That was impossible even for him. Deciding what he supposed Auroraâs coat was worth, he raised by double the amount. That would force the next player at the table, Donnelly, to either bet his trousers or forfeit. Rilien was holding a fairly weak pair of cards this round, but nobody need know that, of course.
Lucien pressed his lips together, suspicious perhaps more from habit than from any tell of Rilienâs. Still, perhaps it was the drink, but he was feeling good about this round. His cards were goodânot excellent, but goodâbut staying in the game meant betting articles of clothing that would actually bare skin when absent. With a twinge of embarrassment muted by the alcohol, he decided not to look anywhere near his left where Sophia was sitting, and set his cards facedown on the table to pull his tunic over his head. âI, ah⊠raise.â So to speak.
Sophia, as she had predicted, was enjoying all of this greatly, seated on Lucien's left with all her clothes right where they belonged, thanks to his wise counsel. It had taken some time for Rilien to get Lucien bare-chested, but he had done it now, and Sophia leaned over to set her cheek on his shoulder. Her gaze was slightly unfocused from the alcohol as she slid her arms around his bicep and hmmm'ed pleasantly.
"This is fine work you're doing, Rilien." She didn't wish for too much embarrassment for Lucien, but really... the removal of his shirt was hardly a crime. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Aurora looked to the growing pile of coins and clothes, and then to the backs of her cards, before cycling to Rilien and Lucien. Her gaze returned to her cards where it lingered for a moment. Then she shrugged and took a large gulp from her goblet. "I'm still in," she said, sliding her arms into her shirt and popping it off over her scarf. There were a few things she did not want to risk, among those were the bracer from Amalia, her scarf, and her pants. Everything else was replaceable.
The loss of her shirt did not make her indecent, as her scarf and layers of bandages covered most of her torso. The bandages were layered thick, in order to lessen any injuries she might take during her ventures in Kirkwall's streets. However, it did leave her arms and shoulders bare, and revealed many of the scars that her clothes hid. Discolored lines cut up to the shoulder on one arm, and down the forearm on the other, as well as a few indentations earned from her years fighting beside her friends. She caught the staring blush of Donnelly across the table, which caused her to look at one of her arms.
"This one?" she stated with a grin, pointing at the scar at her shoulder. "A parting gift from a pirate, on his own boat. Rilien was there," she said, jabbing another finger into his ribs. "I like your scarf by the way," she added rather abruptly, wagging an eyebrow at the article in question before slipping into a grin.
If it were possible for Rilien to feel amusement, it was a fair bet that he did right now. It would seem that Lucien became somewhat less decorous when drunk, and Aurora somewhat more forward. Of course, this extended to himself only insofar as he intermittently found himself poked in the ribs or the arm or something of that nature. Supposing that Lucien was going to play this round through, Rilien chose to fold. He would lose only a few silvers by doing so, and his cards werenât worth risking more for when another player seemed bound to call any bluff anyway. So he ceded, leaving the round to be between Donnelly, Lucien, and Aurora. It would likely be the last anyway, as everyone seemed to be at about the amount of lost clothing they could take with good humor. And some discomfort, of course.
"It is nice to be appreciated, Sophia."
Lucien cleared his throat slightly awkwardly, not even initially noticing that Rilien had chosen to fold. He was, perhaps understandably, quite distracted at the moment, and wondered if the perceptible increase in temperature was the room, the alcohol, or the skin-to-skin contact with Sophia. He had a feeling he knew which. Shaking his head slightly, he put in a valiant effort to refocus on what was in front of him, which at the moment included the fact that Donnelly, now gingerly placing his short scarf on the table, was quite red in the face.
âUh⊠I mean, thanks. Itâs um⊠my aunt made it for me. Youâre pretty tooâI mean. Your scarf. Itâs uh⊠yeah. Pretty.â Well, Lucien could not help but think, at least he wasnât quite that bad anymore. Probably hadnât been since he was thirteen. Perhaps growing up in court just meant growing up faster, at least in some respects.
âAll right, turn them over then.â Lucien had a pair of cups and a pair of crowns, which wasnât bad. Donnelly only had a pair of tens. Both looked over to Aurora thereafter, curious as to what sheâd been playing with.
A lone pair of swords.
Aurora stared at Lucien's cards before looking at hers again, switching back and forth between them. "Wait..." She sputtered. She hoped that maybe if she looked just a little harder that she'd find maybe she imagined his two pairs and that she'd won instead. No matter how closely she stared however, the cards never changed, and a rosy tint seeped into her features. "Well." she uttered as she cradled her forehead.
"At least it's not cold tonight, right?" She offered Donnelly with a smile.