Mag Paget, Shotgun Knight (clippedwing) wrote in emillion, |
Mag pushed up her own mask and shook the offered hand and smiled. "Bonjour. Mag Paget, not a bard, and the world thanks me for it. I'm a Knight in the Fighters' Guild." The girl couldn't be yet twenty, Mag was sure. "Ari mentioned you're a mage?" “A Knight? How exciting!” Perdita said. “And yes, I am a mage. A Scholar to be more precise. It’s not as thrilling of an occupation as Knights and Bards, but we all have to start somewhere, do we not?” Perdita turned to Ari. “Now, if memory serves me right, you mentioned something about ‘the best caramel apple vendor when we were at the costumer’s the other day? I hope this mystery merchant is real and not some fantôme! Although that would be appropriate, considering the holiday…” she mused. Ari laughed and said, “No, he is quite real, mesdemoiselles, I assure. And we are the perfect shining example of cross-guild friendship and cooperation, are we not?” Since both Mag and Perdita were cheerful and good-humored, she saw no reason why they couldn’t get to know each other while sharing the treat. Ordalian expatriates were not as common as all that -- they needed to stick together, after all! “Perhaps,” she said, indicating the direction they were to go, “we will find a drink or two as well, so that we might hear this legendary singing of Mag’s at last. I must admit I find myself quite curious.” “Ah, but that’s part of the strategy. Keep saying how bad my singing is, so that if I ever sing in front of any of you, your expectations will be so low you may not want to go running for the hills,” she joked, laughing. She did not actually mind singing in public—the only reason she tried to abstain was out of deference to other people’s eardrums. “I never say no to free drinks, though.” She started to walk in the direction Ari had pointed, and with a smile at Perdita, teased, “We shouldn’t be on the lookout for a vendor wearing a white sheet over his head, then?” “Hm…” Perdita titled her head in mock thought. “I was thinking of something a little more supernatural than a white sheet. Intangibility! Levitating containers of caramel and apples! Vendors that disappear immediately after you purchase one of their wares, ooooooh!” She raised her arms and wiggled her fingers for extra emphasis. “So! This bar,” Perdita went on, doing her best to sound nonchalant (and probably failing at it. If there was one thing that Perdita couldn’t do, it was sound casual), “What’s its name? I’m afraid I haven’t been to many establishments far from the Tower.” She knew that there was no real reason to be nervous, but she still felt a twinge of anxiety as they stood in the street. “There are several bars in the Theatre District,” Ari said; this was quite the understatement. “That said, Mag, I didn’t say anything about free drinks; we will pay one way or another, though some venues here take payment in the form of entertainment -- perhaps you can convince them to pay you not to sing?” she teased. “In any case,” she said, taking them both by the arm and propelling them on, “sweets first, drinks later. She grinned and added, “If we have enough to drink, perhaps we will even begin to imagine intangibility, levitation, and other supernatural happenings.” |