Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-16 12:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, aspel cassul |
"We'll tell each other lies like we tell the truth...."
Who: Aspel & Ari
What: Tea & Lies.
Where: Ari’s apartment.
When: Backdated: Jan 6th - shortly after this.
Rating: PG-ish
Status: Complete (and ridiculous)
The proposal over the network had been - at least partially - a joke of sorts. Though, it had housed its own fair share of sincerity in the same regard. The thought of Ari willingly becoming so terribly inebriated that she were to tell Aspel all of sorts of stories was… An odd notion when sincerely considered. Why did that thought of the bard becoming blitzed seem so queerly endearing? Well… That was neither here nor there the smith had finally decided. Though, somehow, Aspel wouldn’t put the idea of Ari drinking her entire stash - in the name of a game - past the other woman, and it spurred forth a desire to assure the younger woman didn’t manage to obtain alcohol poisoning before the end of this eve. Thankfully, the rest of her day had been fairly calm, no real meetings, or trainings of note, and the paperwork - for once in her life - seemed to have slowed to a point of being worth putting off for a bit. Besides, getting herself into a proper mindset to handle only a handful of forms seemed nearly a waste with a perfectly good drunken Bard not all that terribly far away… With that, Aspel had gathered herself together, and headed out into the cold. A quick stop off at one of the - in her opinion - finer wine stockers in the Bazaar quickly armed her with the promised bottle of spirits (and an extra - just for good measure), and from there the trip down familiar paths quickly lead her towards the other woman’s door. While the day wasn’t precisely as freezing as Ari claimed it, the chill still threatened to settle in her bones if she stayed out for too long, and urged Aspel into a rapid rapping of knuckles against wood with the last step defeated up to Ari’s apartment. Huffing out a breath, steam filled the air in front of her face, and the cold did bite into the moisture of her body, threatening to freeze even that if she stayed out for too long. “I do hope you are not blitzed enough as to be unable to fetch the door.” Really, the smith couldn’t help but tease through the door. What a hilarious picture that would be. The door, fortunately, would open, though with some delay. Ari would be revealed, clad in a massive sweater far too large for her frame (she seemed to recall Drake leaving it behind sometime last winter) and with a smile on her face that quite clearly implied she had indeed been drinking. “What a lightweight you take me for, that an hour and a bottle and a half of wine ought to have me incapable of opening doors,” she said, shaking her head in mock disappointment. Her very warm hands were placed on Aspel’s cheeks, and she leaned in for a rather enthusiastic kiss before pulling back and beginning to tug the other woman through the door. “You’re freezing,” she accused. “Get in here.” Inside, the coffee table would reveal an array of bottles and the couch itself a blanket which had been hastily tossed aside, making a quite clear picture of where she had been nesting. “I ran out of mulled wine,” she admitted, “and wasn’t dedicated enough to make -- or order -- more, so it is just the contents of my makeshift wine cellar now. Though if you prefer tea,” she teased -- it had been tea and lies, after all -- “do let me know.” "Ah, but if I had known you were drinking so slowly..." Aspel teased, intentionally letting her sentence linger, and fall away. Though the sudden touch, and kiss were easily met yet just as the smith was interested in trying to deepen it a bit, perhaps turn tea and lies into something else worthwhile of their time, she suddenly found the other woman's lips removed. It would take a second for her brain to fully formulate the pull off her hand, but not long enough to cause any real troubles, and the door was easily kicked closed behind her once entry had been made. "If I prefer?" Aspel parroted with a brief laugh, a hand rising to press against her chest in mock indignation. "Perhaps, as it so cold outside, and I would loathe for our titled meeting to go awry, my first drink would be best served as tea. For sake of our agreement of course." A wink followed before a soft kiss would be pressed against the top of Ari's head and the two bottles of wine Aspel had picked up would be set down on her way towards the kitchen. "Do the lies start before the tea, or in conjunction with?" Came the terribly amused comment from the kitchen as the smith began making her tea. Ari detoured to pick up her glass; by the time she joined Aspel in the kitchen (her gait perhaps just slightly swaying, but still quite confident), the other woman seemed to have the chore well in hand. However, at the question, Ari laughed brightly, then sipped from her glass before answering: “Darling, they began the moment I answered the door; I am at least two and a half bottles in, but I do aim to please -- hardly anything I’ll say to you tonight will be true, as demanded, since you prefer to disbelieve my ice trick.” Expression amused, she polished off her glass and said, “I could have been further into my cups had you not arrived so quickly, though I can’t say I’m sorry about it. How fares the unending paperwork? Has it gained sentience and attempted to devour you yet?” As the bard walked in behind her, Aspel couldn’t help the way her smile slightly picked up. Though, Ari’s new admission earned a briefly disbelieving scoff, which was easily followed by an amused shake of head. “Demanded?” Another soft laugh filled with disbelief would be earned. “I do believe I demanded no such thing, a mere suggestion would be more suiting.” Finally with the water set to boil, the smith would turn to face the other woman, a soft smile remaining across her face. Letting Ari continue on, Aspel shifted, reaching out to place her hands on the other woman’s hips and gently guide the bard close so that she would be within comfortable holding distance. “Nor would I expect you to be. You are terribly selfish at times, stealing me away from life sucking paperwork, and squires - and supposedly full grown men that cry much like babes - in desperate need of guidance.” Wetting her lips, there seemed to be a consideration given for a moment before Aspel shifted, stepping in a bit closer to the bard. “And by the rules of your game, if I asked for you inclination to sleep with me, you would say…?” It was a wicked question to ask, but somehow she simply couldn’t find it within herself to help but ask. “Hmm…” Ari made a show of considering it for only a moment before yawning widely and saying, with a near-perfect poker face (spoiled only slightly by partial inebriation), “Sounds a bit dull, darling, actually, I am sorry to say. I’ve taken up knitting -- a fine way to pass the time waiting for auditions to begin, I will have you know -- and really I’d much rather finish the sock I’ve been working at for the last three weeks. I am told mastery takes patience. In any case,” a light, playful kiss would be placed against the tip of Aspel’s nose, “better luck next time. You wouldn’t like your tea to oversteep, now would you?” She stepped nimbly out of the way, collecting her glass and going back into the living room to refill it, her words sounding from the adjoining room as she did so. “I am, by the by, utterly selfless -- offering to share my wine and my precious tea stash, not to mention rescuing you from a night sure to be duller for the lack of having me in it. I haven’t any idea why you haven’t commenced in thanking me yet; surely I have earned this much for giving up my quiet, solitary evening.” She returned to the kitchen, glass once again full, and held it up in the air. “Cheers.” There was a few seconds in which the sincerity that Ari spoke with actually derailed Aspel entirely. Had she really failed to perform that miraculously that the bard would consider her nothing more than dull? Had Ari faked every- ………… Knitting….. Knitting. “Ah,” Aspel’s face had so briefly fallen, that it felt like almost no change at all to switch back to her state of distanced consideration - though Ari would be able to tell, of course she would - that she hoped the sincerity of the unintended strike of the other woman at Aspel’s - sometimes - fragile state of existence would be missed. “a sock you say?” There was an odd bit of hesitance surrounding the question, even if she attempted to infuse it with a muted back of amusement. “I do believe I would enjoy seeing your progress on this project.” And honestly, the idea how Ari working on anything that wasn’t art for more than three weeks - Aspel aside - was nearly laughable. “I would be uncertain. Even oversteeped tea can taste far better than some other things.” A pretend passive jab, with an absent cant of her head to one side would be offered. Though, the new barrage of commentary earned a brief barked laugh. “I hardly see any need to thank the blitzed for their questionable company. The only real offering you have a successfully managed is separating me from more of my hard earned gil by having to bring a polite gift to your flat.” Shifting, the smith stepped up, moving to finish her tea. “Alas,” Ari said, straight-faced, “I have been knitting with invisible wool. You could not see the sock even were I to show it to you. It does make it rather hard to complete, but I’ll keep trying.” The momentary lapse of good humor had been noted, but she chose not to comment upon it; this was, after all, a sort of game, and she didn’t do anything by half measures. If Aspel couldn’t separate the lies from the few grains of truth tonight well… Ari expected she’d find a way to make it up later. But really, this was just in fun, wasn’t it? “And yet,” she pointed out, “you came, so I suppose my questionable company has something to offer after all.” In the living room, she settled onto the couch and patted the cushion next to her. “The politeness of your offering is indeed noted; I will, perhaps, gift you with an invisible scarf in a year or two -- which is surely how long it will take me to complete it.” “But of course then there is something to feel, no?” The tea cup was brought up to easily be blown over. “Even the blind must feel.” The smith had managed to drop back into a mildly serious tone, something dismissive easily held within her tone and gestures. “It lacks a loud and blustering bar full of drunks who would care to make passes at the only female councilor of the Fighter’s guild to prove how much more brave, strong, and capable they are than some meager woman, correct.” The words were provided without hesitation, and in a rather factual manner. Taking a moment to slowly make her way into the living room, an eyebrow was raised before a polite nod of her head was given towards Ari’s gesture. With that out of the way, Aspel leaned against a nearby end of a bookshelf, one leg absently crossing behind the other to place the majority of her weight on one leg. “A year or two you say? Pity, I am uncertain I shall be about to obtain your gift in that time.” “I lose it,” Ari answered without hesitation. “Often. Which relates to how long it’s taken me to get even this far, I suppose. If I happen upon it among all this,” a gesture to her cheerfully cluttered space, “I shall be certain to call you right away.” At Aspel’s refusal to join her on the couch, Ari gave her a curious look, then shrugged and used the opportunity to sprawl, much as she had been doing before the other woman’s arrival. “I am only one drunk, but I can challenge you to single combat if that will make you feel more at home,” she offered. “Thumb wrestling, perhaps. I feel fairly confident in my ability to emerge victorious. Meager woman as I am, of course.” Another toast in Aspel’s general direction, and the glass was already half empty. Funny how easily wine went down, especially when she knew that a long period of abstention was just around the corner. “Unfortunate, that,” she said, and found herself hoping that this statement, too was only a contribution to the game at hand. “I hope you intend to go somewhere nice. I hear the Feywood is lovely this time of year, or perhaps the Paramina Rift. Nothing beats snow and monsters in obscene quantities. They are my two favorite things.” Eyes had lingered down to the cup held between her hands while leaning against the bookshelf. Just how far this game extended was a bit… Complex. Was it words only? “Why do you simply not pin it with something not invisible then?” It was a simple logic, an easy flow of the conversation as the tea was brought up to be blow over briefly once more. “A brute’s sport, I assure.” The reply to thumb wrestling was smooth, the transition seemingly thoughtless as she spoke, a careful sip of tea to follow. The toast earned another nod of her head, but it was not greeted otherwise. Though, there went Ari, launching off once more into another series of words. “Is it? Ah, well, I must admit a fondness of my solitude. I was debating a jaunt off to the frozen north. Perhaps hide myself away to spinster status. It would be suiting of me, no?” “Now there’s a brilliant idea. The next time I find it, I shall be certain to do so,” Ari said. And that was that as far as she was concerned regarding the imaginary invisible sock. “Alone?” she asked, feigning shock as she regarded the other woman over the rim of her -- now mostly empty -- glass. “Well that’s unfortunate -- who would entertain and irritate you if you went alone? I would have offered my company -- freezing is ever so much fun -- but I suppose I shall have to remain behind. Though as for spinster status,” she grinned and pointed out, “we’re in that respectable society together. Audrey keeps threatening to make badges, though she will not be among us long, I imagine.” She paused a moment before asking, “Shall I hide myself away as well, do you think? A hut in the desert would suit me very well. I could think deep thoughts all alone, when I wasn’t bemoaning my sad fate. “Or,” a tap of her finger against her chin, as though deep in thought, “I suppose we could mutually put an end to our spinsterhood. My mother would weep tears of joy, I am certain -- but then your solitary retreat to the frozen north might get canceled, and that would be terribly sad for you.” “Though, I suspect, you could simply wear a portion of sock at all times as well.” Unfortunately, Aspel still found the notion of an invisible sock something that had potential for significant amusement, assuming it was played well of course. “Does it make the wearer’s foot invisible? Or does it just appear as if nothing is worn at all?” A slight smile rose. “You must forgive the questions, I have never worked with such material before is all.” A hand idly waved off the questions presented, another brief blow of air given over the mug of tea before sipping again. “I have spent so many years surrounded by such a various number of sorts that I do believe that I have begun to wear myself out on the concept of human interaction. Unfortunate in some regards I suppose, but solitude does have a certain well defined appeal at this point in my life.” It’d certainly assure she never hurt anyone again, and that her secrets remained safe. “With your enjoyment of the cold as you mentioned, a hut in the desert would be an atrocious plan. Assuming you wished to remain intact of course, yet, if you desire to melt, I would be certain that the following fanfare would be befitting.” Another sip from her tea was taken, as it was finally of an appropriate temperature to easily drink. The notion of the implied marriage earned a brief burst of laughter, a smile slightly pained arising from the commentary while eyes remained removed. “Ah, but I fear your poor mother may just die from the shock, a pity that would be, no need to impose such challenge upon her, I assure.” “Sounds uncomfortable,” Ari said with a laugh. “Wearing a partial sock at all times, tripping on invisible threads as they trail behind… such a terrible bother. But imagine, wearing a scarf that makes one’s neck invisible; it is an idea for Eve of the Holy Saints, truly.” And utterly ludicrous, but that was rather the point. “Perhaps I wish to suffer. I could have quite recently developed a taste for self-flagellation. Or melting, if it comes to that. Else, I might end up just across the tundra from your hermitage, which defeats the point of trying to get away from people. I am certain you can think of little more unpleasant than being stuck with naught but me for a neighbor for the rest of your life.” Her expression amused, she finished off her glass, eyeing the next bottle. “I wonder,” she said, “if I can get this open without pouring half of it over my person.” She had been drinking rather rapidly, after all. “Let’s see,” she decided, and gamely went for the corkscrew as she continued talking. “And as for my mother, your concern for her well-being is touching; it is fortunate I haven’t been haunting the jewelers, I suspect.” A pause, then, “How is your tea?” “I suspect that would depend upon how you handle the strings. One could tie the strings about the back of their ankle, no?” Though, then the thought of a scarf which made one’s neck disappear was… “A garb for the headless Chocoboman himself.” Another easy sip of her tea, absent really, the drinking more passive in nature, an automatic action more so than a thoughtful motion. “Win me back with your brutish thumb wrestling? Is that your idea?” A low thoughtful hum was earned, another dismissive action of sorts. “I fear that I may be quite excellent at hiding in the tundra, Seraph. Kerwon is half ice after all.” Well, not quite half, but who really bothered to venture around it that much? “I suspect.” The words were parrotted as a sort of confirmation to Ari’s assumption regarding her mother’s well being. Though, the notion of having a family, and Aspel was like daggers in the heart, best to attempt to derail this conversation as quickly as possible. “My tea is well, thank you.” “I am very skilled at thumb wrestling. Nearly as skilled as I am at gils.” Which was to say, not at all (her failure at the drinking game was well documented by this time). “You would certainly be overcome with emotion over it.” That the emotion was likelier than not to be mirth, well… “In my limitless patience, I would be certain to ferret you out in the end if I were really determined; then again, perhaps I am better served by my lonely hut in the desert after all, to save you the trouble of hiding from me?” A laugh followed the statement about the tea and Ari shook her head, saying, “Well, is it? It seems rather than your paperwork gaining sentience, your tea has done so in its stead; whatever shall we do about that? I do hope it is a benign lifeform at least.” “Emotion, you say?” A slight raising of brows would occur before a brief bowing of her head. “As you wish.” The words were easy, an odd dismissive mechanism of defense more than a real thought or response. However, the thought of Ari acting much like a ferret was more than its fair share of humorous but… “Ah, perhaps you would be.” The hut would make the bard’s life easier, that was undoubtedly assured. It took a brief second to realize just how stuck in her own head Aspel had been when Ari broke out in laughter. The smile surfacing was slightly forced. “But of course.” If anything, no one could ever say that Aspel was incapable of rolling with punches. “It has been making comments the entire times, mouthy bit it is. Makes it terribly difficult to keep up in conversation with you.” “As you like,” Ari said agreeably. “I shall tell all of my devastated fans to write to you if they’ve objection to my sudden disappearance: To Aspel Cassul, Northern Tundra, Coordinates Unknown. The postman shall find you for me eventually, so inundated will he be. Then you will be forced to come to the desert and track me down before it will stop. Possibly I will tame a great wyrm for my pet and you shall have to solve a dozen riddles before it allows you through to find me, like in a proper tale. Mustn’t make things too simple.” Another laugh as she urged, “Do tell it to speak louder, I am quite fascinated with tales of its mouthiness. I imagine if my wine could speak it would simply say, ’Drink me, Ari, so that you may become even more ridiculous.’ Pretty soon, there will be no conversation to keep up; I shall descend into senseless babble any minute now, if I haven’t already.” “Ah, but I shall need something to burn with which to keep myself warm, no? The tundra is quite cold.” Which, the commentary alone was rather cold in of itself, but… They were playing a game, weren’t they? Maybe - in some childish way - the game could easily play as cover for the bit of hurt that still lingered at the unintentional jab that had been made to what little ego Aspel had not long ago. Even if it was only a lie. It was foolish, stupid, irrational to be bothered by it, but she couldn’t help the lingering feeling, even if the smith tried to push them off to the side. Though, the idea of Ari managing to obtain herself a dragon and Aspel having to fight her way through those perils - if with mind or fist - did hold an odd sort of charm. Then came the commentary regarding talking tea and booze. “If it were to say that to you, what do you believe your wine would wish upon me?” Really, what her tea said, and any topic regarding the smith herself just seemed potential for mess now, and really, Ari ought to be inebriated enough to not completely take notice of Aspel shifting the conversational focus back to the bard. It was just easier that way. “I suppose in that case, you will eventually have a stroke of conscience and come out to find and thank me for keeping you warm -- indirectly, from a distance,” Ari said. Her feelings were unlikely to be hurt by anything said here, though she had to notice the conversation -- which she had mostly intended to be so much lighthearted malarkey -- had taken a spiteful turn once or twice. “I imagine the wine might say, ‘Drink me, Aspel, Ari might die if she doesn’t have help, and besides I’m nicer than the tea and promise not to judge you or make pithy commentary about your terrible taste in company.’” She held up the bottle, which she had finally managed to get open, and said, “Do you want some?” “You assume I have one.” A soft smile was offered. “A conscience that is.” And perhaps that clarification was an even bigger lie than the invisible socks. Though, sometimes the smith honestly wished the previous words were more truth than fantasy. Maybe if they had been, she would have been stronger, she would have been able to move forward with the greater good instead of caving like the weakling she clearly had become. “Is that so?” For the first time since the assured beginning of their game, a faint hint of amusement cracked through with the upturning of lips. Eyes dipped down taking in the contents of her mug before with a slight roll of her shoulders the cup was brought up and the contents of the entire cup downed in one gulp. A slight huff of air would follow before the smith righted her stance, and moved offering out her cup towards the held bottle of wine. “I would loathe to disappoint.” “Shouldn’t I?” It wasn’t something to pry into right at the moment, however, so she shrugged and said, “Ah, well, my assumptions are so often incorrect, you know. My burden to bear.” When Aspel polished off her tea and extended the hand holding her cup, however, Ari’s small, amused smile became quite a bit wider and she reached to carefully (and slowly -- mustn’t repeat the mistakes mate at Miles’ house when it was her carpet) fill the cup with wine. “Wine from a teacup -- how decadent we are.” And with the tea done, so was the game -- as far as Ari was concerned -- so she once again patted the couch and said, “Now, really, why don’t you come over here and keep me warm while we decimate the rest of this? You’re too far away by my standards.” "A matter of debate." And really, Aspel would leave it at that, especially if Ari was not one to press this night. "But if course, I have never known you to allow any less." Though the problem with this game was, honestly, the smith wasn't entirely sure when it was supposed to be over. "Come near, you say?" A curious quirking of brow was taken as the mug of wine was brought up for a sniff. "Does that mean I ought to be headed off to the tundra now?" If they were set in lies still, this obviously was the best one yet. Though, the territory here would be careful to navigate otherwise Aspel may end up sporting a particularly well bruised ego before the end of the night. Maybe this was a topic to steer clear of as well... Time would tell. “Why, would you actually like to go?” Ari asked. It dawned on her a few moments later and she found herself giggling before she pointed out, “Tea and lies, wasn’t it? The tea portion of the evening seems to be over with; I’d thought to finish with the lies at this point, too, though if you prefer mad tales of my adventures taming wyverns in the wild, I am glad to provide.” She went back to her own wine before saying, “I’d be sorry to see you go, I must admit, but perhaps the… tea was not to your liking?” When Ari pointed out what may have been obvious to any normal, sane, and rational person, Aspel couldn't help but feel a fool. Then, she seemed to fumble all over herself with increasing frequency as of late. The smith hadn't quite been truly right after living through her near possibly death experience with the plague. "Ah, I suspect you are right." Was the best she could give, even if it felt nearly as lame as it sounded to be so dumb. A soft smile was ventured - something a bit oddly skittish nipping at the corner of it - before Aspel gestured to where Ari had just motioned a moment before, as if to indicate a silent agreement to the terms before she sat. Aspel couldn't help but blink at the question regarding the tea and her preferences, a slight huff of air escaping as she relaxed a bit into the couch. "The tea was fine, had I complained?" The question was... Sincerely confused on some level. She hadn't recalled making comment of it being bad... Was she just so tired as to have forgotten? “Much better,” Ari said, immediately using the opportunity to lean against the other woman’s side. Really, the entire evening would have been much improved if Aspel had been sitting here to begin with; one of Ari’s hands rested on her knee as it to remind her to stay put now that she was here. “No,” she said. “You didn’t complain about the tea, that’s certainly a fact.” But it had rather seemed that she’d found this particular game far more amusing than Aspel had. “The wine, however, seems friendlier all around, wouldn’t you agree?” She leaned close to the cup, as if listening, before stating, “No pithy commentary here.” A kiss was placed upon Aspel’s cheek before Ari returned to her own drink. “You know,” she said, “we’ve a great deal of wine to get through yet tonight. I do hope you’re planning on catching up to me.” Shifting, an arm raised, wrapping easily around the bard’s shoulders as the other woman settled in against her. Leave it to Ari to close the distance between them quick enough once things seemed cleared away from their game. Though, the sudden lean in, ear facing down towards the cup earned a slight quirking of brow, that was, of course, until the bard spoke. “Wine is generally far less judgmental. How often do you hear of the snobbery of wine in comparison to tea?” Her tone was light, the jest barely there, almost like her energy for such things had significantly diminished. The kiss, would earn a slight smile, and the challenge of a sorts would be noted with a raising of her cup. “Luckily for you, my schedule tomorrow is quite clear.” Faram knew she’d feel it in the morn. “I suppose we had best get started then,” Ari said. There was quite a lot of afternoon to go yet, and the evening after that, but there was also quite a lot of wine. She gave little thought to the state she was likely to find herself in tomorrow -- for now, she was entirely content with both wine and company. “Here’s to wine, which will always love us and never question our life choices.” She clinked her glass against Aspel’s teacup and, still smiling, took a drink. |