Post by Jaezred Vandree on Aug 25, 2023 7:58:12 GMT
(Following the events of Glory and Gore.)
Work in the Witching Court has kept Jaezred away from the fiore popolare — his favourite bar in the whole wide world — for over a month now, but thankfully no longer. Nothing good can come of depriving him of the pleasures of exotic cocktails.
Tonight, he is mingling with the upper class patrons as usual, telling jokes, spilling tea, laughing. All seems well, except whenever he goes to the bar to get more drinks. As he waits for Leona Autumn to make his order, the mask slips ever so slightly — a pensiveness that weighs heavily on his brow, yet is promptly wiped away when someone strikes up a conversation with him.
It does not go unnoticed by Leona. But she waits for the hours to creep towards midnight, when all other customers have filed out of the doors.
There is only one other patron left in the bar: an elven man, silver haired and bespectacled, but he is on the far side of the room. Still, Leona knows enough about Jaezred that he will feel more comfortable opening up if there is a less likelihood of being overheard. With a twist of her wrist and a few murmured words the greenery thickens around them, the feeling of warding and protecting rising up his legs as he leans ever so slightly against the bar.
“Everything alright?” the mixologist asks, pulling ingredients and bottles towards her as she mixes a cocktail.
Jaezred glances over his shoulder at the thickening greenery with a grateful look. His cheeks are slightly flushed after a night of drinking, a faint pink colour on his dark skin.
“Alright? No, no, I’m afraid I can’t say everything is alright,” he says, sighing.
Leona’s auburn brow furrows. “Would it have anything to do with a certain returned faction to the Feywild?”
“Well… Yes. Sort of. Have you heard what happened? The Wild Hunt was humiliated by less than a dozen Dawnlands adventurers. I mean, we should be happy, right? Turns out they’re not the scary, invincible boogeyman everyone thinks they are.”
“I had not heard that,” she says, sounding both surprised and confused. She concentrates on mixing Jaezred a drink made of moonlight before she speaks. “Was the Lord of the Hunt there?”
“Apparently so. They were raiding a mountain valley straddling the border between Winter and Summer. They left covered in pig shit and with their Great Mount maimed.” He lets out a dry, humourless chuckle.
“Someone hurt the Ceryneian Hind?” Leona asks, head snapping up. “How badly? Is she still alive?”
“Someone cut off the Ceryneian Hind’s leg and was in a position to deal a coup de grace, but…decided not to.”
Leona stares at the drow lord, stunned. The half-made concoction swirls in the mixing flask is the only thing near her moving.
“So she is still alive, then.”
The gruesome news clearly shocks Leona. But there’s something else, something only Jaezred could see flickering in her black eyes beneath her guise of a young human woman. He’s not sure if she even knows or realises what it is yet.
“Do you… Forgive me for asking, my dear Miss Leona, but do you wish she is not?”
“Well, I mean— It’s…” She realises she has only partially finished mixing and suddenly continues. “It’s just a shock, is all. Which might sound surprising considering my reaction when Lady Oziah and the others helped her get her memory back…” She sets the thin, tall glass in front of Jaezred, its midnight blue broken by wispy rays of whitish light. “I guess…the one who maimed the Hind hasn’t had any…trouble?”
He studies Leona’s face for a long second. “Don’t worry, Miss Leona, I am the very last person in the world who’d judge you for having vengeful thoughts,” he says quietly as he takes up the drink.
She shakes her head, a half smile wiping away some of the worry. “I know, my lord. Vengeance for myself was not what I meant. Though if I’m honest I’m not sure what it is that troubles me…” She trails off. She tidies up her workstation behind the bar a little and asks, “What do you think of it all?”
Jaezred takes a draught of the cocktail, letting the moonlight wash over his stomach, the feeling of home releasing some of the tension in his chest. A welcome reprieve, though today it comes accompanied with a small anxiety.
“As you know, I put little stock in the surfacer ideas of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. What matters to me is consequence. And I suppose that’s what troubles me.” He puts both his palms up, as if about to illustrate a theoretical concept for her. “Let’s say I have a friend. A friend who lives in the same place as I do and who may or may not have done a certain thing to a certain magical deer.”
Leona gives him a look, pressing her palms together under her nose. “Okay…”
“Now, I tried talking my friend out of hunting this magical deer. I was deeply worried about how her actions would reflect upon the place in which we live and our q— our…boss. I still am. But she did not listen. I don’t understand why. I know she went through some”—he waves his hands vaguely about—“intense personal trauma lately, but surely this is out of control. Imryll is adamant that trying to change our friend’s course is a hopeless endeavour. And so…I don’t know what to do. I’m at a loss, Leona.”
“It sounds like…a difficult situation. One full of emotions on both sides…” Leona sighs. “Sometimes emotions can prevent us from actually hearing what another is trying to say to us.”
She leans in close. “Did you speak to your boss about this before your friend went off and did her little errand?”
“No, because the boss lady is always busy and if she wanted this…” Jaezred grinds his teeth, stopping himself from uttering profanities. “…errand stopped, she would have said so. I can’t imagine she’s happy about this, though. I can’t see any outcome from this other than the deer people getting madder and more determined. And what’s more…” He clicks his tongue as he slowly turns the cocktail glass on the bar. “Let’s say one of the deer people, who had died by the hand of our friend, was perhaps related to someone important. Theoretically.”
“How important?”
“Someone high up in another place. Someone you know.”
“Okay…” Leona drawls out again, still holding that look of concern on her face.
“Well, now you know how I’ve been feeling all week.”
Leona starts mixing a new drink for herself. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but…did your friend know who it was they, um, killed? How did she find out?”
“Not until this important someone confronted her about it. I count ourselves lucky they didn’t tussle over it.”
“Hmm.”
Leona finishes making her drink, placing it across from Jaezred’s. She stares into it, watching the flecks of amber that look like leaves, swirling in a lackadaisical dance in the vibrant red liquid shot with shimmering veins of hazel brown.
“The fey can have an exceedingly long memory when it comes to any perceived wrong. There was…a follower of my liege, someone who was as devout as the most zealous fiend from Avernus. They came to this town seeking the ones who had written a song full of ‘embarrassing lyrics’. They were beaten back, but not cowed. If anything, they were even more determined. Things…escalated, culminating in a duel. This fey died still seeking revenge against a wrong that was…insignificant.” She looks at Jaezred.
Lord Jaezred sighs. He pats the stool next to his, inviting her to sit down.
“This friend of mine, she is a drow too, but we could not be more different. I am of the dark depths and she is of the surface and the sun. And yet, she too possesses these streaks I see in our people. These streaks of…zealotry and violence.” His hands resting on the bar clench into fists. “It’s what makes us…us.”
“I think everyone has the potential to be zealous or violent if the right circumstances or events happen to someone,” Leona says, sitting down beside him. She angles herself to be half-facing him. “It sounds like your friend is really struggling, though. You see it and you want to do something about it. But you don’t know how…”
She places a hand over his clenched fist, her thumb brushing the back of his hand comfortingly. His muscles relax at her touch.
“I understand that feeling,” she says. “If you could do something to help, what would you choose to do?”
“Short of putting her in a time-out demiplane? I have no idea,” he replies with a defeated shake of the head. “I’m not good at this sort of thing. Perhaps Imryll is right. Perhaps she is beyond my — or anyone’s — reach now, and I do nothing but pick up after her mess.”
“The answer may come to you yet,” she says, tilting her head. Leona tries for a reassuring smile and it succeeds, somewhat. “Sometimes people go where we cannot follow. Sometimes…all we can do is hope we meet them on the other side of the woods.”
“Maybe she will get out of the woods… But what about the rest of us? The people lost in the mist because of her?”
“That…is a good point.” Leona reaches for her glass and takes a big gulp of her still-swirling crimson concoction. “Hmm. I am no expert on these— …deer people. But if this one deer was severely injured, they might be looking to help make her better. There might also be a counter move coming with the support of an allied…herd.”
“That allied herd is part of the problem, isn’t it? They’re so much bigger. We need to keep the peace…” Jaezred pauses to take a long draught of his moonlit cocktail. “Would an olive branch in the form of an offer of healing be accepted, do you think?”
She shrugs. “Could be worth a try? The worst that could happen is a refusal…”
“The worst that could happen,” Jaezred says bleakly, “is they ask for another price. A hefty price. An eye for an eye, a limb for a limb. And what would it look like if we refused? Because I guarantee you, our friend will not go along with it.”
Leona looks up towards the stained glass window of the willow dryad. “That’s why you have to be sure. When you offer you don’t do it without something more to back it up. Something else they may want…” She glances at Jaezred.
“Indeed… If only finding what they want isn’t a bleeding pain in the arse. Bloody politics.”
She lets out a small laugh. “You know, I have never met anyone who actually likes playing that game.”
“When it’s good, it’s really quite fun. But when it’s bad, it’s like chopping your own fingers off.” He nods at her autumnal-looking cocktail. “Speaking of fun, what is that? I don’t think I've ever seen that one before, or more importantly, tasted it.”
“Oh, this one?” Leona looks down at the half empty glass. “It’s new. First time I’ve gotten the flavour right. Been trying to make it for the past month.” Her eyes flick up to his and she blushes. “Would you like to try it, Lord Jaezred?”
“I would love to try it,” he murmurs, a genuine smile forming on his lips at last.
“Then let me make you a fresh one,” she says getting up.
Jaezred sits back and watches the master at her craft — always one of his favourite sights. It is not too long before a pear-shaped, stemmed glass full of the same mysterious cocktail is placed in front of him. Leona props her elbows on the bar and rests her chin unto her hands, waiting and expectant.
Jaezred sits up straighter and takes the glass in hand for a sip. The first sensation he notices is the refreshing floral small wafting up from the glass as he brings it up to his lips. The rosy lemon pairs perfectly with the fresh lime, bergamot, and cardamom. When he does take a sip it is as if a potion of rejuvenation seeps into chest, whilst the vapours rise up to ease his mind. He still feels the worry of their conversation, the uncertainty of what Zola’s actions may mean for his home, what — if anything — can be done to rectify or dampen the repercussions… But they are not as heavy. His eyes are sharp and bright as he looks back to Leona’s eager waiting face.
“Mmm…” He breathes in for an aftertaste that lingers on the roof of his mouth before taking a second sip, letting the flavours roll anew on his refined palate. “Strong citrus notes with a dose of floral and a touch of spice, which is a very pleasant combination, though I don’t seem to detect what spirits are being used here? Did you use an emotion liqueur, or a potion? I seem to feel…a little better.”
“Just liqueur. Though for you a little special magic my mother taught me…” Leona blushes. “I’m delighted you like it.”
He gives her a warm smile. “Well, this is a special one, then. Thank you, Miss Leona. With a little tweaking, I do believe this could be another fiore popolare signature. Do you have a name for it?”
“A Salve to Sooth,” she says, smiling.
“Hm. You always know how to soothe my soul.” Jaezred gently grasps her hand and places a kiss, light as a night breeze, on her knuckles. “Thank you, Leona, you have given me much to think about. Ah, if only drinking cocktails could solve the problems in our lives.”
Leona holds onto his hand as she says, “So long as you’re here, these cocktails will do what they can. It’s the least I can do.”
Co-written with Riah
Work in the Witching Court has kept Jaezred away from the fiore popolare — his favourite bar in the whole wide world — for over a month now, but thankfully no longer. Nothing good can come of depriving him of the pleasures of exotic cocktails.
Tonight, he is mingling with the upper class patrons as usual, telling jokes, spilling tea, laughing. All seems well, except whenever he goes to the bar to get more drinks. As he waits for Leona Autumn to make his order, the mask slips ever so slightly — a pensiveness that weighs heavily on his brow, yet is promptly wiped away when someone strikes up a conversation with him.
It does not go unnoticed by Leona. But she waits for the hours to creep towards midnight, when all other customers have filed out of the doors.
There is only one other patron left in the bar: an elven man, silver haired and bespectacled, but he is on the far side of the room. Still, Leona knows enough about Jaezred that he will feel more comfortable opening up if there is a less likelihood of being overheard. With a twist of her wrist and a few murmured words the greenery thickens around them, the feeling of warding and protecting rising up his legs as he leans ever so slightly against the bar.
“Everything alright?” the mixologist asks, pulling ingredients and bottles towards her as she mixes a cocktail.
Jaezred glances over his shoulder at the thickening greenery with a grateful look. His cheeks are slightly flushed after a night of drinking, a faint pink colour on his dark skin.
“Alright? No, no, I’m afraid I can’t say everything is alright,” he says, sighing.
Leona’s auburn brow furrows. “Would it have anything to do with a certain returned faction to the Feywild?”
“Well… Yes. Sort of. Have you heard what happened? The Wild Hunt was humiliated by less than a dozen Dawnlands adventurers. I mean, we should be happy, right? Turns out they’re not the scary, invincible boogeyman everyone thinks they are.”
“I had not heard that,” she says, sounding both surprised and confused. She concentrates on mixing Jaezred a drink made of moonlight before she speaks. “Was the Lord of the Hunt there?”
“Apparently so. They were raiding a mountain valley straddling the border between Winter and Summer. They left covered in pig shit and with their Great Mount maimed.” He lets out a dry, humourless chuckle.
“Someone hurt the Ceryneian Hind?” Leona asks, head snapping up. “How badly? Is she still alive?”
“Someone cut off the Ceryneian Hind’s leg and was in a position to deal a coup de grace, but…decided not to.”
Leona stares at the drow lord, stunned. The half-made concoction swirls in the mixing flask is the only thing near her moving.
“So she is still alive, then.”
The gruesome news clearly shocks Leona. But there’s something else, something only Jaezred could see flickering in her black eyes beneath her guise of a young human woman. He’s not sure if she even knows or realises what it is yet.
“Do you… Forgive me for asking, my dear Miss Leona, but do you wish she is not?”
“Well, I mean— It’s…” She realises she has only partially finished mixing and suddenly continues. “It’s just a shock, is all. Which might sound surprising considering my reaction when Lady Oziah and the others helped her get her memory back…” She sets the thin, tall glass in front of Jaezred, its midnight blue broken by wispy rays of whitish light. “I guess…the one who maimed the Hind hasn’t had any…trouble?”
He studies Leona’s face for a long second. “Don’t worry, Miss Leona, I am the very last person in the world who’d judge you for having vengeful thoughts,” he says quietly as he takes up the drink.
She shakes her head, a half smile wiping away some of the worry. “I know, my lord. Vengeance for myself was not what I meant. Though if I’m honest I’m not sure what it is that troubles me…” She trails off. She tidies up her workstation behind the bar a little and asks, “What do you think of it all?”
Jaezred takes a draught of the cocktail, letting the moonlight wash over his stomach, the feeling of home releasing some of the tension in his chest. A welcome reprieve, though today it comes accompanied with a small anxiety.
“As you know, I put little stock in the surfacer ideas of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. What matters to me is consequence. And I suppose that’s what troubles me.” He puts both his palms up, as if about to illustrate a theoretical concept for her. “Let’s say I have a friend. A friend who lives in the same place as I do and who may or may not have done a certain thing to a certain magical deer.”
Leona gives him a look, pressing her palms together under her nose. “Okay…”
“Now, I tried talking my friend out of hunting this magical deer. I was deeply worried about how her actions would reflect upon the place in which we live and our q— our…boss. I still am. But she did not listen. I don’t understand why. I know she went through some”—he waves his hands vaguely about—“intense personal trauma lately, but surely this is out of control. Imryll is adamant that trying to change our friend’s course is a hopeless endeavour. And so…I don’t know what to do. I’m at a loss, Leona.”
“It sounds like…a difficult situation. One full of emotions on both sides…” Leona sighs. “Sometimes emotions can prevent us from actually hearing what another is trying to say to us.”
She leans in close. “Did you speak to your boss about this before your friend went off and did her little errand?”
“No, because the boss lady is always busy and if she wanted this…” Jaezred grinds his teeth, stopping himself from uttering profanities. “…errand stopped, she would have said so. I can’t imagine she’s happy about this, though. I can’t see any outcome from this other than the deer people getting madder and more determined. And what’s more…” He clicks his tongue as he slowly turns the cocktail glass on the bar. “Let’s say one of the deer people, who had died by the hand of our friend, was perhaps related to someone important. Theoretically.”
“How important?”
“Someone high up in another place. Someone you know.”
“Okay…” Leona drawls out again, still holding that look of concern on her face.
“Well, now you know how I’ve been feeling all week.”
Leona starts mixing a new drink for herself. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but…did your friend know who it was they, um, killed? How did she find out?”
“Not until this important someone confronted her about it. I count ourselves lucky they didn’t tussle over it.”
“Hmm.”
Leona finishes making her drink, placing it across from Jaezred’s. She stares into it, watching the flecks of amber that look like leaves, swirling in a lackadaisical dance in the vibrant red liquid shot with shimmering veins of hazel brown.
“The fey can have an exceedingly long memory when it comes to any perceived wrong. There was…a follower of my liege, someone who was as devout as the most zealous fiend from Avernus. They came to this town seeking the ones who had written a song full of ‘embarrassing lyrics’. They were beaten back, but not cowed. If anything, they were even more determined. Things…escalated, culminating in a duel. This fey died still seeking revenge against a wrong that was…insignificant.” She looks at Jaezred.
Lord Jaezred sighs. He pats the stool next to his, inviting her to sit down.
“This friend of mine, she is a drow too, but we could not be more different. I am of the dark depths and she is of the surface and the sun. And yet, she too possesses these streaks I see in our people. These streaks of…zealotry and violence.” His hands resting on the bar clench into fists. “It’s what makes us…us.”
“I think everyone has the potential to be zealous or violent if the right circumstances or events happen to someone,” Leona says, sitting down beside him. She angles herself to be half-facing him. “It sounds like your friend is really struggling, though. You see it and you want to do something about it. But you don’t know how…”
She places a hand over his clenched fist, her thumb brushing the back of his hand comfortingly. His muscles relax at her touch.
“I understand that feeling,” she says. “If you could do something to help, what would you choose to do?”
“Short of putting her in a time-out demiplane? I have no idea,” he replies with a defeated shake of the head. “I’m not good at this sort of thing. Perhaps Imryll is right. Perhaps she is beyond my — or anyone’s — reach now, and I do nothing but pick up after her mess.”
“The answer may come to you yet,” she says, tilting her head. Leona tries for a reassuring smile and it succeeds, somewhat. “Sometimes people go where we cannot follow. Sometimes…all we can do is hope we meet them on the other side of the woods.”
“Maybe she will get out of the woods… But what about the rest of us? The people lost in the mist because of her?”
“That…is a good point.” Leona reaches for her glass and takes a big gulp of her still-swirling crimson concoction. “Hmm. I am no expert on these— …deer people. But if this one deer was severely injured, they might be looking to help make her better. There might also be a counter move coming with the support of an allied…herd.”
“That allied herd is part of the problem, isn’t it? They’re so much bigger. We need to keep the peace…” Jaezred pauses to take a long draught of his moonlit cocktail. “Would an olive branch in the form of an offer of healing be accepted, do you think?”
She shrugs. “Could be worth a try? The worst that could happen is a refusal…”
“The worst that could happen,” Jaezred says bleakly, “is they ask for another price. A hefty price. An eye for an eye, a limb for a limb. And what would it look like if we refused? Because I guarantee you, our friend will not go along with it.”
Leona looks up towards the stained glass window of the willow dryad. “That’s why you have to be sure. When you offer you don’t do it without something more to back it up. Something else they may want…” She glances at Jaezred.
“Indeed… If only finding what they want isn’t a bleeding pain in the arse. Bloody politics.”
She lets out a small laugh. “You know, I have never met anyone who actually likes playing that game.”
“When it’s good, it’s really quite fun. But when it’s bad, it’s like chopping your own fingers off.” He nods at her autumnal-looking cocktail. “Speaking of fun, what is that? I don’t think I've ever seen that one before, or more importantly, tasted it.”
“Oh, this one?” Leona looks down at the half empty glass. “It’s new. First time I’ve gotten the flavour right. Been trying to make it for the past month.” Her eyes flick up to his and she blushes. “Would you like to try it, Lord Jaezred?”
“I would love to try it,” he murmurs, a genuine smile forming on his lips at last.
“Then let me make you a fresh one,” she says getting up.
Jaezred sits back and watches the master at her craft — always one of his favourite sights. It is not too long before a pear-shaped, stemmed glass full of the same mysterious cocktail is placed in front of him. Leona props her elbows on the bar and rests her chin unto her hands, waiting and expectant.
Jaezred sits up straighter and takes the glass in hand for a sip. The first sensation he notices is the refreshing floral small wafting up from the glass as he brings it up to his lips. The rosy lemon pairs perfectly with the fresh lime, bergamot, and cardamom. When he does take a sip it is as if a potion of rejuvenation seeps into chest, whilst the vapours rise up to ease his mind. He still feels the worry of their conversation, the uncertainty of what Zola’s actions may mean for his home, what — if anything — can be done to rectify or dampen the repercussions… But they are not as heavy. His eyes are sharp and bright as he looks back to Leona’s eager waiting face.
“Mmm…” He breathes in for an aftertaste that lingers on the roof of his mouth before taking a second sip, letting the flavours roll anew on his refined palate. “Strong citrus notes with a dose of floral and a touch of spice, which is a very pleasant combination, though I don’t seem to detect what spirits are being used here? Did you use an emotion liqueur, or a potion? I seem to feel…a little better.”
“Just liqueur. Though for you a little special magic my mother taught me…” Leona blushes. “I’m delighted you like it.”
He gives her a warm smile. “Well, this is a special one, then. Thank you, Miss Leona. With a little tweaking, I do believe this could be another fiore popolare signature. Do you have a name for it?”
“A Salve to Sooth,” she says, smiling.
“Hm. You always know how to soothe my soul.” Jaezred gently grasps her hand and places a kiss, light as a night breeze, on her knuckles. “Thank you, Leona, you have given me much to think about. Ah, if only drinking cocktails could solve the problems in our lives.”
Leona holds onto his hand as she says, “So long as you’re here, these cocktails will do what they can. It’s the least I can do.”
Co-written with Riah