(1874-08-30) Your Poor Eye
Your Poor Eye
Summary: Myrana reacts to Ludovic's injury and has a few words to say about the colloseum.
Date: 2018 Aug 30th
Related: (1874-08-18) Vir Sidus Games
NPCs: None
Ludovic  Myrana  

The City of Hellsmouth
Nowhere Specific

The Hippocampus sets in to port in Hellsmouth without much fanfare beyond what arises when such a pretty and obviously gilded litle river yacht comes to dock. It has come from Paras, along with the boats of other people sailing back downriver from the Imperial Games.

Stepping off of it, Myrana D'Armaz is not quite her plucky self; there's no spring in the dull thump of her smart little heels, and her clothes and braid are dull and dispirited.

"I hope D'Korbina got my letter," she mutters as she debarks down the plank. Sam, right behind her, bows the plank under his weight.

Ludovic clearly did receive some level of warning as moments after the passengers have started to disembark the familiar figure of Ludovic approaches from the direction of the nearest tavern. He's got a warm smile in place as he moves and he seems to be moving with that same level of confidence that speaks of a supreme confidence in his own abilities (and the fact that people will get out of his way). "Its a real pleasure to see you again Myrana." He's almost the same as always but for the fact his right eye has changed from that vibrant blue to the slightly sunken pale grey of the 'fake'. Although he is looking a touch worn about the edges. "How was your journey? Any pirates?"

Myrana strides up to meet Ludovic and reaches out her hands to grip him assessingly by about the elbows as soon as she comes within arm's reach of him, coming to a stop as she does so in a clatter of jewelry. She looks up into his face first. Anxious.

"Ludovic, your poor eye," she says. "Your poor eye! I heard a little of what happened, but not till news reached me in New Kashmir. My journey?" The question of pirates stems the flood of her own, and she chews on the inside of her cheek, dropping her hands and folding her arms across her chest as she looks back at the Hippocampus. "No, just nightmares. I went to Paras; the Queen wanted a report. I-I wish I hadn't. And now I've got to sail back o Four Corners and the front there."

After meeting the inspection with only a mildly embarassed smile, Ludovic tells her. "It's not as bad as I always imagined it would be." A quick flicker of a grin. "Course that could just be bravado. You know I keep knocking my ale over? Everyone thinks I've taken up the habit."

He gives her a more serious look as she says about Paras. "What happened to give you nightmares?" A brief blink. "The White Hallers have made it to Four Corners?"

"Taken up the habit of wasting beer? Nonsense, you've never spilled a drop," is Myra's smartassed response. She grins back, and a little of the fear goes out of her face. It took up residence there in Paras at the Games, but being safe again- or feeling safe, for the moment anyhow- shoos it away somewhat. Makes a space to breathe in.

"I've always thought you'd look handsome missing some facial features, Ludovic," she amends, tapping her cheek with one thoughtful finger and shaking her head with sad, sad wisdom. Oh so sad to be so wise. "I'm almost dissapointed to be right."

Myrana didn't quite miss the question, but she puts an arm insistently through Ludovic's and attempts to turn him by main force, much smaller body-mass and all, back around towards the establishment he just exited. "I need food. I'll tell you everything."

Once inside, and with a good deal of food put on the table and an even greater deal of whatever small-cider they have:

"They built a collis… A collust…" She makes a vague little circle in the air with a crust of bread, dripping a glop of sauce. It does not go missing. Ouros, whose head is on the tavern table like a sulking child's, sticks a long pink tongue out and solves this housekeeping issue.

Myrana flounders for the word. It might go forever.

"You should have seen me before the vitae then." Ludovic jokes in return. "You'd have been clawing Imogen's eyes out just to get close." He taps the side of his eye. "Feels weird not to have scars. Almost like I lost out or cheated. Then again. Its not like that was any kind of fight. He just threw me across the room like a ragdoll Myrana. I've never been so useless in my whole life."

It takes him a second to catch onto her intention to push her arm through his but once he does he makes space and accepts the guidance as if it was all his original plan in the first place.

Watching her with a faintly amused smile he suggests "Colosseum?" Using the imperial way of saying it.

"C-Colossal Shitpile!" Myrana sputters, banging her small fist on the table and startling Ouros, who gives her an offended look before licking his paws down by her chair. "URGH! That damn language is IMPOSSIBLE!"

"You just didn't want to learn, cause you wanted to stay in Aequor."

"Shut up, Sam."

"This one's brother knows more languages than she does, and she's had enough tutors to fill a very big gondola."

Seething quietly at her bodyguard, who quaffs beer in cheery indifference to his charge's temper, Myrana shoves a big bite of food in her mouth instead and glowers.

"They had men fighting lions," she finally says, forcing herself to be as good as her word and tell Ludovic aboout the Games even though she's already got her dinner. It is difficult. She is a natural hoarder of secrets.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License