10 Cylus 718
Evening
The brawl turned deadly had ended in a decisive stalemate. While it wasn't a loss, it was unacceptable to the proud ex-Hound tired of the near daily disrespect dished out by her old coworkers. Her odds of success had been greatly increased when she reluctantly chose to bring along a heavy-hitter into the Buckle and Chain for the inevitable showdown. As decent a fighter as Lavana was, not even her help had been enough to bring the beef to a close. The only thing Max hated more than loose ends was failure. Failure for the Rusalka, especially in this endeavor, was not an option at all.
The sound of a deep, smooth inhale filled the small alleyway across from the Buckle and Chain tavern. Silence followed for a few trills. Then came the expected exhale of smoke that swirled in a thin plume about Maxine, who was slouched down against an adjacent wall. She leaned her head back and stared up toward the black sky above. She took another long drag upon the joint before extending it outward for Lavana to take if she so wished.
"It's not the best I've ever smoked," Max admitted, more smoke drifting from her nostrils and her lips when she spoke. "Bug berries. Not the worst I've smoked either." After a few trills her body seemed to visibly relax. With the bit of alcohol still left in her system, the belligerent woman was apparently put in a relatively tranquil state for now. At least the dull ache in her body was beginning to subside thanks to the illegal drugs.
The blonde acquaintance she'd snagged before he ventured into the tavern had indeed done what she'd requested. Rich wandered out into the dark in his signature old beanie, nervous gaze bouncing all about before he hurried into the alleyway he'd been told he could find her. With Lavana's earlier nel she traded up for the joint and Rich went back out on his way. Only the occasional drunk or shivering traveler passed their hiding place. None seemed to care, and so Max went to lighting the joint with the lantern her friend had almost used to set the Buckle and Chain ablaze. Placated with a new vice, they needed now only wait for their enemies to stumble out the doors across the street to bring this all to a violent, conclusive end.
"What you did back there with the tequila and the lantern?" Max's voice rose again, eyes steadying on the imperial. "That was fucking crazy. If you're lucky, one of the bards in there has already penned a ballad on it. Knowing the bards though it's probably shit." She smirked at the thought of the endless possibilities of butchered, drunken lyrics telling the story. It wouldn't be a song Tilda would be all that fond of. Perhaps in time, however, the proprietor would see the humor in the tense exchange. After all, it had been that thick-headed idiot Hound that started it all. If he hadn't put the knife to her throat like a coward, Lavana might not have been so quick to one-up him with a threat of her own.
Evening
The brawl turned deadly had ended in a decisive stalemate. While it wasn't a loss, it was unacceptable to the proud ex-Hound tired of the near daily disrespect dished out by her old coworkers. Her odds of success had been greatly increased when she reluctantly chose to bring along a heavy-hitter into the Buckle and Chain for the inevitable showdown. As decent a fighter as Lavana was, not even her help had been enough to bring the beef to a close. The only thing Max hated more than loose ends was failure. Failure for the Rusalka, especially in this endeavor, was not an option at all.
The sound of a deep, smooth inhale filled the small alleyway across from the Buckle and Chain tavern. Silence followed for a few trills. Then came the expected exhale of smoke that swirled in a thin plume about Maxine, who was slouched down against an adjacent wall. She leaned her head back and stared up toward the black sky above. She took another long drag upon the joint before extending it outward for Lavana to take if she so wished.
"It's not the best I've ever smoked," Max admitted, more smoke drifting from her nostrils and her lips when she spoke. "Bug berries. Not the worst I've smoked either." After a few trills her body seemed to visibly relax. With the bit of alcohol still left in her system, the belligerent woman was apparently put in a relatively tranquil state for now. At least the dull ache in her body was beginning to subside thanks to the illegal drugs.
The blonde acquaintance she'd snagged before he ventured into the tavern had indeed done what she'd requested. Rich wandered out into the dark in his signature old beanie, nervous gaze bouncing all about before he hurried into the alleyway he'd been told he could find her. With Lavana's earlier nel she traded up for the joint and Rich went back out on his way. Only the occasional drunk or shivering traveler passed their hiding place. None seemed to care, and so Max went to lighting the joint with the lantern her friend had almost used to set the Buckle and Chain ablaze. Placated with a new vice, they needed now only wait for their enemies to stumble out the doors across the street to bring this all to a violent, conclusive end.
"What you did back there with the tequila and the lantern?" Max's voice rose again, eyes steadying on the imperial. "That was fucking crazy. If you're lucky, one of the bards in there has already penned a ballad on it. Knowing the bards though it's probably shit." She smirked at the thought of the endless possibilities of butchered, drunken lyrics telling the story. It wouldn't be a song Tilda would be all that fond of. Perhaps in time, however, the proprietor would see the humor in the tense exchange. After all, it had been that thick-headed idiot Hound that started it all. If he hadn't put the knife to her throat like a coward, Lavana might not have been so quick to one-up him with a threat of her own.