[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/VMubzaX.png[/img]


[color=peru][center][h2]Stratya Durmand[/h2][/center]
Time:[/color] 23rd, Evening
[color=peru]Location:[/color] The Masquerade
[color=peru]Interactions:[/color] Zarai [@Rodiak], Drake [@Lava Alckon]
[color=peru]Mentions:[/color]
[color=Peru][url=https://i.imgur.com/qc4Q1sY.jpeg]Mask[/url] & [url=https://i.imgur.com/nP2Ilq2.png]Masquerade[/url]
(Note: pants)[/color][/center]

A fellow joined them as they went through their game. The strength of the drink was starting to hit her, but that was to say nothing of her latest companion taking perhaps very heavy swigs right from the bottle. That was no way to play a drinking game, pacing was very important. Go [I]too[/I] hard and the night ends early.

Their new participant was, ah, impressive. He'd apparently managed to burn “a piece of bread?” She looked at the man, “[color=peru]i's really some’tin, t’way burnt food fills a place. Wha’d y’do, walk away? Easies’ way t’ burn a t’ing, ah tell y’wha’. The firs’ time ye do i’, ye’ll be thinkin’ i's ready, the firs’ scent y’catch is the smell o’ it bein’ done. As ye go to i’, though, ye get the smell of burnin’, and ye know i's too late. [sub]Aw, shite, I forgo’ abou’ tha’.[/sub][/color]” Sip.

The fellow brought his own question to the table, and Stratya had to consider it. “[color=peru]‘til I was ill? N… naaay.[/color]” She had to think about that one. She could remember being hung over a few times, but never ill. Before anything else could happen, the devilish master of ceremonies for this game gave them a devilish question. The knight questioned, staring at the last of her glass, “[color=peru]does it really count if it was only just now..?[/color]” but sighed in easy defeat, finishing her glass. “[color=peru]Got me, ye ‘ave. My glass -[/color]” her tone shifted from one of theatrical defeat to surprise, “[color=peru]and the bo’le! - are empty! - my dear,[/color]” she slipped her arm around the woman's waist, steadying her and slipping the empty bottle from her hand, ”[color=peru]le’s ge’ y’some, ah,[/color]” the nearby table was full of booze, she caught the attention of a nearby servant, “[color=peru]wa’er and brea’ afore we carry on, ey? Y'll be grateful in the morning, I don' min’ sayin’. An' 'en we'll carry on with a foine ale or wine, yea? Somet’in’ a bi’ less of a punch t’ yer gut, maybe more flavorful, aye.[/color]” She gestured gratitude as the servant departed, and wondered if maybe they should try something else? Maybe something with a slower pace. A song, perhaps. Ah, but that would be so disruptive. And a ballroom was no place for physical drinking games. No throwing stones into buckets of water on the nice, expensive floor.

“[color=peru]Anyone know another game? Anythin’ I’ve go’ is more suited to, er, another environmen’. Unless we can use the courtyard..?[/color]” Well, she never imagined this was how she would break the ice with the upper class.