Irihi

[ʀʏᴋᴇ - ᴀʀʙᴏʀʜᴀᴠᴇɴ] 𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇: 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃

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Miiya Aether
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Mentions: @Spoiled Bread @Sanity43217 @Moonberry @carsOwO

Miiya was hungry.
She was thirsty.
She was bored.

“I DON’T THINK THIS IS WORKING!!” Miiya shouted up at the outline of the trapdoor. “I STILL HAVE NEEDS!!”

She was fairly sure it had been at least a day since she had been dumped in this dank hole. She’d been a bit less spirited after her encounter with the soul-crushing magic arfline. He must have left at some point, because the weight of the world had lifted off her shoulders shortly after the trapdoor had shut.

Even though it HAD been water in that puddle--water that was dripping down the fieldstones and providing her with at least a little hydration--Miiya’s spirits hadn’t exactly been buoyed by licking the walls. She was beginning to get more than a little worried that she’d made herself TOO much trouble, and they were just going to let her starve down here.

It won’t take long. she thought, dismally. Though she’d had a massive meal last night, almost all those calories had gone to feed the energy deficit she ran while flying. Though she’d been sedentary (by Aerial standards) ever since, she was still burning through already-depleted fat stores. I don’t do well in captivity. God, she had to try to keep that thought out of her mind; it led to panic, which would just send her bouncing off the walls for no good reason.

Then there was the pendant. She could put it on.

Like they wanted.

Not yet. she decided. It was actually a tiny source of hope; that talisman. In the end, when she was truly starving to death, maybe putting it on would grant her clemency. Or maybe its artificial malaise would be an anesthetic against the pain and fear. But I really, really don’t want to give those arflines the satisfaction. “Especially since they’ll probably just find it on my corpse.” she said in macabre musing. The damn thing had been hard to take off.

…

Miiya was debating between trying to conserve energy, or making herself obnoxious enough to get some attention--while she still had the strength--when the trapdoor opened once more. She hated how relieved--and almost grateful--she felt, that she hadn’t been forgotten and left to die. Even getting crushed to the dirt by malaise and despair felt almost… comfortable.

Defiance is overrated. Miiya decided, and scraped an eight-ton hand over to the pendant, gripping it and wrapping its chain around her wrist. The crushing weight of failure, of worthlessness, of being a trashy guttersnipe that would never meet Ma’s expectations, relented.

Sorta.

It relented enough for Miiya to stand and look up, a sort of blase expectation pasted on her features.

“Place it…” the voice began,
[color= red] “...around your neck.”[/color]

“Too… much work.” Miiya shrugged and made an aroundish her neckish gesture, leaving the pendant wrapped around her wrist.

There was a long silence.
Then the ladder descended with a clatter. “Follow…”

Miiya sighed and leaned against the ladder. This was too much work too. Nah, I’ll just hang out down here. her body language said.

The light streaming in from above flickered with the wave of an arm. “Follow…!” this time magical [compulsion C] accompanied the command.

“Bluuuch.” Channeling all the ennui she had ever possessed, Miiya put one listless foot upon the bottom rung. “That enough?”

“...NOW!!” Whomever was up there was apparently through fretting around, because they cranked the magic up to [compulsion B]

“OK! YEW GOT IT, BOSS!!” Miiya stopped resisting and loosened her grip on the talisman, shooting up the ladder with a powerful flap and a three-point lunge. She would have used all four limbs to zip up out of the dungeon, but her right hand was clenched into a fist around the talisman’s chain--and it was aimed right at the shadowy figure’s chin.

Miiya felt a familiar jag of thrill light up her brain, as her uppercut connected with that magical motherfretter. She felt his jaw, teeth, and the base of his spine make all those fun pops they did when she really unloaded all the fear and rage and hate of her mean streak, into some kalmason who’d been yfretting asking for it.

Bonus points! she thought, because the pendant she’d seated on her knuckles snapped off its chain and stayed embedded in the soft flesh under the man’s chin as he toppled over backwards in front of her.

Yew got knocked the frett out!! Miiya really wanted to tell him so, maybe punctuating her words with a couple of kicks, but not so much that she was willing to get captured by all the startled acolytes surrounding her. Instead of kicking the head arfline, she decided to kick all his little arflets--well, those standing between her and the window, that was.

The birdgirl had a lot of limbs, but not enough to hit everybody. She rifled a pair of left jabs into a cowled face and hoped that the resulting crunch was a broken nose. A donkey kick went into the softer bits of someone grabbing her from behind, who quickly decided he needed to grab something else, freeing her up to put a crescent kick into a temple.

Miiya was a talented fighter and the ceremonial robes were not doing her opponents any favors, but she was neither large nor strong enough to put most of them down permanently. Rather than waste time trying--and risk ending up back in the hole, or worse--Miiya headbutted the person directly in front of her. She saw stars, but her target was rendered momentarily senseless. Grabbing his robe, she whapped the bejeesus out of everyone nearby with rapid powerful flaps of her wings and charged forward, bulldozing through the crowd to the window she had spotted. She didn’t stop at the glass, but instead rode the headbuttee through the shattering glass and out into the streaming sunlight.

She left her impromptu sled to finish the short flight by himself as she flapped awkwardly, one wing folded to compensate for her missing trim tab. It wasn’t the most graceful landing, but it wasn’t a crash. Folding her wings in tight, Miiya rabbited away from the building that had been her prison, darting in zig-zags until she reached cover, just in case anyone got any bright ideas about bows, crossbows, or slings.

…

Orbiting in the thermal rising over Arborhaven, Miiya beat for altitude as she looked down on the city. She’d retrieved her belongings from the Inn and hastily strapped into Dauntless without a word to anyone. Besides the nervous-looking innkeeper, there’d been no friendly faces to greet the escapee, and she wasn’t sticking around to see whether friend or foe was going to decide to pop in first.

Well out of bowshot range, the Aerial reflected on recent events and shivered. There was a whole lot to process after her escape, not to mention the raft of questions that were still unanswered. What were those mysterious mood-altering talismans? Why was some strange cult throwing people into dungeons? Where had the adventurer’s guild party gone?

Did Miiya care enough to descend and put her life in danger again?

“Nope.” the birdgirl’s adjudication was lost to the slipstream and sky as she wheeled and turned her heading toward the See and points beyond.

[ʀʏᴋᴇ - ᴀʀʙᴏʀʜᴀᴠᴇɴ] 𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇: 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃

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[url=iwakuroleplay.com/threads/irihis-char…]
Miiya Aether
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Mentions: @Spoiled Bread @Sanity43217 @Moonberry @carsOwO

“A yfretting SACK!? Are yew kidding me!?” Miiya screeched up at the trapdoor through which she had been unceremoniously dumped. “Who does that; kidnapping someone and putting them in a SACK?!! I’m not a bunch of kittens you need to drown in the river!!” she shouted irately. “Yfrettin’ FACE me, yew fretting COWARDS!! So saying, she crouched on the spongy floor, then uncoiled and launched, flapping hard to try to reach the dim outline of the door.

Miiya hadn’t been wearing Dauntless when she was kidnapped. Bereft of the prosthesis that replaced four feet of her pinioned left wing, she couldn’t aviate properly--or at all, really. The Aerial woman’s off-kilter flaps sent her into a spin. She managed to tag the trapdoor--high overhead--with a fist, before plunging back to the ground with a thud. “OOF!!” She rolled to her feet and made another attempt, with the same result. “YFRETTERS!!”

Miiya tried several more leaps, but the door had no handholds on the underside, and it seemed to be barred or locked from above. ”LET ME OUT, yfretting shuheads!!” cursing, eventually she abandoned her frantic attempts at immediate escape. Yes, she was used to crashes much worse than these, but they still hurt--the repeated bruising falls--almost as much as the reminder of her pinioning. “Frett.” The birdgirl drew her wings in tight as she squatted on the floor.

Dirt. Dirt floor.
And darkness.

Peering into the gloom, Miiya tried to swallow against a nervous lump. Eagle-eyed in daylight, Miya's night vision was next to nonexistent. She could barely see the light filtering in past the edges of the trapdoor, and her eyes darted blindly around the inky blackness that surrounded her. “I don’t like it in here!” a frightened quaver crept into the rhetorical statement that was supposed to be all steely resolve and irony.

Anything could be lurking down here in the dark.

…

“Or nothing.” Miiya said to herself after gritting her teeth with determination and searching her cell by feel. It was small and deep; probably a cellar of some sort. She’d found four fieldstone walls, tripped over a mercifully-empty chamber pot, and stepped in a puddle that she hoped was water seepage. “YOUR PRISON SUCKS!!” she informed anyone listening above. After some consideration, she added, [color=red]“...AND SO DO YOU!!”

It was kinda hard to insult people she hadn’t seen. They’d come into her room in the dead of night and managed to restrain her in darkness. Though she hadn’t been able to get a look at her kidnappers, she’d laid hands on them pretty good--all things considered--and she had the bloody knuckles and bruised elbows to prove it. She had headbutted one of them too. She hoped their headache was worse than hers, and decided to see if she could add to it.

Besides moving vast quantities of oxygen into her blood while aviating, Miiya’s lungs were useful in being loud. Really loud. Her lifelong hobby (and brief abortive career) as a singer meshed well with her year at sea aboard her Aunt’s brigantine to provide her with both a long creatively descriptive litany of profanely abusive material, and the projection to deliver it at volume to whatever unfortunate jailer was keeping watch over her cell.

Miiya’s captors had not provided her with any other entertainment or diversions, and she decided to make sure they regretted that particular shortcoming.

…

She was somewhere between the fourth and fifth verse of a extemporized ribald off-key ditty about her captor’s inadequacies in bed (with his exceptionally smelly bovine lover), when the trapdoor opened.

“Oh, liked that one, didja?!” Miiya shouted squinted up at the sudden brightness. “Why don’t ya come down here and I’ll play yew the accompanying percussion?!” she cracked her knuckles meaningfully.

“You’re…
…lively.”

Said a voice from a dark figure that leaned over the pit. The face of whomever it was, standing over the trapdoor to Miiya’s cell, was cast into shadow beneath a heavy cowl.

“That…
…will change…”

Miiya’s vicious grin glittered in the darkness. She wasn’t going to be cowed by threats, veiled or otherwise. ”HA! BIG WORds From a little maa…” she started to retort, but the words died on her lips as the dark figure overspoke her, waving a hand listlessly over the pit.


“...now.”

The breath of defiance left Miiya’s body in an instant. Her insults were stilled in her throat, and a sense of crushing gravity drove her to the floor. Her limbs hung like leaden weights, and her wings drooped like trees born to the ground in an ice storm, each feather as heavy as a millstone.

Yfretting magic frett! For a brief moment, Miiya’s anger at her captor sparked and she tried to rally against the crushing malaise, but her internal struggle lasted only an instant before the flame of defiance was quenched. The curse she’d wanted to spit never made it to her lips as she laid her head down upon the cold dirt floor.

Even just drawing breath was a labor--why bother? Why live at all? Why struggle and fight? There was nothing worth fighting for. Miiya’s mouth opened as she panted into the dirt like a stricken animal, unable even to pillow head upon arm.


“Now…” repeated the dark figure.
“...you understand…”

Tears tried to well in Miiya’s eyes, but they dried before they could fall. It was so fast; the collapse of her facade; the liberating of the despair and hopeless malaise that she papered over with frenetic energy.

Every day.

Until now.

“...your place.”

Why protest? It was easier to just agree. “...yes…” came the ghost of a whisper. She was trash. Lowborn daughter of a flightless *****, never to rise above her station despite her every effort. Pinioned, herself; the embodiment of loss. Stop. Flying only makes you miss the sky. What had all her efforts gained her? She was literally lower than dirt now, alone in a dark hole and missed by no one.

It hurt. Years of blood and sweat and tears and yet nothing
no place
no one.

“Now…” The shadowy figure stretched out a hand, holding something over the pit. The points of the talisman’s star glittered as it fell to the dirt beside Miiya.
“...take it.”

Dry dirt ground against her palm as Miiya stretched out a hand and grasped the talisman. A sigh of relief escaped her as the crushing weight lifted. She was no lighter. She was unchanged, her circumstances just as they had been before she took the talisman.

But she didn’t care. He had taken that from her. She did not have to do anything, think anything, try anything. Just…

“...follow.”

Miiya stirred. As if of their own accord, her spread wings folded, her arms and legs gathering themselves under her and pushing her to her feet even as a ladder descended into the pit with a wooden clatter.

Miiya closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation; it was like flying, but without the straining muscles, without the burn of icy breaths, without the nagging pain of the hopefully-named, but accursed, Dauntless. Flying free of care, thought, effort.

Sen hadn’t wanted her to fly. Oh, she said differently; said she was protecting Miiya from harm, keeping her daughter’s wings whole, where her own had been shorn. Pushing Miiya so that she knew enough, achieved enough, worked enough, to eventually spread her wings and fly free. But Miiya had known differently; that a little--not all--but a little, of the cruelty behind the switch, of the meanness behind the cutting words, of the judgement in the harsh glares--had been jealousy.

Because Ma missed the sky too. No matter what Miiya did, she couldn’t give that back to her mother. And it felt so good not to have to carry that guilt anymore; to just let everything go to the freedom of Sloth.

Giving that feeling up was one of the hardest, most painful things Miiya had ever done.

Sen would be proud.

“frett yew.” Miiya had an arm like a sling, not only could she throw hard, she was deadly accurate. Even with only a dark outline of a head-ish shape looking down at her, odds were good she could take out an eye with something as small as a flung talisman.

Well, she could have if the arfline leaning over her pit wasn’t a magic frett-tard. The talisman went maybe a foot higher than it would have had Miiya foregone the effort of throwing it. It hit the floor shortly after Miiya’s face.

“You will…
…change.” the ladder was pulled up and light winked out as the trapdoor slammed shut.

It was all back; the crushing weight, the pain, the sorrow. And Miiya was pretty sure her hair had fallen in, and was now wicking up, that might-not-be-water-actually. “Thanks, ma.” she whispered into the dirt, at that inescapable eternally nagging voice in the back of her mind, at the root of many of her best painful decisions..

“Thanks a lot.”

[ʀʏᴋᴇ - ᴀʀʙᴏʀʜᴀᴠᴇɴ] 𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇: 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃

…

In the wee hours of the night the storm intensified. Peals of thunder shook the Inn and rain lashed the windows. The old inn stood pat against the tempest, though the walls and rafters protested against the wind with thumps, creaks, and groans.

Eventually, the stormy night passed into a leaden gray dawn.

…

The halls of the inn were dim and the empty chairs of the common room stood in drear disarray in the illumination of early morning light filtering through the grimy windows.

A number of locks and bolts snicked and clicked before the door to the innkeeper’s quarters creaked open. The man emerged looking less than dapper. Trudging over to the main door, he reached for the security bar out of habit before pausing. The wooden bar was slid back and the door was slightly ajar. Sucking his teeth in annoyance, the innkeeper opened the door fully and stepped out into the chill air of morning. A thin fog clung to the sodden ground and no townspeople stirred within view. There were many rain-filled footprints in the muddy street, but no sign of whatever patron had left the inn’s door open.

The innkeeper closed the door, leaving it unlatched for any early patrons. Thinking no more on the matter, he went about making the common room ready for the guests; sweeping ash from hearths and rebuilding banked fires.

By the time lodgers started to stir, a deep pot of porridge was bubbling over the cookfire.

The housekeeper who cleaned the rooms had not yet arrived, so no staff from the inn had yet ventured upstairs to the hall of rooms. A guest would likely be the first to happen across the scene. While the rest of the doors were closed and locked, the door to room 204 was wide open. Inside were not-so-subtle signs of a struggle. The washbasin and pitcher were both upended on damp floorboards. A chair was overturned and bedsheets were strewn on the floor, along with a couple of tawny feathers. The Aerial woman’s satchel sat open in one corner. Of Miiya, herself, there was no sign.

[ʀʏᴋᴇ - ᴀʀʙᴏʀʜᴀᴠᴇɴ] 𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇: 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃

The barkeeper/innkeeper frowned. “There goes a confident one.” He muttered, darkly. Maybe it had been different in the past, but--these days--patrons didn’t go about carousing, upsetting the locals, and then announce where they were lodging for the whole world to hear.

Still, the innkeeper was used to hosting all kinds. The flashy fox and feathered female were far from the most frivolous fiends ever to darken the door of his inn. “How about more ta drink, instead?” He suggested to Shiki, when the man put coin on bartop. “You’d do better not ta take local lore as lightly as that one.” He nodded toward the stairs where Miiya had departed. “I don’t trade in witchcraft, nor do I recommend it ta out-of-towners. Yew’ll have to look fer yer own talisman tomorrow.” He pointedly did not recommend Shiki obtain one from the foxkin, any of the patrons, or the shady character in the corner, as Miiya might have.

The night deepened and the storm outside continued to grumble with muted growls of thunder. As the fire burned low, the tavern’s patrons began to depart--most out into the stormy night, with only one or two lodgers heading to the inn’s rooms.

Those that left departed in pairs or larger groups. With each departure, the shady figure in the back seemed to track their movements. Their face was cast in shadow by the cowl they kept raised, but slight twitches indicated where they watched those who departed. When there was only the latecomer and one pair of patrons left, the innkeeper announced that the bar was closing, and all present needed to leave or hire a room for the night.

“Alright, well that’s my cue to leave you fine folks.” Reed said. “I wish you the best on your endeavors. If you can bring back a spot of bright or kindness to this town, there’s still some of us who would welcome it,” he asserted as he wrapped his lute in an oilskin and headed out into the darkness.

After the musician had departed, anyone left at the bar would find that the common room was now empty. Of the shady figure, there was no sign. Had they hired a room? Had they gone out into the tempest? It could be that no one cared, but it was certain that no one had noticed.

”Alright, yew don’t hafta go home, but you can’t stay down here. Rent a room or get out.” The innkeeper said brusquely to anyone still hanging about.

[ʀʏᴋᴇ - ᴀʀʙᴏʀʜᴀᴠᴇɴ] 𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇: 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃

Miiya Aether

Mentions: @spoiled bread @Sanity43217 @Moonberry @carsOwO

Miiya’s smile was about ninety percent grimace as she chuckled nervously at Marrion’s words. “They, uh… yeah. Looking forward to meetin’ ‘em.” She lied.

Whether Netzir made her an extra-sparkly talisman, or she obtained one from elsewhere, Miiya soon had a lucky rabbit’s foot of her own proudly displayed hanging around her neck. Though the birdgirl was immensely pleased with herself for Rome-ing whilst in Rome, none of the other patrons seemed to feel the same. The Aerial woman was getting plenty of mutters and sidelong glances. Even the bartender looked like he wanted to say something, but--in the end--he kept his peace. Miiya’s earlier aggressiveness and the friendliness displayed amongst the group of adventurers kept any of the ill-will hanging about the quieter patrons from spilling over into violence.

Miiya decided that getting a job deserved a late snack, and she ordered herself yet another bowl of the night’s stew. “Ya know, this slop really grows on yew.” She said to the bartender, who just grunted and went back to polishing glasses.

“Welp, I’m about topped off.” Miiya announced to all present. “I’m assuming we’re headed out to the South Road bright and early?” she asked Juniper. Getting a nod, Miiya share, “Then I’m gonna turn in. I’ll see yew all at breakfast!” It was quite clear that the birdgirl’s world revolved around mealtimes.

Paying for a room and obtaining a key from the Innkeeper, the Aerial grabbed her satchel from where she’d leaned it against the bar. “Hey boss,” she grinned as she addressed Juniper. “I’m in room… uh… two-oh-four. Gimme a knock on yer way down in the morning, just in case I’m not up, yeah?” so saying, Miiya took her leave of those gathered in the common room and headed upstairs.

[ʀʏᴋᴇ - ᴀʀʙᴏʀʜᴀᴠᴇɴ] 𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇: 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃

Miiya Aether

“Watch yer coinpurse around yer kin. Haha! Got it, Netzir.” Miiya grinned at the mage’s candor. Though her mother had not been the kindest parent a girl could have, Miiya was her fiercest defender. It gave her a strange feeling to hear the beastman denigrate his own kin--something akin to pity, perhaps? It didn’t make her feel good, exactly--but it did make her feel fortunate, and softened her sharpness with the fox, a little.

The talk was turning to the talismans that seemed a preoccupation of many of the taverngoers. Miiya--not the most observant chick in the nest--had not really noticed until Shiki pointed it out. “Yah, they do seem to like fiddling with them, huh?” she commented.

“Netzir, can yew make a copy of a talisman?” Miiya suggested, idly. By the way the patrons seemed to jealously guard theirs, Miiya figured it would take some force to separate one from its owner, for inspection. She hadn’t missed the bartender’s sharp look at her friendly headlock, and she was in no hurry to get herself thrown out into the wet and dark. “If it’s just a lucky rabbit’s foot, nobody’s gonna object to me having the prettiest one.” she opined. “Make mine extra shiny.” she requested of the mage.

Woof. That three-eyed girl gave Miiya the heebie-jeebies something fierce. The woman’s words did nothing to dispel the feeling. The Aerial couldn’t help but picture the insectoid beastkin scuttling across her ceiling in the darkness. Well, Miiya had decided it was a night for confrontation, so she decided to just speak her mind. “Nice ta meetcha, Marrion,” she replied. “I’m Miiya. Who’s “we” by the way?” she asked, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer.

The birdgirl was focused on Marrion, and trying to keep her feathers from louvering and belying just how creeped out she was. Miiya paid the entrance of the ominous cloaked figure little heed.

[ʀʏᴋᴇ - ᴀʀʙᴏʀʜᴀᴠᴇɴ] 𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇: 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃

Miiya Aether

Miiya released the patron from her friendly choke hold grip and straightened up, opening a little space between herself and the man, in case he should decide he wanted to take physical umbrage. “Hey, thanks for the tip, buddy!” The birdgirl had the feeling that the secrets flying around the drearier of the tavern’s occupants weren’t exactly the kind that got silenced with a dirk between the ribs, but it never hurt to be on guard, so that was how she’d stay as she sauntered back to her place beside Juniper.

Miiya gave Shiki’s proffered hand a squeeze and a shake as she returned to her seat. She tried not to direct the bit of sideeye she was feeling at the barfly. Is this drunkard actually gonna be of any use? she wondered.

Even a stumblebum could stop an arrow or make convenient monster bait in a pinch, she guessed, releasing Shiki’s hand and turning to Juniper. “Great! Well then, Juniper, yew’ve got yerself the services of Miiya’s AirCav. I’ve been looking to do some good deeds--and get paid for ‘em.” She smiled at the beastkin before directing her attention to Netzir. “Also known as ‘honest work’, yew might wanna try it sometime, magic man!” she razzed the mage.

Miiya’s tone wasn’t exactly kind, but neither was it vicious, angry, or dark like the attitude of the bartender and many of the others in the tavern. The smirk she directed at Netzir had a challenge in it. Foxy Loxy had got her attention with his showy parlor tricks. Even if he wasn’t the most friendly conversationalist, Miiya counted him among the more interesting of the bar’s patrons, and now it looked like they were going on a guild mission together. “So, yer magic good for anything besides interior decorating?” she asked.

“As for me,” Miiya directed her words mostly to Juniper, but included the group in general. “I’m an airborne cavalry scout; I can do reconnaissance and I can fight. She asserted.

Miiya the AirCav

Miiya went on to give them the details of the simple semaphore that she used to communicate with grounders when on the wing. She taught them the arm gestures for bogey (unknown), bandit (potential threat), and hostile (active threat), the o’clock positions, and how she signalled units of distance.

“If yew get in trouble, Juniper, yew can call me down to help, like this:” Miiya raised her arms straight up and then lowered them to her sides. “And this is ‘wave off’--I’ll climb back up to recon altitude.” Miiya stuck her hands out to her sides and then raised them straight up. [color] “I can’t lift yew out of harm’s way, so don’t ask.”[/color] she grinned ruefully. “I’m a pretty strong flyer, but I’m not a roc or a dragon.”

Miiya had been all smiles up until this point, but now she grew serious. “If yer in real trouble, yew can call for an airstrike.” Miiya crossed her arms over her head and then lowered her right arm. She thought briefly about pointing at Nexir, but Miiya’s ranged attack was not something she joked about, so--instead--she pointed to the fireplace, repeating the gesture twice. “Signal twice. Don’t call for it unless yer absolutely sure yew want the target dead. I can only do one strike during a fight, but it’s usually lethal.”

When Miiya finished describing how her talents could be utilized, she waited to see if any of the others wanted to share their own abilities, strengths, or weaknesses. While she’d directly asked Netzir, the birdgirl was also interested in what the insectoid woman, human, and their caninoid leader brought to the table.

At least, I assume she’s leading us. Miiya looked to Juniper to see if the fresh-faced adventurer had any plans she wanted to share. It sounded like they were going to investigate the South Road, but Miiya hoped they weren’t planning on rushing out into the stormy evening. She’d been flying most of the day and was bushed. Further; the weather and darkness were going to keep her grounded if they set out right now.

[ʀʏᴋᴇ - ᴀʀʙᴏʀʜᴀᴠᴇɴ] 𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇: 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃

Miiya Aether
Mentions: @spoiled bread @Sanity43217 @Moonberry @carsOwO

Miiya’s smile broadened at the wags of Juniper’s tail. She hadn’t met many doglike beastkin, and found that the wagging tail was just as cute when attached to a humanoid as a true canine. “Well alright then.” She thought for a moment as Juniper greeted Shiki and Reed spoke about the missing persons. “Say; that contract got any room for more retainers? I’m not a Guild member, but I’ve worked independent security contracts.” she asserted. “If yer searching for people, places, or things, yew’ll do better with an Aerial scout on yer side.” Miiya proposed.

The birdgirl did not have anywhere in particular she needed to be at the moment. She’d been heading West with the vague notion of finding work in The See. Though Miiya wasn’t the biggest fan of magic--and most fae were pretty magic--she had decided she couldn’t keep avoiding the large and diverse lands and cities of The See. This being the edge of fae territory, and Juniper’s mission sounding a little magic made Miiya think this might be a good chance at getting her feet wet.

It was a good thing Miiya was not biased against nonhumans, because the woman that appeared next was about as innon-human as humanoids came. Between asking for food made of brains--Like… human brains? Miiya wondered--and looking in three different directions at once, Marrion was weirdness incarnate. Well… Viv was pretty bizarre too, before I got to know her. Miiya counseled herself. She wanted to make a good impression on a potential employer, and that meant acting open-minded. “The stew’s not bad.” She encouraged Marrion. ”For being, ya know, brain-free,” she grinned.

Miiya listened to Reed’s recounting of his recent experiences in Arborhaven. “Yeah, they do seem like a bunch of withdrawn sourpusses.” Miiya agreed loudly, watching the nearby patrons flinch and grip their talismans at every little disturbance--especially anything lively or loud. She didn’t like the continual sidelong glances and mutters. In her experience, those could lead to groups of malcontents ginning up the courage to try some cloak-and-dagger shu. She figured it was better to confront such nastiness head-on and either chase away, or expose any wicked intent, rather than have some coward try to slip a dirk in you when your guard was down.

When Netzir blew up one of his magic chess pieces and then transformed its shards into a shower of sparkly dust, she decided to seize the opportunity. Miiya slipped off her barstool, leaving behind her emptied bowl and tankard. Picking out the grumpiest of the nearby patrons, who seemed to have the most to plot say (under his breath), she leaned down and threw an arm around the seated man’s shoulders. “I agree, friend! That WAS quite the show!” Miiya said loudly, pointing to the sparkles with her free hand. “Yew wanna share those compliments yer muttering with our magician here?” The birdgirl wasn’t large, but there was a surprising [strength A] in her grip, and the friendly arm around the patron’s shoulders wasn’t. In fact, it felt like it could quickly turn into a sleeper hold if the man wasn’t sufficiently compliant and complimentary.

[ʀʏᴋᴇ - ᴀʀʙᴏʀʜᴀᴠᴇɴ] 𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇: 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃

Miiya Aether

Mentions: @Moonberry @carsOwO @Sanity43217

“Meh.” Miiya replied to Netzir’s snarky comment, her lips twisting into an expression of someone who’s just bitten into something unexpectedly sour. Oh, so he’s one of those kinds of mage. she thought to herself, settling down from her monologued expose of her life’s story while the blue-furred beastkin began playing chess with his glowy familiar--or whatever it is. It takes all types. Miiya reminded herself, wryly, and decided to seek out a more conversational drinking companion.

No sooner had she turned away from Netzir than another beastkin gusted into the tavern. This one seemed a fresh-faced adventurer, announcing herself as one “Juniper Larkspur” and immediately stating her business to the entire tavern. Miiya favored the girl with a friendly smile; quite a different reaction from most of the locals, who were either studiously ignoring her or shooting her various flavors of unfriendly glares.

Poor kid, was Miiya’s first thought as the girl visibly wilted in the silence. “Hiya, Juniper! My name’s Miiya!” It wasn’t in the birdgirl’s nature to stay quiet and enjoy the repercussions of a well-intentioned faux pas. Grabbing her last (for now) refill of tonight’s stew, and leaving behind a nice tip, Miiya shoved off from her seat between Shiki and Netzir, heading for the newcomer. “Talking can come before, during, and after.” She countered the barkeep’s assertion with her own, adding a bright grin (dimmed only by a bit of bay leaf stuck between her teeth) to soften her words.

The ale was making Miiya feel gregarious, and giving her the liquid courage to practically drag Ms Larkspur with her to a pair of empty stools, ushering the bright-eyed young beastkin to sit next to the silent Shiki, while Miiya, herself took the stool to the right. As she had asserted, so did she demonstrate; plowing into her third bowl with gusto while at the same time quizzing the newcomer. “I’m not with the guild. Are you?.” Miiya replied to Juniper’s general inquiry about anyone being from the Adventurer’s Guild. “What’s this about finding missing people? Are yew working a contract?” the birdgirl guessed.

While waiting for Juniper’s reply, Miiya watched the scene unfolding between the barkeeper, bard, and Netzir. Indeed, Miiya did want to hear a song, and she’d been ready to make a request before the mage spoke up. “More like those crystals are made of pure mystical bullshu!”” she scoffed to Juniper in a conspiratorial whisper. Miiya had busked her own share of street corners and dusky taverns. More than one magicker had made a big show of “donating” mana-conjured baubles or coin--only for Miiya to discover that the “payment” had evaporated to nothingness after the mage departed. She had no evidence that Netzir was so cheating the musician but, since she was still feeling a bit salty at his dismissiveness, she decided there wasn’t any harm in a little secret sniping. ”What do you think? Is he just a furry blue blowhard?” she asked with a quiet snicker.

[ʀʏᴋᴇ - ᴀʀʙᴏʀʜᴀᴠᴇɴ] 𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇: 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃

[url=iwakuroleplay.com/threads/irihis-char…]
[Center] Miiya Aether
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Miiya’s smile grew broader at @carsOwO Netzir’s turn of phrase, and she laughed at his self-appointed title. “That’s a good one!” Her eyes sparkled with genuine mirth, and she found she instantly liked her impromptu blue-hued drinking companion. He seemed much more fun than the disheveled drunk to her right. Miiya was not on guard against anything worse than pickpockets, so her cursory glance at @Sanity43217 Shiki missed the subtle signs that he wasn’t just another lush looking for joy at the bottom of his cup.

Turning to her left to face the beastkin, Miiya gave him her answer. “The weather, most definitely, but seems like the socializing ain’t bad either.” Her voice and demeanor were open and friendly as she introduced herself. “I’m Miiya, and I’m pleased to meet yew, Yer Supreme fuzzyness.” She twitched a little, giving the impression of a mock bow without having to put too much effort into it. She’d give Netzir a moment to reciprocate with his own introduction, though there was more than a passing chance that she’d be sticking with “Fuzzball Supreme”.

“I was flying West when I ran into this storm.” Miiya gestured to the rain lashing the tavern’s windows. “Looks like I’m grounded for the evening.” She took another sip of her ale. Miiya wasn’t far into her stein, but she was already feeling the effects as the start of a pleasant buzz. The Aerial’s rapid metabolism and circulation pushed the alcohol through her veins. This is a pleasant way to rehydrate she thought to herself.

Hearing the quiet thump of the barkeep setting out a bowl of this evening’s stew, Miiya turned all the way around and picked up her spoon. “Alright! Thanks!” she said to the bartender, though they had already moved on to another customer. Blowing on the steaming lumps of meat, tubers, and thick broth, she posed a question to Netzir. “This smells great; yew had supper yet? The grub here any good?” she queried him as to what she should expect once she dug in. “Not that I’m sending it back, either way; I was getting low on fuel, and I’m not gonna go back out in that,” she gestured with the laden spoon toward the door of the tavern, “to hunt around for better.”

If Netzir proved amiable to further conversation, Miiya would make more of it, mostly focused on getting to know him. Was he from around here? What was the glowy bit on his shoulder? Was he some sort of mage? What did he do for work? Eventually she got around to asking his reason for being in the tavern--and Arborhaven, for that matter--if he had indicated he wasn’t a local. None of Miiya’s questions were particularly probing, and she wouldn’t press Netzir if he declined to speak on any particulars.

The birdgirl, herself, would openly share her own lore, prompted by Netzir’s questions or volunteered, following the lines of her own inquiries: Miiya was originally from Ryke but she had visited Arborhaven before, she didn’t have a single iota of magical aptitude, she’d had a lot of jobs.

Here, check this out.” Miiya had started eating, but she paused and set her spoon down for a moment. Unsnapping her jacket, she pulled down the neckline of the gambeson vest beneath, exposing a tatoo of a small blue swallow on her collarbone. “Six thousand miles sailed.” she explained. Though it had been a few years since she served on the Whale King, Miiya was still proud of her accomplishments aboard, and she tended to take any opportunity to show off her nautical tattoos.



If Netzir hadn’t realized by now, he would likely soon recognize that Miiya was something of a chatterbox--especially when she was feeling comfortable and had, now, half a pint in her. The Aerial had the unique ability--whether by physiology, or simply just practice--to inhale food, drink, breath, and still talk without pausing. In the time it had taken to make introductions, ask her questions, and detail a little of her own background, the Aerial woman had already made it through two of her three bowls of stew, and was starting on the third.

Along with her powerful aviator’s heart, Miiya had a lot of lung capacity--and a set of pipes to match. She wasn’t employing even a fraction of the volume she could hit, but neither was she particularly quiet. Anyone eavesdropping--or just nearby--would be treated to the bits of her life story that she was amiably oversharing.

summary

Miiya eats, drinks, and talks about herself… kind of a lot.
She asks Netzir about himself, his magic, his work, etc. and even sorta listens to any responses he might give.