(1867-04-14) A Night Out
A Night Out
Summary: Adrienne and Emilia disguise a certain Tracano princess and all three sneak out of the Cassomir Manse for a night at the docks.
Date: 04/14/1867
Related: Preparing for Battle.
Adrienne  Clara  Emilia  

Various Locations - Sunsreach
In Scene Set
14th of Avril, 1867

The day prior had seen unprecedented events unfold in Sunsreach. A single vote having come to meet the Queen’s stipulations to see the Archducal position filled, even more that both Duke Symon and Duke Darren had voted for Duchess Eleanor. Even more were the announcements that came after that raised question if the feud between the Greycens and Haldis was truly coming to an end with the announcement of the betrothal of Duke Darren Haldis and Lady Katerine Greycen. A state dinner was set for those who had position to give vote in the ArchDucal, and their seconds, and spouses if they had not been their second. This meant that Raelyn and Stephen would both be away from the manse for the evening, along with a proper escort to see them to the Palace. With the festive air that existed, it had provided a fine opening for an invitation to be extended to a particular Princess to spend the evening at the Cassomir Manse.

After checking with her cousin Adrienne, Emilia had seen such an invitation sent to Clara. Arrangements had been seen to, ensuring the girls would have the evening to themselves. Snacks and the like that would not cause much fuss, had been set up in Emilia’s sitting room. The room itself had been re-arranged a little to serve as base and setting for the sleepover, with an added couch or two brought along. Those who had helped, held some hope the small event and visit from Clara might help nudge loose the mood that Emilia had slipped into since her brother’s visit. The nightmares that had seemed to be stirred up again, were surely something Adrienne was aware of to some degree as well. But the servants had vanished away with the arrival of Clara, leaving the trio to their own devices for the evening.

Though there had been additional arrangements as well, handled by Emilia and unseen, the sets of leathers tucked away in her other rooms. The darkening agent that Emilia was currently explaining to Clara,”To of hide of your coloring,” her hand fluttering at her friend’s red hair. “It will wash of out of easily. But help to draw less of an eye when we are of about.” The ever stoic one, perhaps a bit more solemn and stoic (if that were possible), but it does seem she had given some thought to this particular outing that had been discussed prior to Prince Tristan’s wedding.


Her attire is of the usual casualness and even more than that, common Huntress tunic and leggings devoid of any adornments, dark brown hair done in a braid. After all, Adrienne is a Huntress, and especially with what they may have planned for the later hours on this eve, she had decided against the fashionable outfit adequate for a lady. Truth be told, dresses had been a quite frequent bane of late, with official dinners at Roseguard with the Alhazredi guests, and now even more recently, at the wedding feast of Prince Tristan and Lady Elaida.

As if she were rejoicing in the regained freedom, Adrienne moves with apparent glee and ease. Even so, she casts Emilia attentive glances now and then, as if to make sure her cousin is alright. There is that hint of concern that flashes briefly in her green eyes, consequence of nightmares of the touched one, that had not exactly remained quiet. Her emerald eyes cut to Clara, Adrienne's expression softening into a smile as she inspects the impressive red hair of the Tracano Princess. "As beautiful an eye catcher as it is… I'd recommend following Emilia's advice, Clara, as the darker hair will make you look less conspicuous. Besides, a black-haired woman will have much less risk of being mistaken for a red-haired Tracano - as the change of hair color will actually affect your overall appearance!" When did the Huntress get so versed in the secrets of subterfuge and disguise? Maybe it is her training as a Huntress, to be aware of how to hide best in the woods, which has provided the Cassomir with this wise insight..

And with her attention shifting briefly away from Clara's fiery tresses, Adrienne's hand lifts, as it is placed on Emilia's lower arm, she meeting her cousin's gaze for a moment, and the solemn look within those dark eyes with an encouraging optimistic glint of her own. "I am looking forward to this. It will be our little adventure," she remarks in a murmur trembling a little with anticipation, loud enough for the other two to hear. When indeed, this planned little excursion seems to hold much more excitement for her than all the recent balls she had to attend.

Clara’s adornments, when she had come to the Cassomir manse, may have been less extravagant as usual..but still screamed Tracano. After all, there was her Lancer guard to worry about, as well as the mere fact of getting out of the palace, though made easier with the sudden events regarding the Archducal election. Still…Clara still looked like Clara when she had come in. Of course, there was the garment bag that Clara carried, which within its confines was a more appropriate outfit. One devoid of royal affectation and seemingly created by someone other than the finest of seamstresses. Considering that Clara herself made it, a tunic and breeches combination, it quite possibly made for better concealment, for it looked so plain in comparison to her usual ensemble. That bag is resting on the floor near Clara’s chair…as Clara herself eyes the temporary hair dye. A soft giggle escapes from her lips as attention turns to Emilia.

“You put some thought into this…” is the phrase that Clara chooses to start with, a sly grin upon her features. “This is that dye we were going to use together for the masquerade, isn’t it?” The masquerade the two failed to make it to, because of a slight faegate mishap. “I would have brought the shoes that I was going to use to make us equal height…but I doubt very much that a Huntress would be about in 2 inch heels.” The Tracano soon-to-be-disguised princess sets her hair free, having the locks of hair drape over her shoulder as she reaches for the darkening agent. “Better get started on this now, or we will be here all night.” With that, Clara starts in on becoming a brunette, keeping her hands busy.

But…that is not to say that she cannot hold a conversation while dying her hair. “I feel a little guilty, not telling Alaina. You know she is going to be so upset with me if she finds out about this.” There is a passing look of concern on Clara’s mien, though it swiftly fades as Clara continues. “But…a chance to see the city from a different point of view? I couldn’t pass on that opportunity!” There may be also the fact that Clara wouldn’t be recognized, hopefully, as royalty. Or, simply, Clara likes to dress up or down, as the case may be.


There was that hint of tiredness about Emilia’s eyes, a result of I'll sleep had the past nights and something that could not simply be hidden. Though it did help to mask the occasional turn of tightness that came to the corners of her eyes. Catching one of Adrienne’s glances, Emilia did give her cousin one of those corner tugging smiles in an attempt to reassure her. “Of exactly,” comes the agreement with what Adrienne says. “Especially since we are having mostly dark and brown of hair colorings amongst of the Huntresses.” And they were to make Clara into a Huntress, were they not?

Another of those smiles is given to Clara,”Of aye, I have.” A small nod given,”It is of being the one and of same. After of all, making you of seem a Huntress is if simpler then trying to make us of being the same, of aye?” Referencing that unused plan for the masque they came to miss. “Of indeed, we would not wear of such. To much of risk in added of noise and of easier to be losing of one's balance.” Heels just were not good for being sneaky!

As Clara begins working on adding the coloring agent to her hair, and that hand touches to her arm, Emilia does meet her cousin’s gaze. “Of aye, it will be of a needed and of pleasant distraction from everything that is going of on. “ Some things would be easier to be distracted from then others. Looking back to Clara and moving to help in what way she might be able to. “I of imagine the palace is being in much of an uproar, “ in a good way,”with of the ArchDucal of position sorted so of quickly. Another view of that as well as of the city.” A small nod of understanding comes,”Of aye, she would likely not be of pleased with you, or with of us. And I am of sure there would be of others not exactly of happy.” Even if some of them might understand wish they could try and do the same! “But I was of thinking, once we are of ready, to of perhaps head more towards of the docks. There would be less of chance of crossing of paths with of nobles who might of be familiar with of us. Or of other Huntresses.” Each did have certain areas and places they tended to frequent more.


Adrienne lifts a brow when she follows the exchange about the hair dye. Her arms cross before her and she shifts ever so slightly in her stance, observing the Tracano as she applies the dye to her fiery red curls, with curious fascination. The mention of Alaina, has her green eyes shift, her brows drawn together while the corner of her mouth lifts just so. She just can't help it, but the mention of that name brings about memories of another pact. "She's here, in the Manse?", the freckled Cassomir inquires, in almost innocent curiosity. "Or did she stay behind at the Palace."

Her focus is bound to shift to Emilia then, Adrienne canting her head in somewhat understated acknowledgement to the observations of Huntress hair. "I can't recall any Huntress with fiery red hair. The reason is obvious. She would have to run around with a hood permanently drawn over her head.", is offered in a slightly amused tone. As for the Archducal elections, the Cassomir shakes her head. "It went almost too easily, didn't it?" Not that she dabbled that much in politics, being blessed with lower branch insignificance. A nod then, to Emilia's suggestion. "To the docks… and then…?" Her arms uncross as Adrienne takes a turn about Clara as she is seated, observing her hair dying process from the other side.

With Clara’s attention turned towards making her auburn hair more brownish, she misses the tiredness of her friend. Although, from all indications, it seems that Clara might have had experience in coloring her hair before, as her actions are quick and precise…seeking to make short work of the coloring process. With her eyes upon the task at hand, Clara responds back to Adrienne. “Alaina is in charge of my security detail. Even if she isn’t here, she is going to know I came here regardless. The Lancers have been positively ridiculous with security since Elaida was poisoned. Though, I would imagine it might be a little more lax due to the festive occasion…more Lancers on hand to watch over the voting delegation instead of innocent little me.” A hand dips down into the garment bag, fetching out a hairbrush to tame the unruly mop of increasingly brunette locks while less and less of the Tracano’s familiar red hue is visible. And….speaking of Huntress. “I hope you two have appropriate accouterments for me to borrow. I certainly couldn’t carry my longbow here without raising suspicion.” Not that she would want to bring that bow of hers anyways. The embellishments carved into it would be a dead giveaway.

“It was considerably easy…the vote, I mean.” The tone from Clara adopts a more pensive nature. “I mean…from all I heard and read about this sort of thing, it was supposed to take at least a couple of days. At least a deadlock on the first day, with the more official sort of voting the next. But this?” There is a pause, as Clara’s countenance gains that far-away semblance…her usual thinking expression. “It is a shock. Especially with Duke Haldis voting the way he did. I…wouldn’t be surprised, though, if there was some sort of agreement. Granted, I don’t know of one. But, if I was the deciding vote and I knew it…I would go for some sort of agreement.” It is all spoken with an air of hyperbole…a guess in the air that is soon dismissed as Clara seems to finish her dye job. “So? Did I get everything? I think, after this, I just need to braid it…maybe put it up…and then we can get to the matter of dressing me appropriately.” The color of hair seems awfully close to Adrienne’s own….perhaps just a tad bit lighter, if that. Already the brush is being replaced in the bag…the hair gathered up while Clara’s fingers start to work it in a braid…all without Clara observing herself.

“Ooo…the docks sound like fun. Almost certain there won’t be anyone there that would care about three Huntresses walking. Then maybe the market, if it is busy enough.” And there is that sly little grin of Clara’s. “As long as we stay away from Goldseat, we should be okay. But we can go anywhere. I am at your tender mercies.” Then, she adds with a laugh. “Both of you.”


Emilia does stay out of Clara’s way as she seems to have things well in hand with turning the color of her hair,”Seem you are having some of experience with of this.” Some turn of curiosity and amusement existing internally about that little observation. She nods when Clara brings up the matter of accouterments,”Of aye, I am of having of such, a bow and of a knife, along with of a basic of armor.” Even if the later was more of obvious, with the leathers set out not too far away. “It is of a helpful of distraction for them to have the delegates to watch of over.” Especially with them all gathered at the palace, along with that delegation from Alhazred. “But I can much of imagine that they are more of on alert and on of edge after Princess of Elaida’s poisoning. I of imagine they will remain of so for awhile.” There is just a faint tugging at the corners of her mouth,”That is at least of a perk in of being Mistress of the Hunt, I do have of say in of mine own security.” Not that there has been much change in her own detail, but it did make it a little easier when she wanted to ‘slip out’.

“A couple of days at of a minimum, of really. To have it of finished in one of vote? Entirely un-of-precedented.” Canting her head a little as she listens to Clara speak further about the vote, a brow rises just a little,”Of course there was some sort of arrangement, have you not of heard of the other of announcement? The betrothal of Lady of Katerine to Duke of Darren, the opening of Whitewalls to of House of Greycen. And that is just of what we are of knowing, no of doubt there is more that we will perhaps of never hear of about that was being of agreed to in of reaching such of an agreement.” By all rights, Emilia had never actually dabbled in politics, her aversion to Court was well enough known by the pair…yet she did seem to have a fine grasp on the matter. “Though of how of well their of vassals will of fall into of line will need to be of seen, since it is much of seeming that it was of a surprise to of them as well as of everyone of else.” Of course meaning the Viscounts under them, never mind the lower folks. “It will be of time to see if such of a step towards of peace can take of hold as been of started. But it is of good to see that they worked of hard to see that the Queen’s of requirement was of met, that they are behind of her in such of efforts to be of bringing Rivana of together and beginning of healing. To have of a real of peace, not of a false of peace.” Like preceded the Succession War. “It will be of good to have of chance to present of a united of front during of the Great of Treaty negotiations of though. “

Continuing that little bit of ramble on the topic as she does check out Clara’s job on getting her hair,”Of aye, I do think you of got of it all. And of aye, a braid would be of good.” It was a common hair styling with the Huntresses, and seemed to be what both Cassomirs had already done to their hair. A mild of nod,”Of aye, they are not likely to give much of notice of us there, or of the markets as you are of saying. I am often given of little of notice when I am of there, even with Syrn or Pella of along with me,” who were often her ‘watchers’ yet. Though she had taken to rotating a few others into the mix. “There are of being a couple of taverns in either of place that we could of stop of within, if we wished to take part of such.”


There is a nod coming from Adrienne to Clara's words about the Cassomir Lancer cousin Alaina. "Of course," she smiles, sharing a glance there with the Tracano. "It shall inspire Emilia and me to look even more diligently after your safety." A remark that comes along with a wink. The freckled Huntress then falls silent, content to listen to the exchange about heightened security, being currently distracted by other requirements like delegations and the Archducal announcement. At the mention of accouterments, her gaze drops to the dagger in her belt and she frowns. "Do you mean it could be a problem if I took my dagger along…?", Adrienne asks, in the direction of Emilia. Drawing the weapon just far enough out of the scabbard that the light of candles and torches gets caught on a lightsilver blade. "On the other hand… I doubt anyone would notice, and should the need occur, I'd rather have this dagger at hand than a rather mediocre, less balanced weapon."

To the election, her shoulders lift in a pointed shrug. "The quicker the better, I would think," Adrienne Cassomir opines, green eyes shifting from Emilia to Clara as to observe that Huntress braid in the making. "It's true, Duke Haldis' vote seems to have been bought with a marriage, but then again, that's politics, isn't it? I am glad I have been able to keep out of that thus far." Her lips twist into a smile. "You look lovely, Clara, very much like a Huntress. I doubt anyone would really recognize you." She straightens then, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger, and asks: "The docks, then? The market with a visit to the taverns that should prove interesting. It sounds like a lovely plan."

“You could say that.” Clara’s fingers continue to weave her hair into a proper braid, as Clara turns her eyes to Emilia. “Do you recall that my hair used to be a different color, Emilia? I used to dye it before, when I was younger. My…err…false father, I suppose you could say, said that he liked me better with more brown hair and I blindly followed along.” The fingers finish with the braid, as Clara tosses her hair back, the braid falling neatly down the center of her back. “Of course, now that I look back on it, it was to better pass me off as his own, but back then, it was presented as a fun thing for a daughter to do for her father.” The hand now reaches for the bag, to hoist up to Clara’s lap. “Mind if I change clothes and try on those leathers you have out for me? I am anxious to see just how well we can have me pass as one of you.” There’s that bright smile again…Clara is certainly enjoying herself, even if it is just the thought of walking around incognito.

Adrienne gets a smile and a nod, in response to her dagger. “Oh, you should take it, Adrienne! After all, you are already a Huntress and people expect you to carry your own personal preference for weapons. It is just that anything I would carry would look out of place, probably. With the exception of my quarterstaff…but even then, you don’t see Huntresses with quarterstaves all that often, either. Everything else I have just looks so…Tracano.” Clara wrinkles her nose at the word Tracano, as if it was slightly revolting, although Clara certainly only means it in jest. “All the hair dye in the world won’t help if I carry items that are known to be in the Princess’ possession. Even the dagger from the wedding tournament would be telling.” Then…the wedding discussion. “Oh…yes, I had forgotten about the betrothal. I am sure that was part of the reason for the vote. Anyway, regardless, it does free Alysande from some worries, certainly, seeing two known detractors of each other starting to mend relations.”

Then, Clara stands. “Emilia, where would you like me to change? Would it be alright to use your changing room? I know we certainly don’t want me walking out into the hall and having the servants see me.” She steps over, bag in one hand, as she inspects the leathers sitting out….her fingers sliding along the armor gently. “I won’t take long at all.”


Emilia does give the dagger a faint look over when Adrienne pulls it out, though when Clara says as she does, Emilia does point out,”This is of true, but most of Huntresses cannot be of affording lightsilver of weapons.” Emilia was likely one of the few Cassomirs, certainly the only mainline one, that didn’t have any lightsilver to her name. Many nobles didn’t even spend the coin to have them. “But as of the blade is not of showing when it is of being sheathed, I am not thinking it should be of an issue. Though if of used, might of be of noticed. But if there is of reason to be of using, I am of thinking we will not be of caring about of that.” There was a lightness to her tone on that account, how often did they actually have cause to use their weapons within Sunsreach?

“Quicker is of better,” Emilia agrees,”But never before have they of come together to make it if so. Division and discord, of politics have of stood in of the way.” And hand dances in the air with the fluttery finger movement as she speaks of the rather unprecedented event. “Of aye, and of no,” concerning marriages and politics,”this of betrothal would be of like…if we were of marrying of Devlin or I to one of the main of l’Saigner to be healing of that if rivalry. And of our divide of there is not so of deep as of the one between of their Houses.” The example being given so her cousin might grasp just how monumental and big the matter was. And not just the usual turn of politics at work.

Emilia nods to Clara,”Of aye, you can be of using my of room.” Picking up the leathers to carry them in for her. Sorry, the manse just doesn’t have the murals her rooms back in Ironhold have. Though if they keep having to spend so much time in Sunsreach….that could change. “If you have any if issued, just give of a shout.” Before leaving to let Clara to change, and going to put on the set of leathers of her own.


A brow lifts, Adrienne shooting Clara Tracano a curious glance when the princess admits to having dyed her hair in the past, a ghost of a frown there at the mention of that false father. But so far the freckled Cassomir stays silent, unobtrusive yet observant Huntress decoration - until Clara addresses her about the dagger. Her green eyes shift to Emilia then and she nods, lips twitching into a smile. "It's agreed then. Besides, having my dagger around makes me feel much safer already. I even wear it in a different scabbard today, see? Plain and serviceable. I doubt anyone would get suspicious about it." At which Adrienne falls silent, pleased, and content to leave it at that.

There is a faint twitch of a brow though when her cousin continues about the oh so unlikely match, and the monumental sensation of it that such a betrothal actually has been sealed. "Of course! I am aware. Also… to see the Betrayer matched to the neutral Greycens," referring to the Succession War there, "and well, even if he's the Duke of Eastfield, he remains a bastard.", Adrienne states with a smile. "It is a price Eleanor Greycen pays for the position, that's for sure. But what is to the gain for both Houses, does affect Rivana as well. Less discord has always been preferable, and as you already stated, hence Rivana shall be more of a united front." The mention of l'Saigner elicits a shudder of the freckled Huntress, "One forbid that any of us should ever suffer such a fate."

As everyone else is busy with changing into Huntress leathers, Adrienne does as well, having brought a rather plain set of leathers along - not those one she usually wears who at least offer a hint of her noble birth, being of special quality and ornamented subtly with the Cassomir coat of arms. She takes a plain Huntress bow from those Emilia has provided, after securing the belt with her own dagger about her waist. The glance she gives Emilia, gleaming with excitement.

There isn’t any mention from Clara as she ducks into Emilia’s room to change into her plainclothes and leathers provided of the bastard comment that Adrienne drops. However, there is a momentary flash of a frown, even if no one catches it. The door closes and silence prevails for a minute or two as all three begin their changing. Clara does take just a moment longer than the other two, but only because she is doing a complete wardrobe change. As a result, the other true Huntresses may be waiting for another minute before Clara emerges from Emilia’s room. And….apart from the fact that Clara is walking in without the usual bow and dagger of the typical huntress, she at least looks rather similar to the two Cassomirs in the sitting room.

And…and typical of Clara, the first thing she says after her transformation is “How do I look?” She gives a little turn, showing the leathers and the simple tunic/breeches combination, with that dark brown hair in its tight braid hanging casually over her right shoulder. “I think we just might be able to pull this off.” The reserved words do little to hide the excitement behind the voice. Even the slight frown towards the thought just before changing is gone…replaced with that bright pixie, already brought so much more to the forefront. And…if that pixie is so readily seen now, what will happen once they scale over the wall? “This….is going to be so much fun! “


A faint glance is given towards Adrienne by Emilia when her cousin points out the Duke’s bastard origins. Least he was a noble bastard. There is some faint consideration there, it was not like House Cassomir was without bastards themselves. But the matter as a whole is let drop away, Emilia only giving a slight nod to the comment about suffering such a fate. It was an evening for fun, not endlessly political talk and the like. They could go bore themselves at Court if they wished that level of ‘fun’.

With leathers secured, Emilia does see about securing her knife to her belt, it was plain and normal enough that there was not need to swap it out. Settling her short bow into place, before she catches Adrienne’s look. Though it is that rather normal stoic expression that seems to be given with a corner tugging smile.

When Clara makes her appearance, Emilia cants her head as she studied the change that has been made. Fingers lightly dancing in the air,”Something is not quite of right.” A mild ‘hmm’ coming as she moves towards Clara. One of the other knifes picked up as she approaches Clara. A short bow handed to her friend as that knife is tucked into the belt,”Of there….now it is of being of perfect.” Stepping back to take in their combined handy work to ‘transform’ Clara into a Huntress.

“And of course, we will be of pulling this of off. Now of come, let us be off,” Emilia making not for the door, but one of the windows. Hopping up onto the sill before glancing back,”I will of go of first, Clara, you follow of after me and, Adrienne, you of come of after her.” Meaning the Cassomirs would be on either side of the Tracano to be able to help her if needed. And out the window she went, it quite likely not the first time Emilia had done so either. There was a ledge just below that window that feet could find there way to, Emilia having moved on off to the side. Paused there to await Clara’s appearance before continuing on to lead them on a entirely unconventional path to depart the grounds of the Cassomir Manse.


Adrienne assesses Huntress Clara with an impressed flicker in her green eyes. "Perfect," she agrees with Emilia, after her touched cousin has added that final touch to the Tracano's appearance. But after all, this Cassomir seems to be less talkative, now that they are about to put their daring plan into motion. And so there is merely a nod given to Emilia, the freckled Cassomir falling in behind Clara to keep the rear. Slipping out of the window with an ease that does not know fear of heights, Adrienne keeps close to Clara, ready to assist if the Princess should falter, her back kept towards the wall, as she edges sideways, carefully, along on the ledge beneath the window.

A bow (albeit a smaller bow than she is used to) and a dagger later, and the transformation from princess to huntress is complete. There just might be a bright smile…one that Clara is having some difficulty wrangling in to a more stoic mien. Clara manages…but only when Emilia offers instruction, and heads out the window. With only a moment of hesitation, Clara steps out onto the ledge herself. The pseudo Huntress wavers slightly, her balance shifting precariously before she is able to right herself…but, from that moment, she seems to be able to follow Emilia with relative ease…though heavily tempered with caution. And follow the two, Tracano and Cassomir, behind the Mistress of the Hunt over the rather unusual but seemingly well-traveled path.

Emilia seems to be true to her word. With her guidance, the three are able to traverse over the rooftops and out of the Cassomir Manse grounds with none of the usual guards the wiser. There may be a tinge of remorse within Clara…the guilt of doing something she knows she shouldn’t do, but it is replaced with the elation of what exactly she is doing. She is out of the Palace. She is out of the eyes of the Lancers. And….she is a Huntress, even if only playing as one. The three drop to the street level, and Clara is all sorts of excited. She only barely maintains enough willpower to keep her expression still and somewhat calm, although the ghost of a smile curls at the corners of her lips.

“Well then…that was easy. Let’s see what fun we pixies can find, now.”


A brow raises just a little to see Clara take on a more stoic mien, it was a Cassomir trait to be certain. A hand had readied to help steady Clara when Emilia had seen the slight wobble, but it had been unneeded as Clara managed to steady herself. The way is lead with ease, Emilia holding up the group at times as they traversed the path she had chosen. Most of the time for obvious reasons, a patrol or stray servant going from here to there. But there were a few times that she had delayed their progress where both of the others may have well been upon the point of questioning the reason for pausing, with the cause not obvious (even to the well trained Adrienne) and yet it would be moments later a more silent passing of Huntress or guard would happen to supply that reason. How exactly Emilia knew they were coming, hard to say.

From rooftops to treetops to escape the walls about the manse. Emilia landed lightly to street beyond, dark eyes watching Clara follow suit, before to Adrienne as she rounded out the ‘escaping’ trio. One of those corner tugging smiles coming to see that excitement in Clara. “Of aye, let us of away.”

Taking some turn of effort to try not to be so graceful in the steps she looks as they began to make their way down to the docks. Not the easiest thing to do really. “Most of the ships will be of tied up, but there are always of things to be of seeing. And of the inns and taverns down of there will be of busy of enough for us to go un-of-noticed.”

The salty smell of the harbor is scented soon enough with the notes of the docks themselves added in as they drew near their destination. Ships swayed and bobbed listly on their mooring lines along the great wooden piers that made up the capital cities port area. Most only had a bit of array movement on board, a deckhand left to keep watch most often, or a few stragglers yet making their way dockside for their own evening out. There was one ship yet being unloaded, a bit slowly at that, with most docker workers having called it a day themselves. The strains of music could be caught from one of the near taverns, the din of activity within. There was a slight energy to the air, a festiveness. Even if not near to the levels that had come with the recent Royal weddings, the quick ArchDucal vote was a reason all its own to give thanks. Or in some cases, any reason to celebrate was reason enough to raise a drink.


It would be a lie to say, Adrienne expects Clara to act the Huntress she looks now with the required ease. After all, the princess has not enjoyed the extensive training that the Cassomir cousins had to go through. Her green eyes are turned towards Clara more often than not, while they are making their cautious escape, Adrienne's physique emanating that slight tension that will her help intercept any misstep the princess might make. A relieved exhale leaves the freckled Cassomir's lips, when they manage to reach the ground without the princess taking a fall, and Adrienne meets Clara's remark with an amused glitter of her eyes. She follows along, where Emilia leads the way, and trusts the judgment of her cousin, even if the approaching of this and that guard may not have been obvious to her right away. It is not that odd, given that bringing up the rear holds some disadvantage in regards of taking note of what is going on in front of them.

All of the time Adrienne remains quiet, focusing on keeping track of her surroundings, even so she will relax a little more when they reach the docks. The ship that is still being unloaded draws her attention, a brief flicker in her gaze as she assesses those at work there, before her attention shifts to the taverns and her lips curl just so. "What do you suggest?", she asks of Clara and Emilia. "Shall we go and visit one of those taverns for an ale?" The proposal is uttered in a low murmur, and her brows lift in a slightly daring manner.

There might not have been the casual ease of traversing unfamiliar terrain that Emilia or Adrienne possessed clearly present in Clara. However, she does seem to have a sort of natural talent, her reflexes enough to save her momentary fumble at first…and prevent further stumbling thereafter, when combined with care. Still….the princess pixie can still climb trees, at least down them. And all of that was behind the trio now as Emilia led the merry band down to the harbor. It’s a destination that Clara herself as been too numerous times…but always with an armored guard…and never like this. While it is true that, with Emilia and Adrienne both, the Tracano was probably as protected as she would ever be normally…this time was different. This time, she was just out with friends. Nevermind the fact that the three of them were well-armed…this was a girl’s outing!

As the strains of music catches Clara’s ear, she turns to her sister-in-arms. “Well, we can certainly go to one of the taverns. There shouldn’t be any problem with running into anyone we know down here….and I rather like the music.” Then, with a side-ward grin towards Adrienne, she adds, “And yes, I suppose we can have an ale, too. That would be an appropriate drink, I would imagine.” That grin grows into a smile. “We can all sit in a corner and brood and scare away all the men who dare to approach us!” That comment is finished with a short laugh….Clara was obviously jesting. Really, it seems that, at this point, she would be just about ready to do anything, just as long as it didn’t involve going back to the Manse.


Dark eyes do sweep over their surroundings as they reach the docks, darting over this or that, lingering a moment or two upon something or another. A mild cant of her head as Emilia listens to Adrienne and Clara, or perhaps something else all together. The trio of Huntresses gaining a mild glance themselves, though nothing to curious or inspectful. It was not an odd place to find such.

“To of a tavern then, as the music is calling to mine-sister it of seems.” A brow rises just a hint,”What is music of for but to of dance to of it?” A faint corner tugging smile appearing as Clara laughs. Noting to the pair as they make their way towards the taverns,”Might I be of suggesting to have a name in of mind to offer should one be of asked for. A nickname of even can be more of handy, less of trouble to call to of mind.” Emilia’s lips twitch just a moment before saying, her speech having slowed down as the words are put in the correct order, and no extra bits,”I am Slug, because I am slow.” Seems she might have used that before. And is self-aware of how identifying her normal odd speech might be.

The taverns are given a better look over as they draw nearer to them. But Emilia continues past the first after a slight tilt of her head, even if the music coming from it seems rather lively. “Too dark,”, is all she says on why. Not that it looks any different than any other building along the docks by all rights. It is the second in the street that she directs them along to. A sign having out front proclaims it to be ‘The Kraken’s Roost’.

The music that dances away from it is upbeat, though not quite as energetic as the one past. The inside is lit by lanterns hung here and there causing shadows to occasionally dance about. It is as well lit as one might hope for given the local. A fair crowd has taken to the place, while a majority seem to be a mix of sailors and dock workers there are locals, lower end merchants as well as the stray off duty guard to be found amongst those out for a drink or bite to eat and a spin upon the dance floor. Two or three tables seem to yet be unoccupied, it is to one of those that Emilia indicates, a slightly questioning look to her companions.

The trio does get a few lingering looks here. Cause well..they are not too bad upon the eyes, and some of the men are highly appreciative of that.


"Ale, yes. That must be a novelty for you," Adrienne smiles towards the Princess. "But yes, I agree. Let us get a drink." Her green eyes cut to Emilia, and she nods, amusement there in the smile that curves her lips. "Slug. Very well. Then I shall be Freckles, hmm?" For obvious reasons. Even so, the suggestion comes with a mischievous glint in those eyes of hers. She briefly nods to Emilia's assessment of the first place they are passing, and then approves of the choice of the Kraken's Roost. A grin adorns her features as 'Freckles' pushes her way through the crowd, following where 'Slug' leads them. Even if one or two staring men will receive a slight glare on her way to the table. "Fine. Here we are," Adrienne smiles as she lets herself slump into a chair. "Now. Where's the ale?" A round of ale she orders with a barmaid who saunters past them, then leans back, to regard her two friends, whilst keeping her attention on their surroundings as well.

Oh….another name? Clara wasn’t thinking of that! And…it shows, as the two so readily select their nom de plumes with no problem. Clara freezes…her normally loquacious self silenced as her mind scrambles for purchase. The music from the tavern lulls for just a minute….the minstrels changing songs…and in that moment, a cricket is heard chirping in the cool night air. And…this is what Clara latches onto, as her thoughts just lock upon the sound. “hmm….Cricket. Call me Cricket. That will work.” No real reason is given….and perhaps none is needed as the trio of Huntresses…Slug, Freckles and Cricket…now walk into the Kraken’s Roost.

And…little Cricket seems to live up to her namesake. She is quiet as the three move through towards the empty tables, a slight nod given to Emilia in approval for the selection. Adrienne receives a grin as she claims a chair…and a barmaid for her drinks. “Wasting no time, I see.” Her voice is quiet enough to only really be heard at the table…unless others are listening rather carefully indeed. Clara herself claims a chair…subconsciously between both Cassomirs. Same order as they used to escape the confines of courtly obligation. With a new name for the pixie, this little Cricket seems unobtrusive enough….but full of energy, just below the surface.


“Cheese and bread too,” is tossed at the barmaid by ‘Slug’ when ‘Freckles’ orders that round of ales. Her speech continuing to come at that slightly slow pace. It having its own sort of cadence to it. What looks may be given, garner no reaction from ‘Slug’, but she is used to the odd stray look or whisper that is best ignored.

It would seem the call made to pass by the first tavern was a good one, for a few moments after their ales are brought round a quarter of men come spilling into the tavern. Their leader a rather boisterous fellow who calls out to the barkeep,”A round, Sal! And send them with yer prettiest wench!” A round of laughter coming afterwards. “Ya, wouldn’t believe the mess ‘round at the Gooses Waddle, man can’t get a drink in peace.”

“What did ya say ta insult Nev’s wife this time?” Comes the call from one of the tables, inciting a round of laughter from the group and several others. Though the leader is quick to counter with,”Weren’t his wife I was talking about, it was yers!” It cause the man at the table to go red in the face as the others laugh once more. Any insult seeming to pass when the new group finds seat at one of the remaining tables and waves to have a drink delivered to the red faced man.

The exchange has Emilia….er..’Slug’ raising a slight brow at the other two..before she takes up a bit of bread from the small platter that was delivered with the ales. Placed in the center for all of them to share, there was several chunks of bread on it and a limited selection of cheese cubes. Not of bad quality, but certainly below what they would usually end up with at nobles gatherings or a high end establishment.

The music had dimmed during that arrival, everyone wanting a chance to hear the bit of gossip perhaps. But the volume picked right back up sending a few more to the dance floor. Several more groups were soon arriving and seeing the other tables and bar stools filled, leaving a few in the later groups to stand.


"Cricket." Adrienne digests the name as she repeats it, then tilts her head in approval. Who needs reasons for a name? 'Freckles' apparently does not. And so the three of them enter the tavern and saunter towards the table. Freckles shoots Slug a glance when the order for food is made, and her fingers tap a slightly impatient rhythm to the table when green eyes follow the barmaid to the bar. Her gaze cuts to the door, ever observant Huntress that she is, and Adrienne's eyes narrow when she notices the loud group that enters. Of course she cannot help but overhear, that glance of Slug meeting that of the freckled one, matching raised brow with raised brow.

Adrienne's eyes cut to the table when three mugs of ale are set down before them, along with the bread and cheese, and she manages to snatch some of the latter, chewing on the cheese for a moment, while she notes the music is gaining once again in volume, and the musicians start playing a merry jig. She raises her mug in toast to her two friends with a conspiratorial wink. "On a lovely evening, away from it all," Freckles says in a low murmur, and takes a good sip from her ale.

The little Cricket doesn’t seem terribly hungry, but she does snag a cube of cheese to sample. Brown eyes shift to the door as the rambunctious group of individuals make their presence known with the usual bravado one would expect. That is…all except for Clara, who seems somewhat drawn to the display. Not too surprisingly, considering the Cricket’s sheltered upbringing. With her attention on the group of men, she misses the silent exchange of Cassomirs on either side of her. She does, however, follow the trail of playful insults as her eyes dart from the boisterous one to the now red-faced individual, then back. Such mannerisms….hardly anything she’s seen with her eyes before. Crude, yes…but also somewhat captivating.

It is when the ales are raised, at least by Freckles, when Cricket comes back to her senses. She picks up her own mug, raising it to join Adrienne’s. “To an evening of minor adventures.” Minor because she certainly doesn’t want major upsets now, does she? The mug is brought to Cricket’s lips as she partakes of the liquid within. Her nose scrunches up slightly, as the taste wasn’t quite what she expected…but she drinks anyway, placing the mug down gently upon the table. Her hand rests on the table…and starts to tap upon the wooden surface. The music sure is quite lively, here….and the pixie is feeling it. Tapping along to the beat…both finger and foot.


The bread and cheese seeming to be ordered, not because 'Slug' was particularly hungry herself, but it was never good to drink on an empty stomach. And having something to also help clear the taste out now and again could be handy. The cheese was fair, though certainly beneath the finer qualities that found their way to the Palace. Slug raised her ale to return the toast by Freckles, words slowly making their way across her lips,"To being away from it all."

The behaviors and continued jesting that occurred about the in was certainly not something that was common place in a noble household, certainly not a royal one. On that score, being part of the Huntress Sisterhood had given the two Cassomirs some exposure to more open teasing and jests thrown about. Not quite to the degree that some of the dockworkers and sailors threw around once in awhile, some of it did get a bit crude and usually from men who had quite obviously gotten well into their cups.

A finger lightly taps against her mug of ale between sips of the dark liquid. The movement coming in time with the music that fills the tavern. The louder of the fellow occasionally drawing Slug's gaze. "Rather colorful," is the observation she makes to the others. Rather keeping her comments short with working to make her words come out in the right order.

With that finger and toe tapping, and less women than men about, it is not long before there are requests to dance being made to the three. It certainly doesn't help that an ale or two have helped embolden some of the men to ask for the dances, and that the girls seem nothing more than fellow commoners out for a drink themselves. After all, how mortified would the young lad currently approaching Cricket for a dance be if he knew she was actually a Tracano? And a Princess at that!

"How about tapping that foot with me out there on the dance floor?" A hand is offered expectantly towards Cricket, the lad certainly confident with the grin he has. The turn of manners certainly different than how dances were asked for at the usual balls and banquets.

Not a Princess, but those who sought to dance with Freckles would likely be quite mortified themselves to find out who they were so boldly seeking to dance with. It would seem that the freckles themselves have attacked a few admirers even. "Ya know it would be a right shame if ya didn't come and dance with me?"

It was not until the third such request that Slug acquiesced and was whisked on to the dance floor. The man sending a triumphant smirk towards the table he'd come from. It was a place that Slug quite couldn't keep her ethereal grace in check and it does draw a few eyes, more in that 'appreciative' way than anything else. Freckles and Cricket earning a few of those looks as well, should they choose to dance. And even if not. Though it is the barmaids, as might be expected, that seem to deal with most of the bravado from any of the men. Batting aside their forwardness', and sometimes their hands, with practiced ease.

"Why'd she dance with him and not me?" grouses the second man Slug had turned aside.

"He probably bathed this week!"

"Hey! I bathed!"

"Ya sure? Guess it's just because yer ugly then."

The exchange had the others at their tables laughing and tossing in their own comments.

"A bath can't fix that ugly."

"Ain't heard any complaints from yer wife."

"You leave Mable out of this!"

"I think she'd prefer I not. She likes.."

His words getting cut off as an ale goes soaring across the table at him as tempers flare. However, the man ducks the tankard, glaring at the man who threw it. It isn't the only as that tankard continues on to the next table, cracking into the back of one of the men there. Who is instantly out of his seat and rounding towards the table that the tankard seemed to come from, looking rather like an angry bear woke from hibernation…but with ale dripping off the back of his head.

All of this was watched by that rather boisterous fellow that had entered before and seemed to be familiar with the barkeep. Using an elbow to get the attention of the man next to him. A motion of his head towards the fight that was brewing, and on the crux of erupting in full. And while those in the immediate area of the couple tables have taken notice, there are many about the tavern who have not, especially those on the further end of the room.


"Minor adventures," Freckles echoes as if in confirmation of that wish, and she brings her mug of ale against Cricket's with a sound 'CLONK', while the look of her green eyes seems to convey 'Don't worry!'. A nod towards Slug, and her addition to the toast. Noting Clara's grimace after trying the ale draws a chuckle from Adrienne's lips as she takes a good sip from her own.

Then there are lads approaching and asking to dance, and Freckles seems to consider the various offers with a raised brow. Until her lips twitch into a smile and she chooses one of them, a young lad of moderately handsome features. After all they had come to have fun, no?

The merry jig is still being played by the musicians, but it is not the kind of dance Adrienne is used to. She manages somewhat though, offering her dancing partner a tempered smile while she is still on her guard.

What she lacks in dance expertise, Adrienne makes up for with her trained Huntress skills, noting the brawl that is about to become turbulent reality from the shouts and raised voices. And so she will excuse herself from the lad she was dancing with, as the jig comes to an end, her green eyes darting here and there to see where Slug and Cricket are at, whilst trying not to be drawn into the conflict - for now.

There is a blink of surprise from the non-Cassomir at the table, at the confidence in which she was approached. Clara is simply not used to that, unless it is coming from men trying to make a name for themselves…and so she is caught off-guard at the request. But Cricket, that adventurous little pixie, didn’t miss the request…and the slight bravado in which it was given. Still….she had to be sure…

“You’re asking me to dance?”

“Dat I am, unless you rather just sit here and tap all night. I figure yer gonna do dat anyway…I was just offering you a better place to do it.” The honesty is given with a shrug, then another devilish grin from the would-be dancer.

He is a persistent one…and his persistence pays off. Cricket rises to her feet, with only a touch of red upon her cheeks for those truly observant of her, and places her hand into the somewhat dashing patron as the two take to the dance floor….the first of the three to do so. And Cricket does not disappoint. While it is certainly not a dance she is used to, the incognito princess picks up the steps quickly enough, turning in a rather passable performance and showing off a bit of her own innate grace. Cricket does seem to rather enjoy herself, her brown braid bouncing up and down as she keeps up with her brazened dance partner.

That is…until the ruckus at the tables starts to go down. Cricket’s head swivels, her brown eyes taking in the possibility that her minor adventure is about to take a major turn. She stops dancing, right in the middle of the dance floor, and immediately starts looking for her companions, while murmuring an apology to her dance partner that she must join back up with her friends. However, the young man grasps Cricket’s hand…gently (at first) but firmly holding her at bay on the floor as he speaks, courage bolstered with drink and dance.

“Aww….pay no mind to dat. Someone’s bound to get in a fight around here. They’ll cool off in a minute or two. No reason to have to leave now. Come on…let’s keep dancing.”

Cricket shifts…her attention to the young man before her…and more specifically to the hand that he is refusing to release. “I….I really think you should let me go.” It was spoken not entirely in the tone a Huntress would have used. It was, however, spoken in a tone a princess would…a particularly nervous one, at that.


There had been a corner tugging smile hidden behind that ale of hers when Slug watched Cricket dealing with the request for a dance, and that bit of pink which blossomed as she was whisked off to the dance floor. A place that Slug joined not long after, when she had finally accepted the one request. Whether one know the steps or not, did not seem to matter as much as it did at noble functions. There were not those keeping watch and noting who missed what steps, such levels of gossip and critiquing were not going on. As long as one didn't step on toes, all seemed to be good. A thing one poor lad was finding out about, having stepped upon his partner's toes by the looks of it. For she was limping off the dance floor, after having smacked him for his guffaw.

The tension rising about the one table does catch Slug's attention as well during a turn in the dance. Noting to her partner, "Looks to be trouble." Her own eyes darting to find her two companions in turn. But her attention is quickly returned to her dance partner as he uses the opening to circle an arm about her waist and draw her in for a far more intimate turn on the dance as the peasantry could be known for (and the King and Queen recently performed a version of at their own wedding), "Don't ya worry none, darling. You stay right here and I'll keep ya plenty safe."

With being off the dance floor and having more attention to give to the escalating fight, Freckle will be the first of them to see that cooling off any time soon is not in the cards. Certainly not with how red in the face the man who got hit by the tankard has become. It doesn't help that the man who ducked turns about and starts to laugh. Which soon has him getting hauled up by the shirt front as a fist is pulled back. "Wait..I wasn't the…" The protest rather cut short as that fist slams into with a solid 'crack'. And that is all it takes for the others at the table where the matter first originated to forget what ever insults had been flung moments before to come to the man's aid.

And in turn, the man who ended up with the tankard to the back of the head is given 'back up' from those who were around his table. It is only a matter of moments before fists are flying and other tankards are finding their way being flung or used upon heads, and drawing more of the tavern into fight as it works on becoming an all out brawl. One of those stray tankards ends up flying Freckle's way!

Some folks were already well on their way out the door with the first sign of tension, and more have joined that path in order to avoid any chance of being caught up in the mess. A few actively seek to try and break things up, and end up drawn into the fray. And the barmaids seem to vanish with the fight gaining steam.

That boisterous fellow, and his companions, watches it all unfold. As the fight starts to become a proper brawl, he and his men push up to their feet and start across the dance floor (which is starting to clear) towards the fight. Though he pauses, a hand clamping down upon the lad's shoulder who's got Cricket's hand captured yet, rather like he's about to cut in on 'dance',"I think ya ought to listen ta listen ta the lass." While that lad might gets a no nonsense, downright stern look, Cricket is given a rather wide grin and wink.

With the fight breaking out and seeming to escalate, Slug does try to break away from the lad she had been dancing with. But it seems having been into the cups a bit tonight, he has different ideas. That arm tightens about her waist as he does seem to be leading her off the dance floor, away from the fight. "I should get to my friends," says Slug as she tries to escape that grasp. The tightness deepening at the corners of her eyes. "They're fine, told ya I'd keep ya plenty safe….and ain't no place gonna be safer than my room," a rather smug grin coming. The lad seeming quite oblivious to the fact Slug doesn't seem to think his idea is as grand as he does.

And that boisterous man's men? While it appears on the surface that they have simply joined the fight, a closer watch would see that they are wading in as pairs and working to try and disarm the brawl. And on the musicians play…


Maybe it was that determined manner in which Freckles discarded her dancing partner that left him little room for objection. But, One above, a brawl is the best excuse she could get, to slip away from him. For now, Freckles takes in her surroundings, trying to maintain a cool head as not to allow their little adventure to turn into a rather unpleasant experience. Her hand moves instinctively to the hilt of the dagger in her belt, her posture upright, quick glances here and there checking for the situation as it develops.

Her main focus is on the other patrons first, especially where the fight is about to escalate, and she starts to move already in that direction to get a better view, when a tankard is flung, flying directly towards her. Brows furrow above slightly annoyed looking green eyes as Freckles ducks away, evading the drinking vessel. And while she ponders any further action, and possibilities to stop the brawl by any other means, her fleeting glance catches sight of… Clara. Or Cricket. And Adrienne looks positively startled when she sees that one rather calm individual step up to Cricket and her dancing partner and exchange a few words. She can hardly catch a word of it, but she can see the body language, of the man who had danced with the princess, and the way in which he tries to keep Cricket with him, moving almost a step before her. Adrienne's decision is made, she slips closer, evading more items that are tossed through the air, and soon she appears beside her princess friend.

"Come along, Cricket.", Freckles says with a mien that is stoic apart from that slight flicker in her green eyes. "We should get out of here." A glare she gives Cricket's dancing partner, as if that alone could make him step away from her friend.

At first, there is a hint of panic as Cricket realizes that her dance partner isn’t letting go. There is a couple of tugs on her hand, showing her intent. She simply has to check on her friends…and this man is preventing that. That twinge of panic flares as the boisterous man steps up, to speak…but immediately dissipates as Cricket realizes he is there to help. The younger man actually physically swallows in a moment of trepidation as he releases Cricket’s hand.

“Yeah, okay. No problem. Just wanted to dance…that’s all.”

The younger man makes a show of releasing Cricket’s hand, palms outward as he lifts them up for the older man and Cricket both to see. And…then Freckles comes along and gives him a glare most frightful…enough so that he actually does step away from his dance partner. It must have been a patented Huntress stare, for the young man wants nothing to do with the now trio of people standing on the dance floor as the fight erupts behind them. He mutters a half-heard apology and turns the opposite way, back to whence he came.

Cricket, on the other hand, turns to the older gentleman, for gentleman she sees him to be, and offers her gratitude. “Thank you, kind sir.” The words themselves may not seem out of place…but the way they are spoken might. The inflection and tone given betrays a lifetime of etiquette, as well as the slight way Cricket nods to him….almost as if she stopped herself from doing a curtsy at the last second. Then, she turns to her Huntress companion, nodding lightly. “You’re right….we should.” There is a pause as brown eyes lift up to search the tavern. “Do you see E, err, Slug around here? I lost track when dancing.” Clara almost said Emilia’s name…but caught herself doing so. So, it sounds like she said ‘do you seeeee’ as if she was elongating the word, stalling as she was looking for the other Huntress.

There is concern in Cricket’s voice, clear and viable. She’s never been in a bar-room brawl before…and if one person tried to take advantage of Cricket, then another will try to take advantage of her friend. And One help the man that tries to take advantage of Emilia Cassomir.


Not all managed to deal with the fight breaking out in a calm fashion, nor sought to join in. There were those who grew agitated, if not hysterical at the inherent danger of it all. One such lass had dissolved into hysterics and the man with her was hard pressed to get her anywhere safer given her refusal to move. That is until that mug Freckles managed to duck continues its path and continues on, smack into her head. Shattering upon contact and cutting her current scream right off. Her eyes go rolling back into her head as she goes limp, having been knocked out. The lad taking the opening and scooping her right up and making a beeline right out the door!

The boisterous fellow gives the lad a nod as he does the wise thing and takes his leave. He gives Cricket a smile. Though that apology and the turn of culture and polish that come shining through do earn her a bit of a study by the fellow. An amused spark comes to his eyes at whatever conclusion he reaches. He gives an imaginary hat tip to her,"Twas my pleasure, little miss. Can't have the lads giving us a bad name about here, now can I? Now if ya'll excuse me, seems I got a bit of work to be doing." Giving Cricket another wink before she and Freckles both get a grin. And off he is towards the fight with a harder look taking. Which it does seem his men are making some head way in breaking up…even if only because a few have gotten tossed on out the door and sent packing.

That lad with Slug just might need the Ones help too! "It's just up this a way," the lad looking down to Slug as she tries to squirm out of that hold he has on her. A cock sure grin coming, "And the other lads were sure as rain that you'd not even give up a dance. But now…" His head goes down quite intent on take a kiss, the ale having more than clouded his judgment. The way his hand slides along those leathers gives way to his intent (least for those who might be paying mind this way and not on the fight over yonder), especially with the liberty taken with where it ranges. What exactly transpires in the next few moments is hard to tell for certain, with their heads together as they are and that dancing of shadows from the lanterns that light the inside of the tavern. But what is certain is that his head comes up rather quickly with a bit of a yelp as a hand swings to backhand Slug. While it does make contact, sending her head to the side. Which is soon snapping back and her fist goes sailing in smashing with a rather solid thud into his face and cutting off whatever he'd been about to say. His evening having been upended in a matter of moments, 'having a sure thing' to bewilderment to angry to flight instinct. There is blood on his face, perhaps having split a lip from being punched, hard to tell for certain with his hand in the way. But he is soon enough stumbling away and seeking a hasty retreat from the main room.

Slug had maintained a rather solid and assertive posture even as he'd backhanded her. But moments after he starts his retreat, it all 'deflates' and she takes a stumbling step backwards. A chair is grasped a hold of to lean on a moment. It is but a moment before she is pulling herself back up and turning back to the room. A hand wiping at her mouth, seems the lad wasn't the only one who ended up bloodied in the exchange, as eyes do a semi-frantic dash about the chaotic room to find the others.


Adrienne sees the tankard fly past her and she frowns when she notes where it goes. But the lass who is less lucky (and probably also less perceptive and agile) has already her male company to see to her safety, and so Freckles moves on to Cricket. It seems her glare does the rest to convince the lad that not letting go of Cricket would be quite a bad idea. The gentleman who stepped in gets a curious look, arms crossing before her - but it is clear the brawl is still going on about them and so she will not keep him from doing his work. "Just… what kind of work is that?", Freckles dares to call after him. Her green eyes cut to Cricket and - prompted by the other's remark, she suddenly remembers that she had lost track of Emilia.

Adrienne looks up, sweeping the common room with her gaze, alarm evident in her posture. And spot her she does, early enough to observe the backhanded slap administered to Emilia, and her counter in form of a punch. Exhaling with slight relief, the freckled Cassomir realizes that her cousin has just managed to deal with the situation herself. Even so, Adrienne grabs the hand of the princess, to drag her unceremoniously along to where Emilia is.

"Are you alright?", Adrienne asks her touched cousin, seeing some droplets of blood there at the corner of her mouth. Before she adds, after a few moments: "We should get out of this place."

There might have been a little more of an exchange between gentlemen and Huntresses…but Adrienne’s impromptu leading, with her hand firmly affixed to Clara’s own, prevents that from happening. As it is, the fellow does get another smile before the little Cricket has to turn her head to make sure she knows where she is going. Though..it is short work to get to Emilia, as it seems that Adrienne took the most direct path…which might have resulted in some egos being bruised as the pair of girls shove people to the side. As it is, Clara didn’t catch the attack or the retaliation…but does certainly see the blood upon Emilia. She blinks…then releases Adrienne’s hand to move to Emilia’s side. “What happened?” The words are out of her lips before she could stop them. However…it is Adrienne’s comment of leaving that prompts Clara to not wait for an answer.

Instead, the princess takes action. Scanning the room, Clara spies the exit. She retakes Adrienne’s hand, then takes Emilia’s own and does her own leading, wordlessly pulling the both of them towards the door. There isn’t a sideward glance at the brawl to see if it is being pacified or a check to make sure the two true Huntresses are in line with her thoughts. No…it is an almost immediate exit, though Emilia’s hand receives a gentle squeeze…reassuring her without words that her spirit sister is there and will take care of things. Clara’s own face is a mask of determination, though there is a whirlwind of activity within that mind of hers, first and foremost being ‘get out.’

And…once the trio step back out into the night air, free of the confines of the Kraken’s Roost and out of immediate danger, the hands are released, with Clara immediately turning around to tend to Emilia. Now it is Clara’s turn to fret. “Are you alright? You…you were struck.” Something that was plainly apparent with the red welt upon Emilia’s face. “Do you need anything?” Clara’s questioning is fast…but all points to a single facet. She is worried for her friend. Judging from her own expression, if it wasn’t for the fact that she knew they had to get out of there, Clara might have hunted down and struck Emilia’s assailant herself.


Over the ruckus in the room with the on going fight, the fellow seems to not have caught the question Freckles tossed after him. But it would seem that ‘work’ is bringing order to the chaos. A while the brawl itself might not be fully tended to by the time the girls depart, there is further progress made by him and his men. Sometimes needing to crack a few heads together…literally…before those fighting give it up.

There is relief in seeing Adrienne and Clara coming her way, and perhaps a hint of something else. With the shadows at play in the tavern, her eyes do appear..darker…certainly just a turn of the shadows as they dance with the shifting of flames. She gives Adrienne a nod, an attempt to answer is forestalled a bit. As more blood seeks to spill out when she tries to speak. Turning her head to spit, certainly not the most lady like of things to do. But it does allow her to manage a verbal answer,”Am of fine.”

Just barely with Clara grabbing up her hand and pulling them both on our of the establishment. There were others outside, some doing just the same thing as they were, and making to continue on. There were some picking themselves on up from having been chucked out the door; some of which were debating a return inside or not. One of which may just be stupid enough, or drunk enough, to do just that!

A deep breath is taken of that night air, before Emilia is turning her head to spit again. A bit of a face being made afterwards. The tightens about her eyes is deeper than before. She gives a slight nod to Clara,”,Of aye…he was wishing to take of me to his room…..for safety…..I was not of in agreement.” Another bout of spitting occurs before she adds,” Think I bit my of cheek…perhaps some of wine or tea…” Giving a look to the area and the scattering of folks before she looks back to the two,”Perhaps enough of excitement for of the evening?” Already moving to walk along and see them to the same no matter the answer, not to get caught up with of those being tossed out still looking for a fight (or company).


If Adrienne notices the darker gaze of her touched cousin, it does not strike her as odd, rather attributing it to the poor lighting conditions in the tavern. What she has noted is the fine line of blood trickling from Emilia's corner of the mouth, but being a Huntress, she will not start fretting overtly over such when Emilia seems to be more or less hale and whole presently. A nod comes to Emilia's reply, Adrienne's head turning just so as to scan the situation about them - until her hand is grabbed by Clara, who drags the two Cassomirs towards the exit. Not objecting, but following along - after all, it had been her own suggestion to leave the place? - Adrienne keeps an eye on their surroundings, even when they arrive outside, in the slightly chilly air of a late spring evening.

Green eyes dart from Clara to Emilia, Adrienne shifting in her stance as she waits for the latter to reply to the former's questions, the sobering chill enough to get her back to the ways of Huntress efficiency, to talk only when there is need for it. Right now, she is waiting and listening. Her eyes widen in the way of a glare, when the touched Cassomir discloses what let to her being struck, one corner of her mouth lifting into a grim half-smile. "Safety, hmm? Seems he wasn't taking a 'no' well, that bastard." Her hand is extended and placed on Emilia's upper arm. "But it seems you drove him off just fine." She straightens, her head turning to regard Clara Tracano. "I would think so.", Adrienne agrees then with Emilia's suggestion of calling it a night, even if her eyes linger on the princess pixie.

There may be no mention from the princess in regards to darkening eyes. Surely Clara didn’t notice, for she didn’t act on it. But…perhaps, just perhaps, she did. It would explain her sudden and immediate exit of the tavern, with both Cassomirs in tow. Still…there is no mentioning of anything peculiar, not even one of those infamous Clara piercing gazes that try to read one’s soul. The answer from Emilia is taken at face value, for all appearances, as Clara’s eyes shift up, turning to the door and the steady stream of patrons…some fleeing the fight and some still wanting to fight. “I am glad you was able to defend yourself. It…seems that is another thing I need to learn yet.” In addition to the stealth. Oh, that will be an odd request in the future…to learn unarmed combat for a royal who shouldn’t need it.

The mention of returning, even indirectly, is greeted with an affirmative nod. Not that it matters, as Emilia resumes taking the lead, taking the two others with her back towards familiar streets…and a familiar tree. “Yes, I think our incognito visit to the Market can happen another time. We must get you back and check on you…as well as determine a way to hide that bruise upon your cheek.” And, in spite of the danger they just experienced, a wry little grin pulls at the corners of the undercover princess. “It is about time we moved on from dresses and discuss a little matter of cosmetics, anyways.” There is a muffled chuckle, from Clara, as the three make their way back. After all, Clara is set to spend the night at the Manse….and they have to do something to cover for their time. And Emilia thought dresses were bad…

But, in order to do that, the trio needs to face the gauntlet once more. Scampering up trees, across rooftops, and avoiding patrols. They did it once before….surely they can do it again. Otherwise, there is going to be a lot of explaining to do.

A lot of explaining.

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