The Green and The Green (Dragonsong!) [m]

[DaGlobster]

And just as Motark was settling back down from her first surprise, she was coming back in for more! This time, her hands were on his scalp, and he didn't find that as objectionable.

"Ever since I was born, not a single hair has grown on me. Anywhere," he said, eyes rolling up to look at her as she looked at him. And with her so close to him like this, his curiosity overtook him and they wandered down about halfway down her body before he stopped himself and focused on looking up at her antlers.

[DragonSong]

Fiala's mouth curved up at the corners and she rubbed her palms over his scalp. It was rather fascinating; most of the animals she interacted with had fur or hair of some kinda, and even those that were hairless often had pebbled skin or scales instead.

"Oh." Eyes widening slightly, she sat back and picked up the flask again, turning it over in her hands. "I forgot." She held it back out to him. "You want this, yes?"

[DaGlobster]

Motark laughed.

"You're the one who wanted it, but then got distracted," he said, and he put a finger against the flask and pushed it so that it was against her.

"Or did you forget?"

[DragonSong]

"Ah. Yes."

She hadn't forgotten, but she'd sort of been hoping that he had. She was a little leery of trying the brew, but didn't want to back down in front of him. This felt like a challenge now.

Warily, Fiala lifted the flask to her nose and took a sniff. Her whole face scrunched up and she jerked back, mouth open slightly as she drew in a sharp breath of fresh air. "You drink this?"

[DaGlobster]

"I do," Motark said.

He'd called it potato brew and honey, but in all fairness that was the layman's way of describing it. Motark didn't know much about the drink past that, just that the druids knew how to brew it for the scouts. What he referred to as "potato brew" was actually something that was in between and ale and a hard liquor. The rest was a  mix of honey, herbs, and a dash of druidic magic.

it was a demi-magical brew that smelled strong and sweet, brewed for an earthy, sweet flavor and almost no bite at all.

"Many orcs love it, myself included. I've seen honor duels over spilled bottles of this brew."

[DragonSong]

Fiala sniffed the drink again, and again she crinkled her nose up at the strength of the scent. Giving the orc a wary look, she lifted the flask to her lips and sipped cautiously.

"Oh." She blinked and looked down at it. "That's...not bad, actually."

[DaGlobster]

"Not bad at all," he repeated with a wider smile, and he reached over to take the flask back for a moment to satisfy his own thirst before he held it back out to her.

"Did you think I was going to poison you?"

[DragonSong]

She gave him a very droll stare. "I doubt you could," she responded as she took the flask again. "I do not believe mortal toxins would harm me."

Well, most of them. And not in the same way they would someone who wasn't fae, certainly.

She sipped, a little longer this time, and held it back out to Motark. A strange ritual, but rather...satisfying. Sip, pass, talk. It was almost quaint.

"How far a journey did you make to come to these woods?" she asked, eyes glinting in the glow of the campfire.

[DaGlobster]

Her stern response caused him to chuckle, and he spoke as she drank. "That's impressive," he commented, leaning more against the log and stretching out.

When she passed it to him, he smiled a little wider, happy to see that she picked up on things quickly.

He took it with a grateful nod and swigged a little heavier from it. Figuring it was safe to get a little buzzed if she was drinking too.

He mused that she probably wasn't used to alcohol either.

"It was a day's travel. I'll likely leave by tomorrow night," Motark said.

He held out the flask for her.

[DragonSong]

Taking it once more, Fiala found herself sniffing the lip of the flask again before she drank. Almost despite herself, the smell was growing on her-- she still wasn't sure that she liked it, but it was rather fascinating, trying to sort through the myriad of ingredients.

And the honey was just intoxicating. She knew Lakali kept bees on the mortal side of the Glade, but she had only tasted honey once or twice in her life. It was quite nice.

"Will you ever return?" she asked as she passed the brew back.

[DaGlobster]

"Perhaps," Motark answered, taking the brew but not drinking from it just yet.

"I have responsibilities, but the deepness of these woods is so intriguing to me," he said, looking out into the nighttime glades. His riding boar was still out there, but Motark knew the beast could handle itself. He didn't want to risk bringing it into the woods when he didn't know what was inside.

Then, he looked to Fiala, offering her a smile before drinking deeply of the brew. He held it back out to her.

"And the people that live in it have only made my curiosity stronger,"

[DragonSong]

Fiala smirked before taking a swig, savoring the sweetness on her tongue. "You still seem to assume I live here," she noted almost playfully as she handed the flask back to him.

With a sigh, she leaned back against the log he was using as a bench and let her head tip back, staring up through the canopy at the patches of starlight she could make out.

"Perhaps I am wandering," she mused softly. "Perhaps my home is far away, and so painfully dull that I have set out to experience something new."

[DaGlobster]

Motark hummed thoughtfully at that.

"That sounds like truth to me," he said, looking down at her. Watching the stars reflected in those large eyes of hers.

"But out in the green, you're free, aren't you?"

He accepted the flask, and drank. He wiped off his lips with a forearm and sighed, breath heavy with the smell of honey. He held it down for her.

"Or do you have to make up excuses to leave home too?"

[DragonSong]

"Free." Fiala turned the word over in her mouth slowly, carefully, tasting it before she allowed it to become sound. "Was I not before? Am I now?"

She shrugged and took the flask, taking a long swig this time. A delicate shudder ran down her spine and she drew in a sharp breath as she let her hands fall into her lap, her eyes sliding closed. Her head was beginning to buzz pleasantly.

Hm. Perhaps this was why Lakali did not like her consuming honey...

"I am beholden to none, not the way you are," she answered Motark after a moment. "I need make no excuses to do as I wish, save to myself."

[DaGlobster]

"I get that," Motark said.

He wanted to rest his back, so he slid down so he could rest his back against the log.

"D you eat meat?" he asked, purely out of curiosity.

[DragonSong]

She twisted to better face him, sitting with her legs splayed out to the side, haphazard but somehow elegant at the same time.

"I have, once or twice," she replied easily. "I do not prefer it though. It is not sweet enough for my tastes."

[DaGlobster]

"Ah, a sweet tooth. I ask because I have dried meats in my pack. In case you were hungry," Motark said, feeling the brew in his head as he inspected her, finding details to latch onto like how her legs turned to hooves at the end or how she seemed to have both the skin of a human and a deer...

He met her eyes again, then they wandered a little upwards.

"I've never met anyone with antlers before," he noted, leaning a bit closer to inspect how the gold threaded through them.

"They look sturdy," he commented.

[DragonSong]

"And I have never met anyone without antlers," Fiala replied with a wink and a small giggle.

Hm. Giggling. That was a bit odd.

"I thought at first you must be in the middle of a shed— that's awfully silly of males, don't you think? To lose their sign of virility and protection annually. Now we females keep our antlers year-round, yet ours are not nearly as prized!"

She frowned at him as though she was trying to work through a difficult puzzle. "Mine are quite strong, too. And pretty, aren't they?" She twisted her head back and forth so the firelight could catch the threads of gold through the mahogany.

[DaGlobster]

Appreciatively, he followed her antlers as she twisted her head about, watching the glimmering threads with a growing smile.

"They're really impressive," Motark admitted, and then motioned to his own face.

"For Orcs it's all about the tusks. Good thing we don't shed those, though," he said with a shudder.

He motioned to her lap.

"Are you going to drink, or just hold it?" he asked, buzzed enough to be a little bold with her.

[DragonSong]

"Mm? Oh." She looked down at the flask as though she'd forgotten she was still holding it, then shrugged and took another quick gulp before she passed it back.

"Thank you," she told him belatedly for the compliment. Then she frowned abruptly and twisted to eye him almost warily. "Assuming you mean it. Mortals can be tricky that way."