Not Drunk Yet [M]

[Lowen Thorn]

Amaya was fucked out of his skull.

Yet, somehow through some sort of miracle or the blessing of the gods, he followed along with the woman and her dance brilliantly, appearing to be an expert to all the other onlookers in the room (that didn't exist). It was like they were in some sort of tavern-turned-club, jazzing about the room as drunken patrons cheered their name. 'That's it Amaya!' one man yelled out in encouragement. 'You're doing great!'

'Dance with me next, bounty hunter!' an imagined woman swooned from the bar.

He grinned as they danced for what felt like hours, when in all it were probably closer to a minute and a half. Earlier that night, he really hated this woman. Now, he felt like he loved her. For that night, at least.

"I'll take all the lessons I can get," he said absently as he stared at the pretty circle on the wall.

[Remi]

The last time Remi had gotten even close to being this fucked up, she and a couple of "friends" (who the fuck was she kidding? They'd been drunks, in some rat-infested little tavern with creaky floorboards, a roof that leaked and molded, wet rushes on the floor; a shitty little place with even shittier drinks, but it'd been in the middle of nowhere) had robbed and demolished a dry-goods store and set fire to a blacksmith's shop;  she'd made a "gown" from a moth-eaten curtain, proudly proclaimed herself the fucking queen of everything and everyone. Everything else had been a blur and she'd ended up waking up the next evening in a bed that wasn't hers, with two other women and a man- none of which she'd even known. Needless to say, that had been a gods-damned splendid two evenings.

And tonight was going even more fantastically than that memory had. Amaya had followed along with her perfectly; not fumbling a single step as the crowd went fucking wild, cheering, shrieking their names; the patrons were throwing money their way with wild abandon- and a few of them were even stripping, tossing random articles of clothing at the dancers, begging for a turn with one or the other. "Gods, Rephaine!" A couple of swooning kobolds cried out, "You two are the greatest things to ever live!" A noble decked out in impossible, infathomable wealth turned and begged: "Remi, I'm yours!" (What a gods-damned shame that it was nothing more than hallucinations.)

That stupid grin remained plastered across her face as she tilted her head back, watching the "starbursts" grow in number. There was no way to deny that earlier that evening, she had despised the bounty hunter; but now, she was doing something incredibly stupid: she was falling hard and fast for him; well, at least for now.

"Alright! Keep up, now!" She purred, gesturing at the imaginary "band"; which of course knew exactly what to play: the lights were dimmed even further as the imaginary drummer picked up the pace, pounding out a primal rhythm; soon to be joined by the slow, aching drone of a set of pipes and an ethereal, fragile dulcimer. (There was no music.)

The next dance would start somewhat slowly; with swaying hips and mincing steps, light, teasing, ghostly touches delivered with her fingertips, aimed to taunt and tease Amaya; though she picked up the pace quite quickly, with a quick pirouette that would swallow the distance between them; her movements more forceful, far quicker than during the waltz, she'd grab the bounty hunter's hands and place them low on her hips as her own would continue their teasing, taunting caresses. Without a word of warning, she would set a quick, demanding pace; hauling Amaya even closer, into one of those "brutal" exotic dances: all writhing, undulating, almost serpentine movements and quick, punishingly graceful footwork, paired with devilishly promising, slow caresses and shimmies, swift twirls, playful shoves and even more mischievous groping: a bellydance meant for two, rather than a single performer; extremely easy to get lost in and add to;  at some point during the dance, her shirt had somehow found its way off and was instead in her hand, playfully being used as a whip, a prop (like how a fan or scarf should have been used instead.) When it ended, it felt as though that performance had lasted an entire lifetime, though in reality, it had only been around three minutes or so.

[Lowen Thorn]

Whoa.

What was happening?

The crowd was in an absolute uproar, the dancing was exotic and fluent, and the times were good. He blinked and the once alley cat-looking woman suddenly became a fucking Princess of sorts, and he was dancing his way up to be her Prince.

And what was this?

The music slowed down (in his mind), but she sped up. Brilliant! Nothing like a quick round of speed dancing to slow, sensual grooves, and he was going to give it all he had. His hands struggled to find a proper place to rest as the woman moved in alluring and almost teasing motions.

"Oh let me help you with that," he noticed her shirt dangling in a way that didn't seem proper. Instead of finagling it back onto her, he ripped from her and placed it on top of her head and some sort of hat.

Keep dancing.

When they were done, he blinked in astonishment. Somehow, over the course of the night, the woman went from the biggest pain in his ass to something of fascination. He was enchanted, mesmerized, infactuated.

"If yer' tryin seduce me," he said with lazy eyes, his hand reaching for a bottle of drink - it didn't matter, how much, or if the bottle was empty - and turning it upside down to empty as much as he possibly could into his mouth in one go. "It's working."

[Remi]

Under other circumstances, she would have definitely wondered what the fuck was going on right now-- but there was no point in anything as stupid as that.

The crowd's cheering and stomping had reached such a crescendo that was almost deafening; someone had started throwing rose petals their way as their dance had continued- had she not had to breathe, she would have kept going for eternity; keeping her King and their loyal subjects entertained until everything simply winked out of existence.

A useless scrap of cloth (probably a fan of some sort, in her mind at least) had been torn from her hand and discarded, only to be replaced by her crown; its veil (her sleeves) hanging elegantly down the back of her neck as they continued to dance; a shower of multi-colored rose petals raining down around them when it came to an end.

She shook her head in wonder, puzzling over something for a few moments.  Remi couldn't comprehend how the man had gone from being something of an unexpected rival -and someone she wouldn't have minded pummeling into oblivion- into someone incredibly intriguing, compelling and more than worth keeping around. Gods dammit; fuck everything, he'd completely won her over- that's all there was to it.

"Then my work's done," She purred with a coy wink, leaning down to retrieve that bottle of damnably sweet swill; not giving a damn about how disgusting it was, she'd wrench it open and basically just inhale the liquor for a few seconds, fumbling to set it back on the table. Another stroke of genius filled her mind: reaching into her almost completely empty drug pouch, she retrieved the last one she had at the moment: a fist-sized, rather thick, relatively fresh leaf. She'd stick the pointy end in her mouth and bite down on it; bittersweet violet juices flowing over her tongue and down her throat, dribbling to decorate her lower jaw and throat in liquid amethyst (it would just be a narcotic sap stain come morning.) "If you want some, have at you!" She'd giggle coyly around the leaf, fully intending on leading him into a game of "chase," and "keep away,"  but for some reason, her feet didn't really want to move very much.

[Lowen Thorn]

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Amaya lunged forward and picked the woman up without hestitation, and without warning, and slung her playfully over his shoulder as he stomped around the room looking for just the right spot. He wasn't shy by any means of the imagination, but he certainly was gentlemanly, or felt gentlemanly, enough to not steal her innocence in front of all of these people.

But they were cheering him on, and he gave a young boy a thumbs up as he paraded down the hall of the little shop, Remi strapped onto his shoulder and feeling like a fucking god.

Where's this door lead?

Without thinking, Amaya kicked in the door at the end of the hall in to reveal what looked like some sort of guest room. This will do, he thought, as he dropped her down onto what appeared to be a bed (it wasn't).  With a hungry grin, he started clawing at her leggings. "Help me get these rags off you," he said almost mindlessly.



Fuck that damn bounty hunter, and fuck that damn cunt that was with him. Red was stalking through the streets after escaping Amaya's grasp, balls sore as hell from that little witch's cheap shot.

Not only that, but he was drunk again, and he needed a little money.

'Most of the shops will be closed now. I'll just bust in and take whatever I can find,' was the dumb thought that glided through Red's head.

[Remi]

"I'd hope not," She teased, giggling and accidentally spitting her leaf out as she was quickly and without warning hoisted over Amaya's shoulder; watching the crowd scramble like dogs after a scrap to fight over that leaf, offering a playful (and entirely fucked-up) noble salute to a group of women that clapped and whistled loudly as she was carted off toward their "royal chambers."

She laughed as the door she hadn't bothered to open earlier swung open and she was deposited on what looked like an extremely luxurious bed draped in furs. (It might possibly have been a cot- or maybe even a pile of raggedy blankets on the floor.)

She didn't have to be asked twice; sitting up, she'd quickly unwind her whip from around her waist,sending those pouches and her daggers skittering across the floor; she didn't think they were anything worth looking for, quickly unlacing her leggings and wiggling out of them; clad only in an ornate feather-trimmed leather corset and long, lacy stockings held up with garters (she wasn't; Remi's didn't even own a corset) she reclined back onto the "bed," coiling her whip around one of her ankles so she didn't lose it, tugging Amaya down with her and whispering, "You're still wearing far too much."

---------------------

Out on the streets below, a mangy, long-furred mongrel with numerous scars followed after the drunk, tail tentatively wagging as it whimpered and snorted; hoping to either be given a few scraps, or to follow him to a tavern where it could wait and beg. It was still quite nervous around people, but just smart enough to know that most of them didn't usually mind having it around,  as long as it didn't do anything to draw too much attention to itself.

[Lowen Thorn]

What a blessing to find such a luxurious bed in a place like this, in a time like this! Truly the gods were blessing him and his growing desires as he helped he woman out of her clothes.

It was a table. An old, not-so-sturdy wooden table that may not last much longer at the rate they were going. He grinned sneakily, and went to remove the shirt that was no longer on him. He had forgotten that he ripped it off the moment he dropped her onto the "bed." No matter, one less thing to get out of.

It was only a second or two before he was out of his pants (wherein reality, it took him a long minute of struggling), and he grabbed the woman's legs and drug her closer to his waist, finagling himself for a moment until he made a connection with what he was positive was the inside of her.

Hallelujah.



"Eenie, meenie, miney, mo," Red grumbled a drunken slur. "Which shop here will Red done robbed."

His rhyming was atrocious, and so was his breath. Luckily for everyone, no one was around. He scanned the alley briefly, biting his lip as he contemplated which shop he would hit.

[Remi]

There was just no way that she could have begun to count her blessings; after all, the pair must have done something incredibly right, for the gods had damn sure been showering them in wealth, lurxury and anything else they might have wanted. Remi would have to remind herself to visit the in-palace temple and thank them for their favor and everything else. (There was no such palace or temple. Most gods didn't walk with mortals. More importantly, Remi was something of a blasphemer.)

An old rickety table was definitely close enough to being a bed. Though based on its creaking and groaning, it was something of a miracle that it was still standing- at least for now. Remi would prove that though she was definitely not a gentle fuck, she was damn sure creative- and that her flexibility translated very well as far more than just a dancer or while fighting; capable of pulling off some rather interesting contortions.

The gods were singing.

--------

The poor stray had no idea what Red was saying- not that such a thing mattered at all; it was just trailing along at a distance, its whining slowly but steadily becoming yapping barks.

((Haha, the dog's just there to piss Red off. XP))

[Lowen Thorn]

Passion was not one of Amaya's strong suits, but fucking like some sort of wild animal who didn't know where its next meal was coming from was; and he found himself in that exact position. He couldn't recall the last time he had gotten his fix: a week, two weeks, a year (though in all likelihood it was just a night or two ago. He did get around, after all.)

In and out he went inside the strange, unfamiliar goddess, the wooden table beneath her back rattling with each new powerful thrust of his hips. At that point, one couldn't be sure how he had even met such a wonderful woman, but one didn't give a shit either.

Something about it felt so wrong but so right as his drunken stamina worked in his favor, panting in controlled breaths as he delivered what he believed to be his greatest performance. The greatest performance of his generation. The greatest performance of all fucking time.

It was the most focused he had been the entire night.



"Gods damn dog," Red huffed while whirling his arms around. "Go away! Shoo!"

The stray continued to bark at him with eyes that said 'Pay attention to me!' but the large oaf of a man didn't want any part of it. "Ya blow my cover," he slurred, spitting in its general direction. "Just a dead dog, that's what you are."

Oh, what was he doing?

Right. He needed some quick coin, and no one seemed to have noticed him yet by some incredible feat. Turning around, he was face to face with the front door of what appeared to be a general shop.

[Remi]

Thankfully, Remi wasn't one of those women who put stock into anything such as passion or other foolish notions; rather, fucking like some beast was her style- and it seemed as though her efforts were definitely well worth it. She was fairly certain the last time she'd rutted was within the last decade (though that wasn't true at all. Remi had no problem with jumping or being jumped by anyone that caught her interest- and she'd fucked the brains out of the first mate and captain of the pirate ship she'd boarded earlier that afternoon; taking a turn or three with their two pretty wenches as they'd arrived, as well.)

The table beneath her threatened to collapse more than once as she met his powerful thrusts; vicious, desperate and ravenous, an insatiable beast that might have even dug teeth and nails possibly a bit too deeply into Amaya's skin. The sheer wrongness of it only made everything all the more right -it was probably extremely taboo to fuck a god, after all- and for a few moments, she had to question herself about when and how she'd met such an incredible deity in human form; but that wasn't anything worth giving much, if any consideration to.

Her typical endurance, combined with drug-and-booze-filled frenzy only continued to push her onward; giving just as good as she got- and it was paying off magnificently; pouring all of that excess energy into what she hoped would be an extremely memorable experience. At some point -she couldn't remember exactly when- it seemed to her as though their bed had fallen away, that they were simply floating mid-air, held aloft by an infathomable, divine force. (Of course, they weren't. The table had finally given out beneath her.)

---

As Red yelled at the dog, it only cocked its head and kept barking, wagging its tail frantically and even bouncing on its paws in an attempt to seem more appealing. When he spit at it, it hopped backward a few feet, though would rush forward again to join him beside the door, lifting a rather large paw and scratching at the wood.

[Lowen Thorn]

Fuck.

She felt absolutely amazing. He could go like that all day, and did his best to as he picked up both speed and power, his waist moving back and forth in intense motions between her parted legs. What a world to be living in.

Crack!

The table collapsed from under them, and he slipped out of her as she traveled with the broken surface. Being completely thrown off balance, he tumbled forward, giving her a brief, potentially unflattering angle of little Amaya and the boys before his own face made acquaintances with the floor.

"Shit," he grumbled before quickly making his way back to his feet. "Even a bed meant for the gods couldn't contain us," he huffed as he helped the woman back up. He went to place her back on the bed, but quickly realized it was still broken for some reason, so instead he turned her away from him, pushing her against the wall with an aggressive slap on the ass before taking her from behind.

Oh boy. Now we're talking.

That was the thoughts that ran through the bounty hunter's head as he pulled her hair back, slugging away like some sort of beast fresh from hell, with the sounds of their skin colliding with each other only feeding his hunger further and driving him wild.

Then, the sound of a door crashing open rang out from the other room, but Amaya sure as shit didn't hear it.

[Remi]

Son of a bitch! She was having the most incredible time of her life and never wanted it to end; he felt perfect and she'd have been more than willing to go at it for the next couple of days. Now, that was a plan she could get behind: bar the windows, lock the door and just devour him for as long as inhumanly possible; with a casual disregard for anything like stopping for rest or sustenance- they didn't need shit like that, anyway!

She giggled breathlessly as she slipped out of his grasp and gravity took its hold, sending her crashing to the ground and him tumbling down as well; "Well, fuck the shitty designers here!" Why had they assumed that a gilded bed meant for gods would be able to withstand them? That meant they were something even greater than mere gods; perhaps they'd transcended everything and were actually the king and queen of all the deities. That was the only thing that would have made sense. "They'll make us a new one!"

At some point during the mishap, her whip had found its way free of her ankles and had draped itself over her shoulders (it hadn't; she'd moved it so it wouldn't have ended up lost in the rubble) and she couldn't understand how or why their bed hadn't just put itself together, like it was supposed to have. But that was of no consequences.

She'd groan and laugh as Amaya turned her away; growling in approval when he pushed her into the wall and slapped her ass, offering no complaints when he took her from behind; Don't stop now, we're just getting started! Was the extent of the healer's fleeting thoughts as her hair was pulled; head tilting backward so she could drag tongue and teeth along the bounty hunter's throat; biting, nipping, that rumbling sound rising in her throat. The sounds of skin slapping and colliding viciously did nothing to satiate her lust; nor did the hellish, violent pace that they were setting; she'd rock and slam backward even harder against Amaya, bracing both hands and one foot against the wall; using those extremeties to help increase her force.

Though she did hear the sound of the door opening, she simply disregarded it as being nothing more than the "castle" settling, nothing worth paying attention to at all.

[Lowen Thorn]

Red stumbled into the house with a drunken smile before his knees gave out without warning and he toppled to the ground. "Sonofabitch," he slurred as he tried to get to his feet. It was to no avail, however, because as soon as he began to get up, using his arms as leverage, his elbows gave out as well and he was back on the ground.

He would repeat this struggle against himself for an embarrassingly long time, perhaps five or so minutes, before finally making it back to his feet with a sense of false accomplishment and the look of a smug idiot.

He was so involved in the process that he didn't register the sound coming from the other room. Was someone clapping in there? It was a very consistent clap, but he paid it no mind. Probably nothing to be concerned with.

He rifled clumsily through the shop until he found them: Amaya and Remi, fucking each others brains out like some sort of animal-frenzied ritual.

Amaya looked over to the man that just entered the room, still steadily pumping Remi with his flesh as a little grin crept up into his lips. "Oh, hey Red," Amaya said through a pant, winking at him as he punished the woman for alluring him to the point of explosion. "Get comfortable, this will take a while. I'll have that bounty when I'm done here."

Red stood there, absolutely dumbfounded, and didn't notice when the little stray hiked its leg up and pissed on his boot.

[Remi]

The sound of stumbling footsteps caught her attention for a moment; long enough for her to glance toward the door as Red stumbled in, tossing a wink in his direction as she gladly accepted the punishment that Amaya dealt and delivering her own in turn for him daring to ensorcel her the way he had. "Yeah," The word was a breathless part moan, part growl, "Find yourself something to eat, get make yourself to home. We'll be done in a few days, then I'll kill you."

There was something probably unsettling with how casual that death threat sounded, despite the lewd noises she was making; the thought of having an audience only caused her to redouble her efforts, If he wants a show, I'll give the bastard one! Be the last thing he sees, anyway.[/b] No one had ever said Remi had any sense of shame and there was no reason for her to get one now;  hammering and arching back against Amaya with a renewed strength and vigor; giving a new meaning to the terms "contortionist" and "succubus," her attention once again focused solely on Amaya. She wouldn't have given a shit if the entire city had filed into the room to watch their brutal, primal performance; which could have been its own form of art.

[Lowen Thorn]

Just as soon as he noticed Red, he completely forgot he was there, and continued to do the good work of the gods to serve the woman he worked so delicately from her backside. In reality, he was probably bruises her knees as he continued to thrust her into the wall, relishing in the madness of the sudden but what felt like urgent fuck. Slapping skin, groans, growls, and muffled hums of pleasure were accompanied by the sound of the crowd that just re-entered the room. 'Faster Amaya, faster! She's begging for it!' said one man without a face. 'I've never seen anything so astounding in my life!' a small kitten with a stylish-looking fedora and standing on its hind legs cheered.

He leaned forward and nibbled at her ear, breathing heavily into it before averting his eyes and spotting his old bounty target.

"Oh, hey Red," he said again, completely forgetting he was ever there. "May as well make yourself at home. I'm kinda busy at the moment. But you can watch with everyone else if you're looking for pointers."

Red looked upon them, mouth agape, with clenched fist. He'd seen enough, and charged with drunken fury in their direction.

[Remi]

It seemed as though Red had simply led the demanding, clammoring crowd to them; which wasn't exactly something to get pissed over; not when everyone was cheering, stomping their feet, paws, or in the case of a couple of demons, hooves; young and old alike, from the wealthiest sons of bitches alive to the lowliest of scullery maids and everything in-between, including a winged goat, a few harpies and even a siren floating in a bubble, had arrived. Red just sort of faded into that crowd as Remi continued to carry out the will of both the divine and the infernal: to incredibly tenderly guide the man past the realm of mortals, even beyond the realm of the gods. It was a matter of life-or-death.

Though in all actuality, she had probably scratched and bitten Amaya until he bled from a few different places. Her knees were bruised, she was a little scraped up from being knocked into the wall, probably had a couple of splinters somewhere, as well. But there was no denying the animalistic urgency of the fuck; skin slapping together and beating off the wall, muttered profanities and wanton moans, vicious growls coupling with purrs and hums set an angelic choir to play, accompanied by the crowd's voices. "Come on, Remi! Give him your worst!" A two-headed ogre woman bellowed. "Why did we never hire you two before?" A rabbit in a foppish overcoat lamented. "We're your students! Teach us everything you know!" Came the cry of an over-eager pair of snakelike twins.

Remi groaned lowly in her throat; skin shivering deliciously as she leaned back as far as she could again, slowly trailing her tongue across Amaya's collarbone and a bit lower; only catching Red again from the corner of her eyes in that strange position.

"Yeah, we're teaching--" That amiable-enough explanation was cut short as Red charged at them. As she lifted her head again, rage warred with lust for supremacy; she wasn't entirely certain if Red's first blow had hit either her or Amaya -at least she didn't feel anything remotely like a punch, just yet- but she'd be damned if she was going to let anything of the sort happen. "Find someone in the crowd to fuck," She spat at the poor drunkard, "This one's mine!" When had she become that gods-damned possessive? She had no idea- and it probably didn't matter, anyway.

Without stopping the rhythm, she reached up and slid the whip from her shoulders, flicking her wrist sharply and aiming to crack its tongue across Red's face.

[Lowen Thorn]

Red's fist made direct impact with Amaya's jaw, and suddenly reality came rushing back in. He blinked, not noticing Remi's whip retort, and slowly glanced around. They were in the shop still. He was... naked. He was also...

Oh gods.

Down a couple of bottles of whiskey and rum and eat a handful of narcotics and all of a sudden it's just okay to fuck anything with two legs and an ass. What was he thinking? When he had met the woman, he couldn't wait to get her out of his sights, and now this?! How long had they been going at it, anyway? By the throbbing sensation in his little soldier, just long enough for him to have more work to do.

Fuck it.

He slipped away from the woman and turned to Red. Then, still very much in the nude, he threw a quick fist at the man and it crashed into his nose. You could almost hear the bone break as Red howled out in agony, stumbling backwards like the overgrown shithead he was. Without hesitation, the bounty hunter took a step to him, winded up for the impact, and kicked him square in the balls.

Poor Red. It just wasn't his day. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

[Remi]

The rush of adrenaline flowing through her veins cleared Remi's head quite nicely; not even a dull fog remaining. Unfortunately, that meant she was looking around the shop in a puzzled manner, eyes narrowing dangerously as they flickered from Red, to Amaya and back again.

"Ah, shit!" Such an incredibly eloquent statement that was, especially when she realized she was naked. Sure, there was no harm in getting shitfaced drunk, devouring drugs like they were exceptionally rare and then fucking- but son of a bitch!

Had she been thinking at all? Apparently not. Judging from how badly she ached everywhere, the large bruises standing out rather remarkably against her already particolored skin, they'd probably gone at it for one hell of a long time. She'd absolutely fucking despised the man when they'd first met-- and now, what? She'd heard of keeping her enemies close, but "fuck your rival gods-damned senseless" was a new low, even for her.

"Fuck everything!"  That was neither a hopeless cry nor a half-assed grumble, but a full-on fucking battle cry when she realized that, for some horribly masochistic reason, she'd actually winced. In gods-damned sympathy, no less, when Red punched Amaya in the face. What in the ever-living blue fuck was wrong with everything?

Fuck both of you, fuck this stupid little shop, fuck the drugs, the booze, all the gods and demons, that dumb little dog in the corner, but most of all, fuck thinking!  Not giving a shit, she just sauntered right up to the poor, unsuspecting fool that had just been savagely kicked in the balls  and dropped by the bounty hunter, Remi strode up to poor Red's fallen form and without warning, not only did she cock her leg back and ram her own knee into his balls three times in quick succession, then she'd follow that up by actually thinking. For the moment. Moving quickly, she would bind Red's wrists together with her whip, taking great satisfaction in jerking and twisting the whip as tightly as she possibly could. This time, if everything went well, he wasn't going to get away. And she did it while still naked.

It wouldn't have been surprising at all if poor Red had no fucking idea what was going on, had he still been capable of thinking.

[Lowen Thorn]

The bounty hunter watched in amusement as Remi delivered a few more cruel blows to both his body and his ego, a smirk on his lips as he stood there completely unclothed. "Hey there, little guy," he said walking over and kneeling next to the dog as the woman beat the ogre into utter unconsciousness. "Thanks for bringing my bounty to me."

He stood back up when the head rush hit him. Fuck. He felt like he was going to die, his head throbbing, his stomach churning, and his vision blurring. He'd be better off to down a few more bottles of rum, eat a handful of berries, and sleep it off.

Peering down below his torso, he sighed. There was also this problem to deal with, he thought before glancing back over at Remi.

"Are you done?" he asked, amused through the agony. "I think you got'em."

[Remi]

Remi was fairly certain that whatever gods and demons might have existed were definitely out to get her; swaying momentarily on her feet as the first muscle tremor coursed its way along her spine. Rather than stopping, she grit her teeth, hauled off and delivered a couple of quick, sharp punches to Red's gut for good measure. The poor ogre would probably be mighty pissed whenever he was able to recover from the beating.

She rocked forward briefly on her feet, managing to catch herself before she dropped to her knees; groaning as the room began to tilt and sway again, she shook her head and allowed her eyes to close momentarily, pretty certain that whatever gods and demons that might have existed certainly had it out for her. Between the white-hot pain that lanced through the center of her skull, the painfully dry throat and desire to just lay down, let the floor open up and swallow her whole, there were other things to attend to.

Such as preparing a hangover remedy, finding a few dozen more bottles of whiskey to down, completely depleting her dwindling drug stash (only the absolute best was left after all- and there was no time like the present to get started on a real mind-fuck of massive proportions) and dealing with other needs. "Yeah," She stepped away from Red at last, glancing over at Amaya as she set about gathering her pouches; stumbling around a bit as she retrieved the two most important ones: her damn-near empty drug pouch and the much heavier one full of medicinal herbs, There's... more important shit to do right now, anyway."

With an entertained little smirk, she dug through the medicinal herbs frantically, almost desperately; finally retrieving a small, carefully-wrapped satchel of dried, powdered herbs, mushrooms and flowers. Another desperate lunge as her stomach lurched had her tumbling head-over-heels as she retrieved her liquor flask; opening it quickly and adding the herbal concoction to... she couldn't fucking remember if it was wine, whiskey, water or orc piss in that flask... she'd shake the quickly-concocted remedy and down half the flask before offering it to the bounty hunter, "I won't lie... it burns like hell going down and tastes like death, but it'll keep you from dying... and I've been savin' the best shit for last." That was panted as she got back to her feet again, offering the bounty hunter the extremely light drug pouch.

The little dog's tail swayed hopefully as it crept slowly toward Amaya, ears perked and paws dancing. It was still a little on the cautious side, but it was curious and knew the difference between being yelled at and scolded, at the very least.