10.07.3013: The Kraken Dowry
Summary: Ephraim and Nitrim finally meet, discussing the proper forms of address for scoundrels. Ephraim gives his blessing to the relationship.
Date: Wednesday, September 18th 2013
Related: Seeking Allies, Joint Treehouse Custody
Cyrielle Ephraim Nitrim 

Included in log
Monday, October 7th, 3013

There’s a certain joy to being back home in Beacon. Cyrielle enjoyed her time in Volkan (for a number of reasons), but she missed the stars of the night sky and the trees. She’s managed, somehow, to convince Nitrim to spend a few days with her at the treehouse within the forests on Hollolas land, just outside the Hand itself. They’ve only recently arrived to the still crescent-fresh treehouse and the youngest Hollolas has sent word to her brother, alerting him that not only are they settling in, but there’s a few bottles of whiskey she needs help emptying and the possibility of a good horror film.

The treehouse itself is a multi-level affair, built around the tree itself. The floorplan is an open one, reminiscent perhaps of a loft. The lowest floor is surrounded by a balcony and boasts a kitchenette and a lounge around a large Infosphere screen. The next level is the only one enclosed, serving as a small, but cozy bath. The third (with a narrow sweep of stairs past the second) is a bedroom area. Lastly, a small balcony is just atop the tree past the canopy, providing a place to sit and enjoy nature.

Cyrielle is up in the bedroom area, unpacking and getting things settled in after her time away. There are a handful of new outfits to put up and get added into her small, but select wardrobe. She’s wearing one; an asymmetrical skirt of a mix of materials. Lace drapes low against her right leg, while a faux-leather skirts tight against her left calf. Various grommets, buckles, and straps encircle waist and hips. She wears a thin, strappy top in a dark, burgundy red that rides just so against her waist, sometimes revealing small sections of skin if she shifts just right. Knowing that Nitrim likes it, she’s left her hair loose and tumbling about her shoulders.

With such a massive tree house to explore, Nitrim has left his suitcase in the bedroom area with Cyrielle. After getting his eyeful of the room, and perhaps a few furtive, magnetic glances to the jagged hemline of the skirt she wears, he slips free to trot back down the stairs to the main pit of the treehouse. Hopping off the last stair, he shrugs his heavy coat off of his shoulders and lights a cigarette, leaving the former over a kitchen chair as he starts to concern himself with the evening. The gift box of a bottle of expensive Volkan bourbon? Check. Cigarette lit? Check. He turns on his tablet and starts selecting his roster of horror movies. Epic tale of doomed crew of haunted space faring sailors? Double-check (sequel). With his back to the door, he loads up his messages to busy himself while waiting for the brother to arrive.

Without a knock, Ephraim’s only indication of arrival is heavy foot falls plodding up to or along the balcony and him simply stepping in. With sister upstairs doing her thing, he’s left to the visage of Nitrim, loafing about and checking messages. He feigns a humph sound, and calls out so that hopefully his sister can hear him. “See, this is why joint ownership will never work,” but then, he was expecting them to be here and his smile is more warm than anything else. “Okay, I confess, whisky and movie really lured me in, and some rumor that there was this guy here my sister wanted me to meet.” Then he sees the gift box not far away, “Oh, I like him already, he got me a lovely gift.” Most of that is joking, he assumes it was for his sister actually, whisky was enough for him. “Do we do formalities now, pretend to be proper lords and bow and sniff each other, or can we skip to the movie list and see how close our selection is, the real testament?” That last bit directed towards Nitrim who is present.

"Who said the bourbon was for you?" Nitrim turns around with a shit-eating grin. Of course, it is, but it's funny. His eyes snow over into white and a haze of flaming serpent screams over his shoulder as he floats the tablet over to Ephraim, freeing his hands to set two shot-glasses down and open the bottle of gifted bourbon. Answering the man's question in a multitude of ways, he steps over and offers the man his hand for an honest shake while waiting for Cyri to catch up. "Nitrim Khournas. Cyrielle and Lorelei Quellton speak highly of you. Good to meet a friend of a friend, mate."

“I’ve yet to agree to that!” Cyrielle’s initial response is surely to the concept of joint-ownership. “You could have your own treehouse! With hookers and booze!” The shouting ceases as she starts her way down the stairs. The stairs are broad and sloping- a breeze for anyone, but certainly easier for her. She does keep a hand on the railing on her descent, dark eyes sharply on the two men below.

Pausing on a landing to catch herself, she watches them. Perhaps looking for any signs of trouble brewing. Or at least posturing that could lead to trouble. “Volkan, I learned, hasn’t many select distillations, but I found I enjoyed this one.” Speaking of the bottle that was brought. “I did attempt to educate the heir to Khournas on how many of our ships have their own specialty liquor.”

Taking the offered hand, Ephraim meets the intensity of the shake with similar firmness, not trying to press hardy like some crazy potential business partner. “That is the rumor isn’t it, nothing but good news about you as well. Somewhere that is the secret I guess.” Then he goes to take the offered shot glass, lifting it up, but responding to his sister in that moment, “Hookers and booze, mine would definitely win then, but … it its mine, I wouldn’t want to trash it either.” He lifts the glass then, and lets it slide down to his throat. Eyes closing slightly letting it run down and warm the insides of his esophagus, he pauses for a second and then responds, “You know, if I say I like it and my father finds out, he’ll probably kill me. So, we stand in agreement, secret truce, its not to leave this room … but Khournas has something going for it in this bourbon.”

Nitrim's grip in the shake isn't an attempt at establishing dominance, but it is the firm, almost militaristic grip, that one would come to expect from a son of the Crescent. It's also far from clammy, which is never fun. "Well, if you two like it so much just send me local Hand bottle labels and I'll help you smuggle it in, or for shame, you'll just have to let me entertain you two back home more often." Nitrim adds, walking past Ephraim to give a hooded look to Cyrielle that accompanies a wink. Snatching up the shot glass, he tilts his head and downs it, then offers to pour one for Cyri. "Ice. Broken. So, Cyri tells me I should hit you up for a sailing lesson so your people don't laugh at me, Ephraim. We don't have water, we have lava, but I knot how to tie knots."

“You can have your hookers,” Cyrielle says to Ephram, gesturing expansively. “I’m well-satisfied in the bedroom.” She continues her trek down the stairs to join them, nodding in acceptance of a shot poured. “He’s apparently willing to work hard,” she offers, brushing absently at the skirt. She’s still adapting to the style. “I figure you can ensure that he at least won’t embarrass himself when he meets dad.”

“Certainly,” agrees Ephraim to the shape of sailing, which he is all for. “I mean, if you give it half an effort, you’ll do far better than most. Especially if it involves seaworthy vessels, not the space sort.” Then he sighs, “Okay, its decided then, I’ll have to retrieve Dear Prudence. No laughing, I gambled away my ship, I meant to reclaim it through mayhem and hijinx. One of your merchants along the southern coast of the Black Waste won it in a card game, I was gonna valiantly steal it back … Lorelei put a conscience in my mind that I should try to get it back fairly. That is now the plot, reclaim the ship, fair and square. We proceed to find some time to sail it, put Nitrim at the helm and see that we don’t crash into anything.” Then he fake stage whispers to Nitrim, “And you know, its mostly open water and ship systems, hard to hit anything. If you get close it beeps at you, but we’ll teach a couple of knots so its seems more legit that you’re interested in sailing … but absolutely no silly sailing hats and shirts, I can’t stand them.”

Well-satisfied brings a certain shade of red to the backs of Nitrim's ears, but not out of a certain degree of prudence, but at the sudden revelation, or danger of suggestion before a man who is still for all intents and purposes a stranger to Nitrim. Still, the words bring a certain brow-lowered look to Cyrielle, a look she's seen before through windows. "It's just a thing I don't have any experience with, really," Nitrim begins to explain to them as he motions his tablet to Ephraim, horror movie queued. "but my father raised us to not fuck around, so when we're being taught something we pay attention. I'm not some lacey Valen that's gonna squeal and vomit and demand tea breaks."

Nitrim laughs, moving to pass Cyrielle on his way to the stair's bannister for a lean, complete with thumbs hooked in the menacing drake's head on his belt buckle. "But in trade, Ephraim, I'll hook you up; I've got some sway on Volkan hotels or we could VIP it at the Warehouse, bring a date, and we'll dodge the press. Unless you really were serious about drawing some heat off of me. In that case, I'll have to be more creative on the favor owed."

“Those hats,” Cyrielle says, affecting somewhat of a gag. “I cannot believe that people kept purchasing them for us. Remember the one Fiona got when she was fifteen? And father tried demanding she wear it while sailing out?” There’s a shudder from the brunette and she requires now that bourbon. It doesn’t take long for a shot to be downed and she glances between the two of them. “This is all dependent on whether or not my idiot brother gets his ship back. Like as not, he’ll challenge the merchant to another game and put something of Irvette’s on the table because he thinks it’s -funny.-” All said, mind, in good spirits, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Does dad still have that skiff he was saving, should I return from my banishment to the dark, scary woods and wish to sail again?” She hasn’t even bothered to ask. Likely not wishing to give a false sense of hope to Lord Hollolas. “You could always use that, lest you find yourself naked in a strange city, having lost everything to cards. Again.”

“Aye,” agrees Ephraim to everything, or nothing in general, opening in response, “The offer was valid. I gambled away a ship, shouldn’t be that hard to take some heat off any fall out between you two going to dad. He has his grudges, I’d rather see Cyri happy you know. He’ll die first, she’s a clear win in that contest. Besides, its the only way to continue to see my baby, the treehouse.” Which isn’t his baby at all, he just goes there, smiling a little, almost a chuckle, not wanting to dwell on the hats, but recalling them vividly, especially the Fiona one. That was a long day in hell most likely. “The skiff, he does, but still hoping you know. I do like the idea of putting up something of Irvette’s. But I’m afraid to sneak into her room and look around you know, she’ll probably be practicing ninja skills and mount an attack on me … not knowing who I am, I’ll be gutted like a fish.” A slight shuttle, he flips through the choices on the tablet. “No favors owed if I can pull heat off though, and we can practice on that Skiff I think, whether dad agrees or not. That’s a reasonable amount of sneaking and I know a perfect little island we could sail it too, enough to understand the wind and current, cutting without the hydro foils beneath the waves - the old kind of sailing. Dad might adopt you if you can master that, just you’d have to change your name.” Then he starts rattling about the movies, campers and cabin, Academ students on a road trip, the usual fair, but sailors trapped in space, he lifts a brow too.

"Being adopted by your High Lord father might make any future tabloid news more awkward than it needs to be. Besides I've got a father and your father doesn't take any shit I'd like to see them in the same room together." Nitrim pushes off of the bannister, brushing a hand a little too low on the back of Cyrielle's skirt for daytime television standards while her brother is distracted. There's a little conspiratory smirk on his lip as he passes, moving to the sitting area. "I can't help you get your ship back honestly, but if that changes let me know, I'm not above being a quiet, drinking pair of eyes on the other side of the room with sharp eyes and telepathy. You'd have to take it to your grave though, with Lorelei at least."

Nitrim laughs, brushing a hand through his shaggy, blonde hair as he turns to face them. "Are…you wanting to come out with us, Cyrielle? No pressure. If not I'm sure Ephraim and I will come back from the sea with a hold full of spoils and a tattoo or two. Sounds like a good time. Sounds like low-level piracy and swinging from ropes if we get drunk enough. I like this brother of yours. He's a scoundrel, I know, we smell our own."

“That and I told you he was.” Cyrielle pauses, tilting her glass in her hand. This way and that. “Or I’m fairly sure I did. Either way, yes. Ephraim, Nitrim. Scoundrel, scoundrel. Though, Eph… please don’t talk Nitrim into any games in which he may gamble away something that will only get him further entrenched in the tabloids. We are trying to get them away from him.” She smirks, nonetheless, and approaches the Khourni. Sliding a hand through his arm, she leans in slightly. “So what movies have been chosen tonight? Or are you still deciding?”

Inhaling as if in shock, Ephraim ponders, “Scoundrel …” But a grin breaks the surface rather quickly, “You realize, at this years convention, the board moved to adopt Vagabond as the official reference this year. So, not to be a stickler for rules but … its more adventurous.” He turns over that idea in his mind a moment then, “No, wait, scoundrel still has that crisp ring to it, I’m good with that too.” He chuckles, looks at the tablet, “Quantum Spectre: the Leap it looks like, just because, as much as I wouldn’t mind naked kids running around, I need a break from that sometimes too you know.” He offers it back, they can send it off to the wireless and get it up on whatever screen they’ll call home for the viewing. “I’m glad you’ll take the sailing serious, that’s the one place seriousness was enforced by dad. If you get the hang of it quickly enough, I’d recommend finding a ship of your families line and offering a fishing trip. That might ease any tensions … aside from deflecting the attention. Just, I’ll have to count on you two for the conspiracy, Lorelei might not like me putting myself out there, if you two could sort of ease her into the mayhem and fall out, I might survive that one.”

Leaning against Cyrielle, Nitrim nods faintly at the suggestion of the movie and casts a wide grin. As it’s dialed up, he looks over Cyri’s head and glances to the sofa, tugging her softly in that direction. “Naked kids running around is always awkward around sisters or when you don’t have a date, anyway.” Nitrim adds, knowing the territory well. Turning, he lowers to the sofa, offering his arm to Cyrielle. “As for the ship, fuck, I don’t think my family actually owns one, maybe a few of the companies out of Volkan have something docked near the hand for import work or have come up that way, but there’s never been much of a Khourni maritime tradition. Only fighting, drakes, armor, and factories. I’ll talk to Lorelei, though, she’s sort of new getting caught into the web and I bet she’s horrified after being mentioned in the papers with me. That was just coffee, after all. We talked about…recent events.” Also known as Soleil.

Nitrim looks up to Cyrielle, eyes flashing with mischief. “Wait, so I’m not allowed to let him accidentally let me get sold into slavery? Good idea, probably for the best.”

“If you can promise no shenanigans…” Cyrielle settles on the couch, making quite the ordeal and drama out of her announcement. She gestures, grandly, with the glass, “I will make all attempts to join you. It will perhaps keep father from finding out longer of you losing your ship were I to take my skiff out.” She looks thoughtful, settling into the sofa and folding arms across her chest. The outer is posed to hold glass, so she can take sips. “In fact, it would likely warm him more to a Khournas if they were able to convince his baby girl to venture onto the waters again.”

“Look at you guys, conspiracizing against your dad.” Nitrim butts in with a laugh. “We’re trouble. All of us.”

“You have no idea of the things he does to us,” Cyrielle responds quickly, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure he was as much a prankster as Eph in his younger years.”

“Who says he’s stopped, he only has the title that makes him sound the most legit out of all of us,” chuckles Ephraim at that thought. Then a look to his sister, “Wait, you’re saying sailing without some shenanigans … I don’t think there is such a thing. I mean, there is slodging when we cross the Tropic of Estris, and when we sail over the 43 parallel, its shots and life buoy races. Its sailing, Nitrim is new, we have to make up some sort of hazing ritual. Father would find out if we didn’t and it would be like calling him a sailor for free or something.”

“Fuck.” Nitrim grunts, eyes rolling back as the talk off hazing begins, but he doesn’t swear it off. If it has to be done, it has to be done. “I was wondering about that. For all I know, though, since I’ve never been at sea much, I’ll be slung over a railing for a little while, but if there’s anything strong about me it’s my will. If I turn green, I turn green. It’ll pass till I get my legs under me.” Nitrim settles his arm around Cyrielle’s shoulders, eyes darting between the two of them. “One rule, though, whatever it is, don’t let me see it coming and get it on camera. Anabethe would hate to miss it. In turn, I suppose I could bring some field footage of me in the war, if that would interest your father. I want this guy to know I’m not some fop. I’m shady, sure, but like my father I don’t fuck around…” Nitrim blinks. “…regardless of what the tabloids say.”

“Well, you know the shenanigans I’m talking about,” Cyrielle says, shaking a finger crooked away from her glass at Ephraim. “No getting us into some underground gambling ring and putting my skiff on the table before I have any say. Or signing Nitrim up for a fight in a ring with some bear, or octopus, or whatever.” She leans back, settling in against Nitrim somewhat. Glad to have a family member that understands. “Anything that leaves my skiff in my possession and allows Nitrim to decide on his own fate is fine by me.”

She tilts her head back and to the side, making a face as she looks up at the Khourni. “You have got to quit comparing us to the Valen. It’s unfair.”

“You’re covered,” grins Ephraim, “We’ll be able to handle the skiff between us I think, no need for extra crew. Though, maybe we could make some modifications, a few more foils in the water, I think we could break a 100 riding the right current.” A pause, before he loses himself in that thought, “I mean, no cameras, all private eyes once we’re onto open waters. And I promise, no gambling, no risks. We sail off for that island and back, Nitrim learns sailing, hazing aside. Then you two plan the talk with dad, I’ll prepare to be emblazoned gloriously in the tabloids. We all win … and then I borrow something from Irvette and gamble for my ship.”

“I’m not comparing you guys to Valen. I just told you I’m not like the Valen myself.” Nitrim’s voice laces with humor, a mock defense of himself. The Valen/Khourni rivalry, well known as ever, doesn’t seem to be lost on the lordling as he settles back against the sofa. “Honestly, I’m a fan of you guys so far it’s a shame the Hand is so far away, I think our Houses would have gotten along famously otherwise.” Nitrim adds, smiling to Cyrielle before his head swivels over to Ephraim. He places his hand over his lips, blocking view of them from Cyrielle as he nods upwards to her brother, giving him a confident look. “And for the record? I could fight an octopus or a bear. In a pinch, if it’s necessary, I’m in.”

“Oh, there would have to be a camera. How else am I to further bond with Nitrim’s family than to be able to sneak out the image of him choking on liquor distilled within the bowels of a ship or wobbling as the seas get a bit rough?” Cyrielle’s banter does not hide the slight worry in her eyes. It’s been a number of years- will she remember everything well enough? Be able to keep her composure?

“I think so many think a vassal is exactly like their Paramount, but it’s not always the case. We love the land and the Spine, but we’re fairly apolitical and we understand often that what must be done… must be done. And Volkan has taught me that the same had to be done in the Crescent. It wasn’t just rampant destruction brought on by the people. It was the nature of the land itself.”

Ephraim stage mouthes back to Nitrim, “Fighting an octopus is a lot like floozies in a club you know, all arms and squishy and wet, while trying to find the quickest way to get some air.” Then he pretends to be shocked he would even say something like that. He’s not, but he widens his eyes just t little. “Okay, one camera, Cyri’s own to record the events for her virtual scrap booking projects. As for Khournas and Valen and Vassals, I think dad’s only concern is the growing number of merchants not from our house trying to ply the waters. They’re starting to encroach a little, but when Hostiles show up to threaten them, we have to figure out a way to get warships where they need to go. Nothing like your rivalry, just his own concerns. I imagine once the ice breaks though, he’ll take to the two of you fondly.” He pauses, then looks to his sister, “And not to use you, but if father thought he might see more of you after this,” the six year sequestration, “He might take more to the idea even, just saying, leverage for the table you know.”

This gets Nitrim thinking, which is evident as his green eyes stare off towards the corner of the wall-screen as the opening credits to the movie begin. He chews his lip, brows lowered deep in thought, unconsciously brushing his hand over Cyrielle’s shoulder. Hrmm. “Cyrielle, if that’s something you’re interested in, you know I’m more than happy to help. I just don’t want to storm onto the scene and give the man I’m trying to earn his favor by shoe-horning something into place that no one’s comfortable with. If I can help, though, I’m more than willing.” Nitrim adds, his hips shuffling as he stretches a leg out to rest on the coffee table. “So, Ephraim, not to be direct, but does this mean I have your endorsement or does it ride on our day at sea?”

“I am hoping to marry this man,” Cyrielle says with a roll of her eyes. “Do not be convincing him to risk drowning himself just so he can say he fought an octopus.” However would she explain THAT to his family? She turns slightly to be able to view the screen. “I won’t lie. I’m terrified of going back out there. But a small part of me misses it terribly. The weather has been pleasant around our shores, so perhaps it’s as good a time as any.” She does glance over, waiting for her brother’s reply to Nitrim’s question.

“Why wouldn’t you want to marry a man that can kick the shit out of an octopus?” Nitrim returns, a half-giggle as he shines a faux-innocent smile to Cyrielle.

“Fuck me, if he could take a kraken, I’d marry him with lures of my virgin ass,” says Ephraim chuckling at the thought of that, almost going into a laugh at the thought itself. “I’ll make a deal, I won’t even take Nitrim out on the edges of any storms, it will literally be fair sailing.” As if to offer that for his sister’s sake just the same, but something he might consider for the other as part of the hazing. Then more serious, he nods to Nitrim then, “You had my endorsements when my sister confessed you made her happy. I’m not one to judge the value of someone else’s happiness, simple, complex or otherwise. That we can get along, that’s just a bonus for me. You just have to promise me, if you ever miss an engagement or date with my sister and its because we went drinking or something, I can’t take all the blame for that.”

Nitrim laughs, oh he laughs. A kraken for a virgin ass. Not tempting, but funny. He throws his head back, closing his eyes into the funny moment, or the idea of himself facing down tentacles the size of buildings. “Deal.” He says, cutting the laughter and offering a hand to Ephraim to shake on it. “So long as if this sees through to us being related across family lines that you never, ever do anything too stupid that she hurts you for it. You’re a single man, I’ll wing man for you, but once done is done and you’ll find the tabloids were far more about my past than my future. I really like her, Ephraim. She’s a good friend above all, and I want to do this right. I’m a scoundrel but I’m sick of being aimless. Perhaps in Hollolas I’ll find my true north.”

“And not to talk about you like you’re not here,” Nitrim’s head turns looking to Cyrielle with a raise pair of brows. “Thank you for introducing me to your brother. Like you with Anabethe, it’s important to me that this isn’t some chore for your family. I want all of this to be something everyone’s happy with, all around.”

“Ugh. Ephraim, I need no tales of your ass and whether or not it’s virginal.” This, despite her speaking of rolls in the hay with Lorelei. His rolls, that is. Cyrielle lifts her drink and drains the rest of it, moving to get to her feet. The sounds of gore and the like already emanate from the screen, but it serves more as background noise than anything else. Some gatherings have quiet pop music- theirs has people dying in new and visceral ways. “Anyone else need a refill?”

“That’s what I would like also,” she says, glancing from Nitrim to Ephraim as she heads for the bottle of bourbon. “Family is important. Now moreso than ever. We all have a common enemy. There’s no need to draw lines in the sand with our allies.”

Chuckling just a little more over the areas that are virginal on his body, Ephraim nods. It was said, but to delve too far on that road might lead to actual movie watching and less conversation. “That’s it, that is the idea I’ve been searching for lately. It took the gambling of the ship to see it, but I want to be in that less aimless space. Maybe its the arrival of the Hostiles, new outlooks. I’m with you both on this one. Even if its wishful thinking on my part, that somewhere it all works out, then so be it. I just believe its a pursuit worth following, you two are taking the lead. And for family, maybe it is a chore, but it should be a chore enjoyed because of the outcomes I think. That I get to see her smile, well, if its in part all you Nitrim, I’m glad to see her smile like she has been.” Then a nod, “Yes, I think I need two refills, I’m falling behind … what’s the count at?”

“Yes, Cyrielle, if you’d please.” Nitrim looks up to Cyrielle, his eyes falling to her hips as she walks away for just a second. It’s nothing polite to do in front of her brother, but it’s proof that alongside the friendship that there’s some degree of attraction that Nitrim has for her. He peels his eyes away from her skirt to look back to Ephraim.

“Take it from someone who’s been there and is coming out of it.” Nitrim offers the man, his smile fading to that tone of brotherly advice. “The only thing you can do is try to pay attention and really ask yourself if it’s worth the trouble in the morning. I won’t lie, a lot in the tabloids about me is true. I haven’t been trustworthy, I am the topic of that stupid book, and sometimes I learn things about myself that I wasn’t aware that I did because I was too drunk or didn’t-give-a-fuck enough to realize that there’s so many vultures out there.” He nods faintly. “It’s the war, I think, that did it to me, but I don’t want a wife I’ve damaged with things that seemed a good idea at the moment. Honor is starting to mean more to me, and I’ve hurt people. It’s all black stains, but not all regrets.” He laughs softly, there’s been some good times. “If you ever need advice or someone to talk you down away from a girl you can’t say no to, give me a call. I’d be happy to help. I just can’t stomach the idea of surviving this war drinking and partying while my family, fathers, cousins, and everyone are being serious. I want better for myself.”

“I’ll just bring the bottle,” Cyrielle decides, realizing she’s not bothered to keep count on how much they’ve drank. She glances over her shoulder, smirking in her brother’s direction. “Family is a trial. Especially when your older brother finds amusement in replacing your clothes with seaweed. My entire closet and drawers! All of it. Seaweed. I don’t even know how he ever collected all of that.” She mock-huffs as she returns to the sofa with liquor and glasses in tow. Each is filled, handed to the men one at a time.

Dark eyes do drift to Nitrim and there’s a soft, small smile. “You made mistakes and you’re learning. That’s more important than most anything. /I/ don’t want a husband who has never dirtied his own hands or made a vital mistake. Like Young Lord Pimpleface.” She shudders.

“Not being paramount,” responds Ephraim, “I suppose there has been some small luxury in that anything that would net you on the front page was only a sideline if I should of slipped up.” Not saying he’s done near as much as Nitrim, no confirming no denying. “I should ask for Advice on Lorelei, I don’t know if I’m setting us both up for some heartbreak and disappointment. She just feels right.” A pause, then he ponders something his sister said, it taking a moment with a touch of alcohol to his mind.

He grins and replies, “You have to admit though, no one else could assemble seaweed clothes so well. It wasn’t just seaweed, you know, some of it was sewn together into little shirts and pants. As for young lord ilovemypuppywholicksmeinfunnyways, his biggest mistake might be his odd pursuit in you after so many years. I fear for that lad you know.”

"Well, his loss and my gain. I got her." Nitrim holds his glass out, offering to tap glasses with them with a triumphant, devil-may-care look on his face. "And just in time might I add. Perhaps it was fate that I called off what I did or that she and I skulked to the same tavern and met each other, but something about it has my restored my faith in existence itself. I'm rather happy too."

After the toast, he sips his drink and slips an arm around Cyrielle's hips, leaning in against her to look back over to Ephraim. A slow growing look of concerns dots his features, and he points with his glass to the man. "Lorelei someday wants to be the mother of children, Ephraim. There's no other way of saying this, truly, but your key to her is getting your father to agree that if she were your companion that she could have children, and that her family stables are kept and maintained. They mean a great deal to her." Nitrim turns his head, looking into Cyrielle's eyes as something has changed in the man for the moment. Perhaps this family talk is becoming more comfortable to him, indeed. "I'd like to help, if at all possible, Cyrielle, as Lorelei is a dear friend of mine. I was there for her awakening and if anyone deserves a happy ending, it's her." He smirks into his glass. "No pun intended. She wouldn't appreciate me making that pun."

“Whoever did you convince to sew them, anyway?” Cyrielle just cannot believe her brother would be capable of sewing seaweed into clothing. It’s a bit too out of left field for her. She makes a face at the mention of the heir to one of Hollolas’ smaller vassals. “I believe his mother hopes to curry favor by offering… such… a promising… young man…” she can’t even keep a straight face and starts laughing into her glass. A swig is taken. “You know they’ve always wanted that one valley.”

She looks to Nitrim, nose wrinkling slightly. “I’m afraid I likely upset her quite thoroughly. I… happened to, while drunk, inform her that I don’t mind if she sleeps with my brother, so long as she doesn’t cause the family any undue problems by showing up with a bastard.” There’s a glance into her drink. “I did apologize. I’m not sure if she accepted that.”

“No, no,” says Ephraim, softly, dismissive. Suggesting its okay what was said, while chewing over what Nitrim had just said as well. “I think that’s it though. I totter around the topic of companion because I don’t think she wants to be a companion wife. But I could take that to her. I mean the stables, that’s easy to manage, or at least, help along with. But children, I think father could be agreeable. You’re both right, I shall have to talk with her about this very topic. Maybe it will help make certain topics easier between us even.” He pours himself a drink, but quickly downs that, stands, “Okay, restroom and then the movie for real, I find these conversations on screen so enlightening.” Then he is standing to make for a breaking of the seal so to speak. No mad dogging or eyes about the interactions between Lord Nitrim and Lady Cyrielle, the sister, it may just seem he is indeed sincere in the acceptance of the two at the happiness it brings to his sister.

"It's alright, Cyri, Lorelei is somewhat innocent to our noble ways and when a Lady speaks I think she knows to take it as value. I'm sure Ephraim can set her straight." Nitrim replies, nodding to Ephraim as he steps off towards the restroom. Once he's out of earshot, he turns to look to Cyrielle's face and quiets. A somewhat pleased look settles in over his features. "I think…that this…is going well?"

“You should talk to her. Before anything happens, like father deciding perhaps a good woman from the Vale might be what you need.” Cyrielle says this to Ephraim’s back as her brother departs. She reaches for the bottle of bourbon, topping off glasses. Eyes shift to Nitrim and her lips curve in a smile. “He’s offered you his anal virginity should you defeat a kraken. I’d say it’s going very well.”

"Know where I could find a kraken, Cyrielle?" Nitrim can't help but laugh, his words almost snorting out. "We're not married yet." He points a finger into the center of her chest for a soft poke, then adjusts to poke a little to the left, because boob. "Sounds like you're in a race to seal this up before I find a kraken."

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