One Last Drink (Summer Solstice)

[Terragon Scrufftail]

*Leaning against a wall in the Whispering Willow, Terragon watches the proceedings through narrowed eyes. Some kind of celebration led namely by one of the refugee groups. And there were undoubtedly groups. Even in the face of war, there were scraps and conflicts on a daily basis. But rules were tightening and only this morning, the squirrel leaderess had grimly watched a pair of squabbling dog foxes marched from the settlement by the Terraluxian Guard.*
Oi! Miz Canopy! *A stoat pushes his way through the crowd towards Terragon. Reaching her, he asks, out of breath.* Drink?
*Terragon considers this for a moment before accepting with a smile.* Why not? If you don't mind fighting your way through this lot again.
I'm goin' up t' the bar anyways, *The stoat calls back, already struggling back through the thickening crowd, holding up an empty tankard.* Wha' c'n I get yer?
Something, *Terragon shouts back, to which the other throws a mock salute before he disappears into the rabble.* Not strong, *She adds, although if the stoat - Bassanio - hears her, his reply is lost in the noise of the tavern. With a faint smile, Terragon leans back against the wall.* One last drink, *She promises herself aloud and all of a sudden, remembers; the creatures around her are celebrating the Summer Solstice.*

[Tinsy Stormsight]

There is an odd silence from the Eale corner, a vaguely uncomfortable one. The usual three are there..Lonas, Regen, and Rippla..but the first two are engaging in an almost angry silence. The last is merely sitting, watching the squirrel brothers with a raised eyebrow. He is being very loudly ignored.
As far as Rippla knows, the current difficulty is a family argument..something about Lonas having a son, Raymond, and Regen not liking something about it. Or maybe it was Regen changing his name and Lonas not liking that due to some misguided sense of family loyalty. Perhaps it was both. Rippla, though, figured there was a third reason..a slight embarrasment to the two, even if neither was especially political.
Well, Lonas Eale..or Raymond, whatever..the disowned fool, now had a son. Regen de Terraluxon, scion of the great Eale family..or was, anyway..was childless. It was, when one considered it, pretty ironic.
Well, Rippla didn't let these things bother him anyway. There were more important activities to engage in and worry about than the Eale family's bickerings. The weasel liked Regen well enough, and could tolerate Lonas, but he wasn't so fond of them that he cared to involve himself in their arguments.
Nevertheless, when Regen opened his mouth to say something, Rippla interrupted quickly and nodded toward the wall on the other side of the bar.
"Why don't ye go talk to Terragon."
Not a suggestion. Regen, slightly drunk, didn't argue. He was a little on the depressed side now that he'd found out what Lonas was up to finally. The golden squirrel sighed, gulped down the last of his drink, and started shoving his way to where the leaderess could be seen leaning up against the wall.

There was silence at the table for a moment. Lonas looked like he was planning to say something, but changed his mind at the last moment and commented, "Th' solstice is a Pag'n holiday, y'know."
Rippla, used to these unrelated discussions by now, shrugged. "Aye, that would be why the priest is not taking part in the celebrations."
There was silence again, although a less distracting one without Regen at the table. Well, that was one thing taken care of, at least for now.

The trip through the room was strangely easy..Regen, used to shoving his way through bar crowds, found that the combination of his thunderous look and the Guard badge on his shoulder got him through the crowd of gypsies, travelers, and vermin fairly easily. The only beast he had to push aside was a very drunk weasel, who didn't complain due to the very evident sword Regen carried.
The big squirrel reached the wall and leaned heavily against it, where he stood scowling into the crowd. The majority of the creatures avoided his gaze, for once. Usually they all mobbed him with requests for this, a paper to that, and clan war the other. It was also ironic that he'd tried hard to avoid becoming a dimplomat, and now found himself seneschal of a refugee fort. Typical.
"Evenin'." Regen's tone of voice was irritated still, but only on general principal. He glanced out the corner of his eye at Terragon, waiting for the characteristic answering nod.

[Terragon Scrufftail]

*Terragon acknowledges the other with a nod, one corner of her mouth twitching in a small smile.* You've just missed your opportunity for a drink, Reg', *She tells him, by way of greeting.* Or are you off the stuff nowadays? I thought I was, *A quiet breath of laughter.* But one last one. *Terragon steps away from the wall and turns to face Regen, forcing a grin.* C'mon, I'll get you a drink. Martin knows you deserve one. *"Martin knows"? she repeats silently. Haven't heard you say that in years. Grin widening, Terragon's dark eyes take in Regen's scowl. You deserve it, she tells him again silently.*

[Tinsy Stormsight]

"Martin, hey?" Regen ignores the other questions in favor of wondering who this 'Martin' might be. He shrugs anyway, deciding that it doesn't matter..doubtless one of those English knights that the Britons were always harping on about, like Launcelot or Art'r. Typical. They were even more obsessed with their dead heroes than his own nation. At least the Spanish stayed away from dead half-legendary knights in favor of wars and blood feuds that had been very much alive for the last two-hundred years...
The big squirrel shrugs slightly, his brown eyes returning to their usual calm demeanor. Another drink couldn't hurt him. He was, after all, Spanish, and a drink made everything better for them.
Well, usually, if you didn't count the wars with the English and French, which were made infinitely worse by a glass of wine and a dagger in the gut. Ah well.
"Aye, sure. Can't help."
That would take care of any of the related questions, like whether he'd really make anything better by getting drunk and stabbing the leader of the damned gypsies, or by informing Lonas again of what he thought of him. Although, Regen supposed, he could just wait for Corin and the Eale-at-home faction to find out about the most recent fiasco and save himself the trouble.

[Terragon Scrufftail]

*Terragon follows Bassanio's path through the crowd, leaving Regen by the wall. A few creatures give a pretence of shuffling out of the leaderess' way, but the rest continue to jossle and push their way towards the bar. Since the arrival of so many newcomers, Terragon had become increasingly aware of her height, or - as she now realises the case to be - lack of it. Luckily, the dormouse at the bar recognises her and calls out. Only then does Terragon remember she has forgotten to ask Regen what he'd like to drink and orders a tankard of the Whispering Willow's beer; one Terraluxian tradition not yet invaded by the settlement's newcomers.*
*Another struggle back through the crowd, a little of the beer spilling on the Tavern's stone floor, and Terragon stands next to Regen again.* There, you deserve it, *She repeats, presenting the tankard to him and resuming her place by the wall.* Any news from the Guilds?