theattic | PSL: KINGS OF ABORG

"There is water you know, you don't have to suck down your wine like you're never going to have another drop again." He returns, though if Maurice wanted to get drunk, then he wouldn't stop him. He stares at his human companion a moment though, curious before deciding on a very bad idea. "Though, if you're so insistent, I could challenge you to a drinking contest." He smiles wide.

"If you think the odds aren't in your favor, we can try it with my other shape." Not that it would curb his appetite or ability to hold his drink, but Maurice didn't know that.

In any case, he'll nod sagely at the offer, sure that if Maurice had a few days to practice it would be easier to indulge him. "If you don't pierce the other ear, I think I can manage."

Peeking over his drink, Maurice let out a snort.

"I don't know about that, sir dragon! I would hate to embarrass you in your own cave, but you can take on whatever shape y'like!"

He found himself hoping to see Hanna's human face again. He'd only seen it a couple of times.

Maurice nodded and shifted his grin from confident to sheepish. "I promise, you won't have to worry about that again. You have my word."

"Well, over confidence is a weapon, I'll take it, my lord." Hannacross says smoothly, nodding his head in a sort of bow before his whole body starts to shrink. It's an odd process, his wings wrapping around his body, limps pulling in, tail all but disappearing, but when the process ends, the fibers of his wings turn to cloth, falling down and around his much smaller shoulders, and the shock of red hair is there again, white cloak around him, barefoot as usual, but pristine. To add to the magic, the ring still dangles, having changed in shape as well to suit. It took a little bit more concentration, but he thinks it will be easy enough in the future to manage.

Instead of sitting, Hanna is now standing at the table, bowing before he takes a moment to consider the cask he had been previously drinking straight from, a little large now for a human of his small stature to handle, and shrugs, heading to grab another glass. "Well, perhaps if it came with more beautiful jewelry, I might ask for another hole, but if it's out of anger, yes. I'll keep you to your word, Maurice."

Maurice straightened up when Hanna began changing. He lowered his wine and watched in open awe. Magic. Perhaps, once he had finished more of his copywork, he could watch the dragon work on his potions.

And he did notice the earring staying in place. He hadn't even thought about what would happen to it! Amazing.

He rubbed his face and held his glass up to Hanna once he'd filled his own. A toast! To what, he didn't know. He just felt like this was something to celebrate.

Returning with his glass, he had just finished pouring himself more when Maurice lifted his towards him. The dragon, now human shaped, wore a very serious expression of confusion. What was that? Did...did he want to share?

Was this some sort of human ritual? He thought drinking together was a human thing already. Don't tell him there is more...

"What is that...what are you doing?" Help. He doesn't know.

The prince looked between the wizard and his glass, suddenly feeling a little silly. Like his human thing wasn't worthy of being known by dragons but...well, really how else was Hanna going to find out about it.

"It's...something called a toast! I don't know why it's called that, but, well, when there's something to celebrate like..." Maurice rubbed his scratchy chin as he thought. "Like a battle victory! Or a great hunt! Or to welcome esteemed guests...the list goes on and on...but you hold your drink aloft and I suppose in less civilized places they actually knock the glasses together but that makes a mess."

"Oh..." Hanna had spent most of his life quite alone. He was the aloof wizard that traveled in and out of town, selling his wares, but never did he sit down in a tavern to eat a meal, to have a drink. He came into town, and then left, and despite his small size, never purchased anything but ingredients for potions and never food. He was a real mystery.

"I suppose I've never seen one before...So it's to celebrate." He considers Maurice's glass, raising his own and as gently as he can, tinks the glass against the side of Maurice's. "Because I'm mostly civilized, I think we can have a happy medium. But...how are you supposed to say it? I want to celebrate something but...is there a way you should word it? I don't want to sound stupid."

"Oh! Well, alright then. I'll show you."

Maurice stood, nearly caught his boot on his stool and took a tumble, and held his drink up. He loudly cleared his throat and imitated his mother's speeches.

"Guests! I would like to raise a toast to a bountiful hunt! And..." He leaned a little to see Hanna on the other side of his goblet. "Mended friendships."

He waited.

He then stage-whispered, "You raise your glass up and just repeat the last part of what I said."

Hanna does stand, and he's trying not to laugh. This all is a little silly to him, but he supposes it makes sense. "To mended friendships," He repeats, though he seems he isn't done, glass still raised.

"And for the return of my apprentice, who has much better handwriting even if his sense of humor needs a little work," He finishes, winking at Maurice before taking his seat again and drinking from his glass. After he tips the whole thing back, he'll look at his companion, casually. "How did I do?"

Humans were, by and large, very silly creatures.

The grin that covered the prince's face was genuine and wobbly. "Perfect."

He sat down heavily and spilled a little of his drink on the table.

"Now! This competition you spoke of." He lifted his goblet again as though it were a sword. "Do your worst, dragon!"

Hanna, who couldn't figure out just why he thought it was a better smile than any he had seen on the man, positively beamed.

And yet, there was a competition to be had. Hanna wouldn't let him off easy. "Just don't spill most of it with that wild gesturing of yours. Or we can give you half a glass at a time if you need the handicap." He pours himself another glass and drinks, leaning over to slide the one untouched cask in front of him with the one they had been working on in front of Maurice. "If you lose it, or pass out, you forfeit."

"Spout off all you want, you'll be singing a different tune from underneath the table soon enough!"

Maurice talked a big game but after his fifth glass, he'd dissolved into a snickering mess. He had to hold his head up with one hand to keep it off the table. The prince's hair had fallen into his face and the peered at Hanna both mystified, frustrated, and amused from between his parted fingers.

"You know you...you could always do polkadots next time you do your--your--your. You know. Your thing with the...colors!"

Hanna, who was closer to seven glasses on top of what he had already had before they started, seemed to be just fine. Or at least, much less drunk than his apprentice.

"What, do you have a problem with pink? It's my favorite color. Polkadots would be hideous." Much like the nasty colors he had turned when Maurice had moved his potions.

Still, he's curious, raising a brow at Maurice, "Honestly, if I could do any colors, what would you suggest, in all seriousness. And no patterns, those are difficult." if he were in his usual shape he would have snorted smoke, but as it was he just huffed instead. It wasn't quite so dramatic.

"No, no, no, no, pink's fine! It'sssss fiiiiine. But I'm just saying. Polkadots. Or. Or tartan!"

He put his glass forward for a refill and held his hands up to create a frame around what he could see of Hanna. However now he was faced with a question.

"Uhmmm.....well, I still think you look like a church. Th' white's real nice but..." He shut one eye at a time and tried to visualize. "Purple. Prupple's a royal color. You know they make purple from seashells!"

"Tartan." Hanna scoffs, shaking his head. He was not impressed. Sorry Maurice, but he may look like a blank canvas, but that didn't mean you could fill it in with anything you wanted. "If I could do checkers, maybe. But again, that's more trouble than it's worth."

He sits back in his chair, his eyes wandering over the other man's face, the way he leaned, the way he tried to focus, smiling at the idea of him focusing so much on just him. "Do you think I'm regal? I'm not sure I'm worth such a noble color, my lord.

"Checkers wouldn't do, they'd hunt you for sure just to play games on your hide."

Maurice shook his head very seriously before returning to the true topic at hand. Or claw, in the hidden Hanna's case. The prince tilted his head--a little too far for it to be a natural gesture-- at the very thought of the dragon NOT being regal.

"Of course you are! You're a--a-- dragon! Your neck is like--" Maurice made a wild swooping motion, leaning across the table as if to better. "--like an eagle's! But your brow is...more...I'm not a poet, I can't descrive things very well...descrive? De. Scrive. DESCRIBE! Ahaha! I'm a scribe who can't describe!"

The prince was then wholly distracted with laughing at himself.

"I wish you were our coat of arms instead of the cockerel!"

This time, he responds with a snort, hiding a laugh, and he'll lean close to Maurice, nudging his side. "You'll make me blush, talking like that. I'm not some large, fierce beast worthy of praise. I'm small, my wing span is nothing to brag about, and I have bad eyesight. My only redeeming feature is my skills, and those are hard won." Not that he couldn't say that he was very good at what he did, others of his kind at times asked for help with things that were beyond them, and some dragons could barely work much magic at all, but it was a life skill he had succeeded at out of necessity, even if he liked it. He couldn't say it was all that brag worthy, even if he showed off from time to time.

"If I was your coat of arms, my head would probably be in your dining hall, My lord. While you honor me with your words, I don't think I would like being a trophy. The thought is nice though. Perhaps if the world could value us more as assets than decoration and pests, it would be easier." But he doubted after so long, it wouldn't be so.

"Don't undersell yourself!" Maurice reached out to jab Hanna in the shoulder with his finger. "You are a fanas..fan...fan tas ti cul beast and you should be proud of it!"

He held out his cup. Whether or not his goblet is refilled, he continues piling on the compliments.

"Oh, please! If you were our coat of arms we'd all be into...you know." He rolled his wrist and gestured to the piles of clutter around the main chamber. "Books and scrolls and things like that. Not fast food. Did I tell you that's what our kingdom was founded on? My mother's restaurants? It's...silly if you really really think about it. More wine?"

Maurice suddenly screwed up his face at the thought of it.

"Wretched. I have royal blood in me, I'll just...make...my own country! And be king of it!"

He rubs at the spot he was just prodded, his human skin definitely not as thick as his scales, and was just about to protest the poking when Maurice just continued to mouth off about his greatness. He couldn't even laugh, just poured him more wine and sat, listening.

"It's odd that you had to achieve such greatness to earn your place in a kingdom centered on food. I can't say defeating a dragon is easy. It's not impossible, but...do you have simblings that have done the same? It just seems so dangerous a task..."

And while Maurice isn't perfect, the idea sounds charming. He laughs, good naturedly, and reaches out pat Maurice on the shoulder, "If you did become king, I'd swear my magic to you, my liege. A good king always needs a wizard behind him for advice anyways."

By this point, more wine was ending up on Maurice's tunic than inside of him, but now he had an idea and it was one he had to gesture wildly about to explain.

"Yes! Yes, that would be perfect! And instead of dragging home a thinking speaking being to dice up and throw on the table to be crowned, you would make one hundred thousand copies of our greatest poet's work and--and--" An enormous belch cut him off. "Pardon. And of course I'd need...land. And poets. Maybe the bog. No one is using the bog. No one would look for a colorful dragon in a borg! Borg...ahaha! Aborg! Aborg! That'll be the country's name!"

He slapped the table loudly and laughed, only to sober a moment later.

"I don't know how much I can do about this though." He peered down at his chest and tugged aside his collar to look at the top half of his tattoo. "I surpporse you could...cut it off. A little at a time."

Hanna would have to clean that up later. But still, he didn't think it so much a problem. He wasn't sure he had ever seen the other man quite so enthusiastic about anything when he wasn't angry. "Aborg, that sounds...pleasant? Though, here. Maurice...how about you tell me about it and we can go to the sto- Uh. Your room." Because he feels kind of bad about him having to sleep in a room that is so far away from the main hall of the cave, where it's colder. "Can you make it there if I help you, or do you want to sleep in here tonight?"

He stands, unsure of what to say about Maurice wanting him to remove his tattoo, but it is an interesting idea...he wonders if he could just...draw over it. He could attempt to use the same magic he used to change his colors, but depending on the ink and how deep it was, it might not turn out so good. "Give me your arm, my lord. I'll help you."

Maurice looked up from considering some terrible self-surgery and takes a good few ticks to process the dragon's words.

"My room? We're having a contest! I'm not done!" He slapped the table again and broke into a grin that he thought looked rather cunning. "Have you given up? I won't blame you!"

He eyed Hanna's offered arm and as he did, he felt himself leaning. No! He couldn't show any signs of weakness! Maurice straightened up, puffed up, and took Hanna's arm himself.

"Poor creature, of course I'll guide you to your bed."

"I can still walk straight and I've had quite a bit more. I wouldn't think it'd be wise to try and catch up when you look like you're going to fall over." Now, if the dragon got truly drunk while Maurice was watching, it might be a different story, but he's not, and he grins when the other grabs his arm, pulling him up with more strength than he looked to have in that tiny body. His teeth flash sharp little daggers and he'll nod to Maurice, fanning himself dramatically.

"You'll take me to bed? Oh...I don't know what to say my lord."

"I can wa-AULK!" Maurice's protest turned into a yelp as the lithe wizard yanked him upright as though he were a pup by his scruff. He wobbled there, standing easily a head higher than the wizard but feeling suddenly shaken (and unexpectedly excited???) about the display.

However, now that he stood, he could feel all the wine sloshing uncomfortably in his guts. The cave had always been just a little crooked, hadn't it? It was a cave! A natural formation! It was supposed to be slanted.

He was leaning again, leaning away from Hanna without meaning to.

A second jolt sent him upright though as heat rushed to his face, turning him nearly as pink as the dragon in his proper shape.

"Oh, I should have beheaded you when I had the chance! I can walk! Let me go! Let go!" Maurice commanded this of Hanna while swatting his shoulder. Wait. Where had his glass gone? He'd dropped it at some point.

"Oh, I like that color. Maybe I'll use that one. Tomorrow we can try and get that same color so I can copy it." He laughs, taking a step back away from his offending hand, though not too far away. He doesn't want Maurice to fall either.

"Come on, give me your hand, you shouldn't have any more, I'm calling a tie if that is what gets you to bed more quickly. I don't want to have to baby you tomorrow." Though at this point he probably already will need to. "If you feel sick, I'd prefer you to sleep in here though. It's easier to clean."

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