2/21/2026, 12:41 AM
she'd been put up right nice. truth be told, though she still aspired to a place of her own, the inn would be a much better starting point than the manor.
maggie wouldn't quite feel moved-in until she had brought her sparse belongings over, but for tonight it mattered not a wit. there were warm bodies, a blazing warmth in the air, song, dance -- and drink.
ah!
first there was lyra. pretty gal, wild in the eyes. belonging to mal or him to her or somesuch, but certainly wasn't no marriage that maggie could see. half the sprats in this place belonged to her, which made sense and gave the harlot no pause. plenty a child grew up in such a place and turned out fine.
a saltdog of a man sang, and his swaying scarf drew maggie's contemplative gaze. bards had wealth to spend; it wouldn't hurt to get close, see what he had. first name on the proverbial dance card.
another drink.
there was another woman about, small, unknowable. for now, upstairs with the little ones?
tall, dark, stoic. another inn-member. handsome, with a faraway look. maggie sparkled in his direction if he looked her way, leaning forward brazenly. her gaze followed him up and down the stairs, then to a slow start of dancing.
another drink. another name.
a wolf with a nub of a tail and an unreadable expression mixed something, dodged the dancers, carried it away. intriguing. maggie drank again, raising raucous voice to belt out the lyrics.
a child running amuck upstairs. a beautiful woman joined their partying, and the doxy's curiosity carried a slight edge of challenge.
a tall man, muscled and quiet, entered the inn thereafter, and earned another grin from maggie. an elder as well! speaking a language she did not know at all. but the harlot drank to her all the same, the spirit of such a scene overtaking her. the man who danced spoke it, however, and she watched their interaction with some curiosity.
mal spoke to the lovely stranger. maggie turned her attention there, wondering now if the innkeeper meant to talk her sweet into the upstairs. but then an equally pretty newcomer showed himself, and the scent of salt suggested more than that wink did. odd.
another drink. another name. her head swam delightfully.
a pretty woman speckled with starlight and smelling of herbs was next to come through the door, accompanied by a younger she-wolf with oaken eyes and a tall boy. friends of the inn, maggie decided, and unused to this sort of thing from the reactions she could observe. they certainly seemed united as a trio
more of that low, fast language. the beautiful man was talking lyra up now, and maggie smirked.
another drink, and then she was pushing away from the bar to mingle.
maggie wouldn't quite feel moved-in until she had brought her sparse belongings over, but for tonight it mattered not a wit. there were warm bodies, a blazing warmth in the air, song, dance -- and drink.
ah!
tup me,she exclaimed when throat had been properly scoured by the brew. back to the bar then, turning to watch.
first there was lyra. pretty gal, wild in the eyes. belonging to mal or him to her or somesuch, but certainly wasn't no marriage that maggie could see. half the sprats in this place belonged to her, which made sense and gave the harlot no pause. plenty a child grew up in such a place and turned out fine.
a saltdog of a man sang, and his swaying scarf drew maggie's contemplative gaze. bards had wealth to spend; it wouldn't hurt to get close, see what he had. first name on the proverbial dance card.
another drink.
there was another woman about, small, unknowable. for now, upstairs with the little ones?
tall, dark, stoic. another inn-member. handsome, with a faraway look. maggie sparkled in his direction if he looked her way, leaning forward brazenly. her gaze followed him up and down the stairs, then to a slow start of dancing.
another drink. another name.
a wolf with a nub of a tail and an unreadable expression mixed something, dodged the dancers, carried it away. intriguing. maggie drank again, raising raucous voice to belt out the lyrics.
a child running amuck upstairs. a beautiful woman joined their partying, and the doxy's curiosity carried a slight edge of challenge.
a tall man, muscled and quiet, entered the inn thereafter, and earned another grin from maggie. an elder as well! speaking a language she did not know at all. but the harlot drank to her all the same, the spirit of such a scene overtaking her. the man who danced spoke it, however, and she watched their interaction with some curiosity.
mal spoke to the lovely stranger. maggie turned her attention there, wondering now if the innkeeper meant to talk her sweet into the upstairs. but then an equally pretty newcomer showed himself, and the scent of salt suggested more than that wink did. odd.
another drink. another name. her head swam delightfully.
a pretty woman speckled with starlight and smelling of herbs was next to come through the door, accompanied by a younger she-wolf with oaken eyes and a tall boy. friends of the inn, maggie decided, and unused to this sort of thing from the reactions she could observe. they certainly seemed united as a trio
more of that low, fast language. the beautiful man was talking lyra up now, and maggie smirked.
another drink, and then she was pushing away from the bar to mingle.