I'm not as think as you drunk I am [Claira]

[Aviar Montage]

Lavren had not come home yet, and it was nearly eight in the evening. The sun had gone down, so he worried she might have lost her way home. Then again, she had also left ad five in the morning! But Lavren had been gone this long before, and gotten incredibly upset when he went searching. She should have been happy that her brother gave a damn, considering how difficult she could be. But there was nothing he could do now, because he’d made a solemn promise that he would give her three days of independence before he went searching for her if she didn’t return home.

And maybe she was just avoiding him, Aviar tried to use that as a comforting thought. But it didn’t work, and something deep down told him that there was something terribly wrong. So there was only one solution: drink himself into a stupor. That way he would think less about it. And at the rate he was going, it wouldn’t be long before Aviar forgot his name, let alone the fact that his sister had been missing for 15 hours…

He liked the taste of mead. It was very pleasant, and the effects were magnificent. But the thickness could get to him at times. Again, if he’d had enough of it, that little detail would cease to bother him as much. And he was already on his…third pint? His mind was too hazy to think straight right now. And he was really…really tired. Sitting at the bar, a thought struck him. Why weren’t beds as soft as tavern floors? And why didn’t someone discover this anomaly, and make beds out of tavern floorboards?

“Geniush, really…” He slurred, sliding off of his stool and landing with a loud thud on his rear. That was when the owner decided to have a few men escort him from the building. Aviar didn’t bother to struggle…he was too sleepy. But when he was thrown outside, in the dark, onto his rump once more…he woke up a little.

“HMPhg?” He snorted, wiping dirt from his face and sitting up. His mouth tasted like mead, and damned if he didn’t want more. But rules were rules, and it was time to go home. With that in mind, he began to slowly crawl in the direction he was pretty sure led home…though it led into the woods. And he was halfway into the village square before he realized it. “ERgh!” Aviar grunted, rolling about and leaning back on the old statue in the square. Real speech wasn’t worth it at the moment…maybe he should just close his eyes…and go to bed.

[claira]

Another night, another shift. Claira was cleaning off one of the many tables to be found in the Green Boar Tavern, wiping vigorously at the spilled alcohol on the table. Some people preferred to sit alone at the bar and char with her nonsensically, other times, they preferred to sit with friends and make even bigger fools of themselves, laughing at their own jokes and spilling their beverages all over the place. Oh well, at least they had left tips in the middle of the brown liquid Claira was mopping up with an already dirty rag. This wasn’t a fancy hotel, and she could care less about its upkeep.

The bar was moderately busy tonight, and Claira already had a small amount of tips jingling in the pocket of her practically clean beige apron. She wore a black skirt only because it would never appear dirty, and a dark burgundy bustier to attract customers. Or to hide any blood stains, not that a vampire wouldn’t be able to smell it on her. It was already bad enough to have them carefully watching her every move, but her occasional nose bleeds, gave her even more unwanted attention. Being hit on by a local, or even a stranger was better than receiving a vampire’s lustful gaze, even if it was simply bloodlust.

Strolling quickly back to the bar, the pretty blond attended to the various men at the counter. None of them seemed to be of the vampire variety. With Claira always watching her back, she didn’t have the time to figure out who she really was, what her personality entailed. Ironically, she had become what she detested: unpredictable, unruly, ill-tempered, and able to sway what she wanted out of others. This could be a number of things, from time spend alone, or persuaded men into giving her large tips without anything in return.

Her bright eyes happened upon a man she had recently bumped into at the Marketplace. Funny how a bar could turn an otherwise charming man, into a blubbering fool. Claira saw Aviar only for a moment, before gravity had taken hold of him. Looking at her fellow barkeepers, she nodded towards him. “It’s probably best to get that one out of here.” She said, giving the only friends she knew a small grin. It was for Aviar’s own good. “Ah, he’s always doing this to himself...” One of the burly men said, heaving Aviar onto his arm, almost as though he were a ragdoll.

Eyebrows furrowing, Claira wondered if the blond haired man would be okay, wandering around in the middle of the night with God knows what out and about. Setting down the pint in front of her customer, Claira took her tips from her pocket, and slipped off her apron. Margery would be able to handle things while she was gone for a brief moment. No one would question Claira, she knew how to run the place almost as well as the owner, and never left work unless it was for a good reason. If a vampire’s eyes were on her now, they would be after her while she was after Aviar. At least they would see she wasn’t doing anything crazy – like trying to kill vampires.

Stepping through the exit, Claira dusted off her pleated skirt and wondered where the salesman had wondered off to. A smile crept across her face at the thought of him, a totally different man from a few days ago. The darkness of night enveloped the young woman as she walked quickly, obviously beating Aviar in distance covered before she heard some grumbling not far off in the distance. A figure had managed to lie beside the statue in the Village Square, and that mop of messy blond hair gave away who it was. Aviar must have been drunk out of his mind, making a spectacle out of himself would not be good for his business.

Approaching the man, Claira was mindful of the fact that he might vomit on her, and she secretly hoped he had done so already. Why she had left work to check on him, was still uncertain to her. She could blame it on good samaritanship, but so what if the vampires took an idiot like Aviar? There had to be something worth saving that she simply couldn’t put her finger on just yet.

“Aviar, I believe you’re a bit lost...” She said, looking down at the man. He seemed tired, just about ready to pass out on the old statue. Simple speech would be the only thing he could make sense of, and even that was debatable. At least she had found him, now she just had to find a safe spot for him and go back to work, the night was still young after all. Kneeling down in front of him, much like she did with the young girl from the market, Claira couldn’t help the wicked grin that flashed across her face. “Come on, let’s get you home.” She said, reaching out a supporting hand to his shoulder so that he wouldn’t fall. Apparently he had lost his balance as well.

[Aviar Montage]

His mouth tasted of grit, no doubt it was the dirt he’d fallen face-down in earlier. But it also tasted of honey, and that bitterness that came with alcohol. Normally he didn’t drink nearly so much so fast. Most times, it took twice as long to floor himself. There was something truly lacking in the man, though, if he sought comfort in a bottle whenever he was upset or worried. He knew it wasn’t healthy either, nor very much worth it in the morning…

“No, ‘m…Aviar…” He mumbled, wondering how she’d come to think his name was Abbot Lawst. He wasn’t a religious man, anyway, and didn’t think he looked like one. But whoever it was, he couldn’t tell, was grabbing him and forcing the poor merchant to his feet. “I can’t…go to chursch…” He protested, not really struggling at all. That would require far too much energy, which he was trying to focus on speech at the moment. Since when was his tongue half the size of his mouth? That didn’t seem normal. Maybe he was thirsty…

“Drink…” He murmured, shoving his face into her neck (because it smelled quite nice, a lot like mead, actually. That would taste great, he was sure. It would get the taste of older mead out of his mouth, at least.) “Can’t drink in church…” Aviar continued, realizing the priest would probably look down on him if he showed up to mass with a pint. And he wasn’t even dressed for the occasion!

…Was it Sunday? That would be the only reason he’d be forced to attend service. Maybe that Abbot Lawst fellow, wherever he was, would be able to tell him. “C’est…Dimanche?” He continued rambling, reverting back to his mother tongue, because it was far easier.

[claira]

Standing with one arm around the man's waist, Claira was surprised that he wasn't that hard to hold up. Probably because he wasn't that big of a man, only a little taller than herself. The reason was probably because deep down inside, he probably wanted the help. Ignoring the hot breath on her neck, Claira wondered if it would be easier just to put him in the back of the tavern, where no one would hurt him and she could keep working. She couldn't help but grin at his blubberings though, it was almost adorable. "We're not going to church, and you can drink some water." She said, pulling Aviar's arm back and around her neck for extra support.

Taking a few steps forward, accompanied by a few shaky ones from Aviar, Claira pulled herself forward. She couldn't understand what he was saying, probably some more drunken slurs like he had been going on about only moments ago. "Where is your house?" She said, enunciating each word carefully. She stopped walking to look Aviar in the eyes, which were pretty glazed over. So this is what the man spent the money she had given him for the silver bracelet she was now wearing. It had fallen to her wrist, and was currently pressing onto Aviar's hand, which was pressing into Claira's shoulder. Her hand was over his only to make sure it didn't slide anywhere else. He was out of his wits, and his actions couldn't be blamed on a right mind.

Out of the corner of her eye, the blonde saw a figure moving about in the darkness. She grinned, they weren't going to attack, the vampire was probably highly amused at the spectacle. They wouldn't attack her, she was too important. They would believe in their conspiracies until she was dead, but they couldn't kill her if they believed she was the leader of some undergound movement. Looking closely at Aviar, Claira sighed. Was this worth the trouble? "Where do you live? I want to take you home." She said once again, hoping to get the man home safely. She couldn't simply leave him here now, not with something lurking about.

[Aviar Montage]

(For the sake of saving myself the energy to remember how to say the sentences, anything in brackets is French.)

“[Lavren is gone. What would father say, if he knew I’d lost her? I don’t think she’s coming back. If she doesn’t, what will I do?]” Aviar whispered in Claira’s ear, not even aware he was leaning on her shoulder in the first place. He spoke so quickly, even if she’d known French, she would have had trouble understanding. The drink had lost it’s desired effect by now, and was beginning to magnify what he’d wanted to push away. What if something terrible had happened to his twin, out in those woods? She was just a woman, even if she debated the issue. And leaving her to find her way home, he knew each passing second made the possibility of her being dead even greater…

“The Woods. [Help me go there.] Lavren is waiting. [She wants me to find her!]” Aviar straightened up, trying to stand and pull himself away, only to find his knees wobbling. How was it that despite the fact he was such a heavy drinker, and had been since he was fifteen (when his mother discovered him singing about buxom women and hiding games outside of their house at three AM), he was such a lightweight?

“Can’t go home. [My sister could be dead!] Wolves. Rabid deer…Man-sized rats…” Spinning about, miscalculating, and landing back, face-forward in the dirt…he groaned. “Go on without me! [Even if she is alive, she’ll kill me if she sees me like this…] I think I’m going to die…” Aviar whimpered, pulling his legs up to his chest. He was beginning to feel very sick.

[claira]

Whatever he was saying, Claira hadn't the slightest clue. Aviar was being uncooperative and difficult - much like any other drunk would be. She would almost think he was trying to impress her by speaking in some language she didn't know, but if that were the case, he wouldn't have that look of desperation in his eyes. Maybe there was a reason he had been drinking in the first place. Whatever it was, the blonde was not about to let someone who was out of their mind, go wandering around in the forest.

"I don't give a damn who's waiting in the forest! You're drunk, and you shouldn't be out here like this, you could get hurt." She said, although she figured her words were lost on Aviar, who decided now would be a good time to eat some dirt. "What would your customers say about this, huh?" She asked him, this time simply sitting beside him. It was too much trouble to balance him while walking if he wasn't going to agree to let her know where he lived. However, he was probably right about some of the creatures he muttered about. They probably were lurking in the woods some where.

"I think I'm going to die. Claira couldn't help but laugh at this point. "That's what you get for drinking yourself silly." She said, shaking her head, as though she were disappointed in him. "I can't leave you here like this," she said, trying to think of something. It looked like Aviar was about to throw up. Perhaps that would sober him up some. Running her fingers through her hair, she glanced at Aviar thoughtfully. Maybe the best thing would be to just wait it out, and keep an eye on him. He would owe her big time for this.

Unless...

"If you can't go home, then come home with me." She said, seeing if she could play to the part of him that would be willing to be coerced into going home with a woman. At least she could be comfortable, more comfortable than sitting on the cold hard ground anyways.

[Aviar Montage]

Those invisible eyes which always nestled in the forest seemed alight today, piercing the two in the village square. The eyes Aviar Montage didn’t believe in, but felt all the same. And the eyes had done something to his sister, but he couldn’t move to protect her. The world was spinning far too fast to even consider it. “Not drunk. On my death bed.” He defended himself, huddling up in a little ball. What words would they put on his tombstone? A man who lived and died, an elegant creature whom the world had the misfortune to lose too soon? The most handsome and dashing Frenchman to ever grace this village? Aviar Montage: Lady’s Man Extraordinaire? None of them seemed quite good enough, in his mind. It would probably take months to come up with the perfect epitaph, which meant a tomb would have to be erected for him…

“They would say I am a man who has faced great tragedy in my life, and therefore should feel damned inclined to drink as much as I like.” Was his response to her remark. “[And please could you get me another drink, because I’m far too drunk to get it for myself right now.]”

The gentleman in him should have said ‘no, never fear, for I can take myself home. I am a man, and you a lady. You should not feel inclined to serve me unless you were my wife!’ But instead, he just emitted a loud, and very impolite belch. But there wasn’t any puke yet, so he hadn’t lost all of his dignity.

“Go home with you?” He blinked, looking up at her. There were two of them hovering around his eyes. Could he really handle two women right now? It was certainly a nice opportunity. “Okay…but you’ll both have to help me up.” Aviar intoned, letting his head fall back into the dirt.

[claira]

Claira grinned, "Drunk, death bed, what's the difference in the state you're in?" She asked the small little man. Some drunks were hilarious, others were angry. Aviar seemed to be the paranoid kind, the kind that were half insane and half child-like.

Rolling her eyes, Claira wondered just how full of himself the blonde was. "There are people who have suffered more than you." She said, knowing that reasoning with him was hopeless, but at least she was having some kind of fun. It was better than wiping dirty tables and dealing with other men hitting on her. "You owe me for this Aviar." She said after he belched at her. If she had any respect for him, it was slowly starting to decline. Whether or not her opinion of him mattered to him, Claira wasn't sure about.

Judging the situation quickly, Claira helped the man to his feet, and then draped his arm over her shoulder. What was the point of all this again? "If you puke on me Aviar, I swear to God that I will leave you here to be hunted." She said, her mood turning sour. Her house wasn't that far, it was handy to live close to work, both for herself and for those that were after her. Claira was walking at a pace that Aviar wouldn't have been able to keep up with had she not been holding him while she dragged him along.

Reaching into her bosom, Claira took out a large brass key and opened up the large oak door that they had come to. There was garlic stringed all around, and crosses any place the eye settled on. She didn't own a house, just a small space below someone else's residence. It had a fireplace and a bedroom. Within more garlic hung, and there were also small jars filled with other herbs, and animal parts believe to keep vampires at bay. She kept a small wooden steak under her bed at all times, along with a pocket knife. It wasn't just vampires she worried about. She hated spending time in here, and would much rather be outside, where she couldn't be cornered.

Literally waddling into her place, Claira let Aviar fall onto her bed, and went to the kitchen area, grabbing a rusty pot. "Here." She said, putting the pot in his hands. "Keep what needs to come out in here, or I'll wash your face in it." She said, a small smirk dancing on her lips. It was funny how people could become what they hated most.

[Aviar Montage]

Alcohol had reduced him practically to the state of an invalid. If he was going to search for Lavren in the morning, which he had already settled on, he would have to be alert. Aviar made a silent vow right then and there: Never shall I drink again. Now, whether he would keep his word to himself was debatable, but at the moment he was certain that he would. “I fear I can not perform tonight.” Aviar mumbled, knowing that if he owed her…it would have to wait until later. A smart man knew when to throw down the white flag, and when the world had decided to lose it’s center of balance, that was definitely a sign that any sort of sexual activity would not be an option.

“Me, puke on a lady? A gentleman would never do such a thing. Unless she asked him to…” He slurred, blinking two bleary eyes as he tried to turn his head to give her a level stare. It really didn’t do the trick.

As they walked, or rather, Claira walked and Aviar was practically drug, he began to suspect they were not going into the woods tonight…which was only confirmed when he found himself falling into a semi-soft plot of cloth. Laying on his face for a moment, he struggled to roll around onto his back…much like a turtle would do the opposite.

Claira handed him the pot, and he held tightly onto it, his fingers practically turning white. It was to make up for the fact that he felt his strength had left him. It was like he was going slightly numb everywhere, and he could still feel everything…but grasping objects tightly was not really an option.

Aviar grunted, trying the next most difficult task he’d ever done in his life: sit up. His legs waved pathetically below him, off the mattress, as he attempted to gain leverage. And when he did, he immediately leaned forward to retch into the pot. “…Mommy…” He gasped between bouts of puke. Even Aviar had to admit, he'd overdone it a bit on the mead...

[claira]

The journey to her home was interesting, to say the least. Claira grinned, "Oh I'd love to see your performance some time..." She said sarcastically, deciding that yes indeed, Aviar was full of himself and his apparent abilities. Catching his glance, the woman looked like she was about to puke. "Sorry, I'm afraid I'm not into that sort of... play." She said, shaking her head. Just what kind of women had Aviar been with? And just what kind of sexual diseases did he have, parading on his genitals?

Back at her house, Claira wondered why she had bothered to help the man. Perhaps because he was the most interesting man she had come across in a while. Now what that said about him, Claira couldn't say because most men around here were oxen, to put it nicely. Now, she didn't see what she had seen in the market place. The charm was gone, and if this was what he liked doing when he wasn't selling his garbage, she wanted no part of him. Especially since he was wasting her tip money at her place of work, which she would probably gain back in the end. So, her bracelet had been free.

Claira looked away as Aviar finally gave in to that feeling in the pit of his stomach, but she couldn't close her ears to the sound of it hitting the bottom of the pot, nor shut her nose to the smell of mead and stomach acid. Once it seemed like the worst was over, Claira took a rag from the small pile she had of them, and handed it to Aviar. Hopefully his head was clearing up. At that point, without a word, she took the bucket from him and exited the small dwelling. Walking around to the back of the house, the blonde dumped the mess and muttered, "Disgusting."

Walking back to the house, Claira put the pot back next to Aviar on the floor, in case he decided to show off his insides again. Now she searched her kitchen, wondering where her jar of freshly picked chamomile went. Bending down to check the bottom cupboards, she smiled as she reached for just what she was looking for. Next she found a jar of dried ginger, and handed a root to Aviar. "Here, chew on this, it will help with your stomach." She said, putting it delicately into the man's hands. Catching his eyes with her own, she paused. It was strange to meet a man who's hands were softer than her own.

"I'll make you some chamomile tea." She said, turning from him to search for a pot. Claira had a jug of water on a table, which she fetched now and poured into the pot. Setting the wood stove ablaze with the pot on top, the blonde took a seat on one of the two kitchen chairs she had. Obviously, she wasn't used to entertaining guests, nevermind mothering a drunk. "How are you feeling?" She asked, looking at her wrist which felt suddenly bare, however, she was holding a ginger root. Looking at Aviar, Claira realized she had given him her bracelet, the one she bought from him, instead of the ginger.

[Aviar Montage]

He had been drunk plenty of times in his life, for various reasons. So it wasn’t surprising when he surfaced from the pot, after having snatched it up gain, feeling physically better and yet still mentally drained…that he finally managed to direct a less-than-glazed look towards Claira. His mouth tasted like sour honey and bits of apple…which came from the apple he’d eaten that afternoon, he supposed. Aviar had to admit, drinking on an empty stomach never really improved matters.

“My sister…” He mumbled, reaching up to rub his eyes. “She went missing yesterday morning…she’s got a silly rule about three days absence before I’m allowed to go looking…” He explained, as if it would redeem himself in Claira’s eyes that his drinking such a disgusting amount of liquor came with a reason behind it. Most people had reasons to drink, after all, and none of them were good. “I started this evening just to ease my anxiety…but one drink became two…then it became three…” He trailed off. Aviar had never been very good at ‘moderation’. It’s why the purse was usually kept away from him unless he was stocking up on merchandise for the monthly excursion.

When she handed him the bracelet, his vision blurred and then refocused, as he tried to recognize what it was. Not an herb, but the trinket he vaguely remembered selling to her. “Somehow I don’t think this would make very palatable tea.” He remarked, leaning forward to set the pot down slowly. Aviar reached out and offered the bracelet to her.

“Thank you. I am dreadfully sorry about the scene, I don’t-” Aviar stood up in an attempt to make himself appear taller, but ended up slamming his forehead into the corner of a nearby shelf. “AGH!” He practically cursed, putting a hand up to rub it. “[Mother of a donkey’s…]” Aviar trailed off, as he pulled his hand away to reveal a trickle of ruby red. His face visibly paled. He couldn’t handle the sight of blood very well…and quickly lost his footing, falling back onto the mattress.

[claira]

Claira had only been drunk a couple of times in her life, neither of which had she done anything stupid. It was in these states that the vampires had kept an even closer watch on her, as when she came to from her stupor, they were somewhere overhead, smirking at her. It didn't surprise her really, they were almost like guardian angels. She had to wait until they were a little more lenient with her, before she could really start plotting anything against them. Soon, her time would come.

Recognizing that coming-to look from Aviar, the blonde decided to actually pay the man some attention. She was looking at all the different features of his face, wondering why he wasn't brave enough to go after his sister, instead of getting drunk. The former seemed more productive. Claira looked down for a moment, searching the ground for something that wasn't there. She wasn't going to voice her thoughts on Aviar's sister probably be as good as dead if he only started searching after three days. "You don't need to explain yourself to me." She said, wondering if perhaps she would have seen his sister prior to finding him.

A slight red tint had risen to the woman's face, and she reached for her bracelet. "Funny, you're supposed to be the drunk one..." She said, taking it back from him. Slipping the bracelet onto her wrist, she placed the ginger root in the man's hand, and stood from her place to check on the hopefully now boiling water. Her bright brown eyes watched the hundreds of bubbles burst and she fetched a shabby mug from her cupboards, put the fresh chamomile into the cup, and let the hot water wash over the herbs. Just the aroma was relaxing.

Turning to give Aviar the tea, Claira couldn't help but laugh lightly at his hitting his head. "Again, don't apologize," she said, holding the mug out in front of him for him to take once he got his bearings again. "This should help everything in general." She said with a smile. Why was she helping him again? It was now that she noticed the blood on the man's forehead, and some scurrying was heard outside. Stepping to the windows, Claira searched the streets and saw no one. They were definitely close by.

"What does she look like?" Claira asked innocently, "Your sister?" Sure the siblings looked alike, but the barmaid couldn't recall differences between the pointed nose blonde(s) she had seen around the marketplace. With a little bit of luck (which meant Claira would simply ask one of her 'keepers'), they could find what had been the cause of Aviar's overindulgence.

[Aviar Montage]

Blood was such an unclean thing. A distasteful sight, since he was a child and had seen his cousin gored by a wild horse. Whenever he saw it, his mind recalled the event with stark clarity. Of course he’d come to terms with his death, because it happened every day to all manners of people. Some would argue that was a far better way to die than by a wasting disease or childbirth. At any rate, it still wasn’t a fond memory…pushing it from his mind, Aviar shrugged and placed the ginger on his tongue, biting into it. A very strong flavor, but far better than certain other ‘cures’ or ‘treatments’ for the green fairy.

“Well, you work in such an atmosphere…I can imagine the fumes must get to you sometimes.” He remarked dryly, the corner of his mouth turning up. Usually when Aviar joked, if a smile didn’t appear…people thought he was serious. The only major flaw in an otherwise charming (at least in his mind) character.

Taking the cup from her hands, Aviar’s fingers brushed her knuckles. “You have very nice hands. I noticed it when I sold you the bracelet. It’s why it suited you.” He wasn’t flirting, he was being honest. Since his stall was not in operation, the salesman had departed for the moment. “What was that?” He asked, jerking up at the sound she’d rushed off to examine.

Probably rats, or old dogs. Aviar’s nose wrinkled…he hated rats. Scurrying, scampering, filthy creatures with mangy fur and a ceaseless appetite…”My sister?” He suddenly realized she was talking to him again. Focusing at the moment was decidedly more difficult than usual. “My sister…she’s my twin. Her hair is blonde, and kept plaited behind her. She doesn’t smile…” He looked up at the ceiling, eyeing the rafters as if they were absolutely the most fascinating architectural structures he’d ever seen. “She is very pale. She doesn’t like to go outside too often…didn’t….” He paused, frowning. “Doesn’t. The only times she will are in the early mornings, the late evenings, or market day. Otherwise, I can’t drag her from the inn. It’s why I’m worried…”

[claira]

"Exactly, I'm used to such smells by now. Both those that go in, and then come out of the human body." Claira said with a grin, sitting on the bed beside Aviar. It was simply more comfortable than the wooden chairs she had. The bar scene wasn't her career of choice, but the blonde had little choice in the matter. There wasn't a lot to do in Littlewood, especially for a woman. It was better than being a prostitute anyways.

Holding her hands up in front of her, spreading the fingers to have a better look. Her hands were dirty, work worn, and split on some knuckles. Glancing at the man, Claira knew he wasn't trying to push anything on her, there were no objects to be sold in here - she already owned everything. Maybe there was something more to him than she thought before. Maybe he was more than just a conniving salesman. Then again, maybe not. "Thank you." She said simply, stiffly taking the compliment, lowering her hands to clasp the makeshift mattress below her.

It was then that the noise occurred, and Claira made sure that no one was outside. "It's nothing." She said a little to quickly, making no eye contact with Aviar. It was better that he didn't know. Although, maybe bringing him in here wasn't the best idea, she would never know what 'they' would make of him now. "We're not together..." She murmured to herself, knowing that if her 'friends' were really listening in on them right now, they would be able to hear. There wasn't a lot that vampires couldn't do, aside from sleeping.

Claira stayed near the exit, listening intently. As soon as he heard the description of his sister, she snapped her neck towards him again. If she didn't know better, Aviar's sister could be one of them. "Has she always been absent like this?" She asked now, taking a few steps forward to sit on the bed again. The question was both to keep the conversation going, but to judge for herself what kind of sister Aviar really had. Could he really be so blind that he wouldn't even notice that his own sister was a vampire?

Staring straight at Aviar, Claira wondered if maybe he was one of them too. Yet, his eyes weren't like theirs, his nerves... well, he had nerves. No, he couldn't be one of them. The woman held the blonde's eyes without so much as blinking as she thought all this, not breaking contact. She had to be sure she hadn't just invited the undead into her house, as this meant that all the tricks she had protecting herself and her home, wouldn't protect her at all.

[Aviar Montage]

The mattress did not shift as she sat down. She must be very light.. He mused, scooting so as to allow her more space. He was not overly-fond of drinks which seared the tongue, so he simply let the tea rest in his palms, waiting for it to cool a bit more. The steam rose up, tugging at his senses and rousing him a bit. Aviar was a bit more alert now, so sitting up properly suddenly registered with him, and he straightened his spine.

“As much as I appreciate the drink, I can not imagine selling it and having to deal with the overly-friendly nature of drunks in the process. When a man is inebriated, he is far less pleasant company to one who is not.” He stated, shifting the ginger root to the left side of his mouth, and tucking it into his cheek. His breath certainly seemed fresher…

He noted her discomfort at the compliment. Some women basked in them, and even seemed to glow with the results…others shied away. Claira seemed to be the latter of the two, which was somewhat surprising. One would expect a woman who frequented taverns for her career to be a bit more open. Hopefully the girl would open up more on their next encounter, or her company should be somewhat unpleasant. Not that he expected anything intimate, Aviar was a gentleman. But he actually enjoyed lavishing women with pleasantries just to see them blush. There was nothing wrong with innocent flirting. And if it came to something? Well, that was just a benefit of his being a nice person.

Her quick reply about possible intruders caused him to quirk an eyebrow. “You are not married, are you? I don’t relish the idea of a hulking blacksmith or stable master coming home and getting the wrong idea. Not that I’d enjoy it if it was the right idea either.” He joked, knowing full well (now that he was sober) that his ability to fight off anyone was somewhat…well…silly. The only time Aviar actually won in a fight was when he cheated, which wasn’t really a point of pride with him…

Aviar’s attention was drawn back to Claira’s eyes at the question. “Always. She is a midwife, and most of the herbs she gathers are sensitive to the time and season. Our mother was like that as well, but she was smart enough not to spend too much time away from the cottage. Then again, she also had children to look after.” Aviar shrugged, finally deciding it was okay to drink the tea. Still hot, but not as much.

"...Do you have a sister?" Aviar suddenly asked.

[claira]

Claira shrugged, "I'm sure you've witnessed the pleasantries which occur within the tavern..." She said, wondering if Aviar would notice something like her job if he was in there to get drunk himself. Just like everyone else. "I don't really have a choice though." She added, knowing that the man really wouldn't understand. She wasn't sure if she would be any good at it, but she would much prefer to be selling trinkets or food than serving alcohol in a dump.

After taking another scan of the outdoors, Claira couldn't help but grin at Aviar. "I'm glad that's the kind of man you see me with," she said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at him. She raised her left hand for the salesman to see better, "If you noticed my hands before, surely you would have noticed a band around my finger." She said, lowering the hand once more. Perhaps if Aviar had been invited company, she would have received him better, been nicer to him even. This was not the case however, and she felt like if anything, he owed her. If something really was lurking about, it would be worse than any burly man.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Claira said, although her confidence wasn't in the statement. Aviar's sister really could just be going with the seasons, or she could be avoiding the sunlight for a reason so obvious to Claira, it was almost painful that the man hadn't seen it himself. Hadn't he at least heard rumors about vampires and werewolves running this town? "She'll be back before the three days are up." She said with fake enthusiasm, keeping her thoughts to herself: Probably full and ready to play the part again The fact that she didn't have children either... That seemed suspicious.

Aviar's question caught Claira off guard. She really didn't think the information would help him find his sister, but maybe he was just trying to make himself comfortable with her. "No one, I'm alone." This was complimented with a quick smile that faded into the stone face the blonde usually wore. How could she possibly bring up the fact that her older and younger brothers had both been murdered by vampires because they wanted to murder them first? How was she supposed to say that that was why she couldn't get close to anyone, lest they be under watch as well.

"How are you feeling?" Claira asked, showing interest. It wasn't pushed curiosity, Aviar had done nothing wrong to her and she really was interested in the man. If nothing else arose from this, at least she could rest assured that she had saved someone's life.

"I do have to get back to work soon," she said, rising from the bed. Aviar seemed in no shape to do anything productive, but maybe he would go home now.

[Aviar Montage]

“Yes, I have. Certainly not the place a lady should be working. But an honest profession is something to be respected, nonetheless.” He remarked, looking down at his cup and swirling the brew around. The steam had calmed down to a thin wisp. It smelled nice, quite nice actually. In fact, her tea was probably the best he’d tasted. Then again…Aviar didn’t generally drown his sorrow in herb-soaked hot water.

To be honest, now that he thought of it, she seemed far more likely to have the henpecked variety of spouses. A meek little scribe who followed her every direction and had strew on the fireplace ready whenever she came home. The scribe probably wouldn’t be able to afford a wedding band…certainly not from Aviar. When it came to ‘special’ jewelry, he actually sold the good stuff.

“Not all women have wedding bands. They’re quite a luxury…” He said, licking his lips. Aviar had swallowed the ginger by then, and had settled on the idea that he would never drink alcohol again, no matter what…which was of course what any man always said after a bender.

The hour was growing late, and he shifted in his seat, lifting the cup to drain the last dregs. Holding it towards Claira, he nodded his head graciously. “That was wonderful. Thank you. For helping me after I made such a fool of myself in the street.” He eased off of the mattress and rubbed his eyes, stretching back a bit to pop his spine. ‘CRACK’ it echoed, disturbing the odd silence of the room.

“For your trouble, if you ever decide that you like those earrings after all, they’re yours.” He winked. It would be unseemly to stay much longer, if the girl didn’t want patrons whispering about her and making propositions in the morning (serious ones, which he imagined happened when the men were a bit less sober.) “And for the sake of both myself and my sister, I do hope you are right. Lavren is the only person keeping me from getting myself killed doing something stupid. After all, I did just try to go out into the woods not an hour ago…god knows I could have tripped into a ditch in the dark and broken my neck.”

When she said she was alone…he frowned slightly, looking at her. A salesman was an expert at lying, if he was worth his metal (literally, for a jewelry merchant.) The quick reply was quite obviously of that nature…but it was best not to press. After all, they could have died from some sort of disease. Pox…influenza…even consumption. Not so unusual, and not his business either.

“I am much better.” He leaned down and took her hand before she could protest, giving it a quick peck and smiling at her warmly. “I shall not keep you any longer.” He said, turning and striding towards the door. The boards creaked under his feet.

[claira]

“Better than nothing I suppose,” Claira said in agreement, though her voice didn’t show any thankfulness. It was hard to be thankful for something you were literally trapped in, and forced to do. “I would rather be doing something else with my life...” She said, the most insight she had given about her thoughts thus far.

The issue of the ring was true, as the blonde had seen many women around town, who had husbands and often a multitude of children, without the band around their ring finger. “I suppose you’re right, but in any case, I do not have a husband, nor do I ever want one.” There, she had come clean. She actually liked her free time, not having to listen to anyone or become their replacement mothers. Men could cook and clean for themselves, and as Claira’s tiny living quarters could attest to, she wasn’t much of a housewife to being with.

It was the moment Claira had been waiting for, and she took back the cup a little too eagerly. “You are most welcome,” she said, trying to be civil. Not everyone appreciated a fiery spirit, particularly those who were just starting to get out of a stupor.

Managing a smile, the blonde looked up at her company. “When my birthday comes around, I’ll treat myself.” She said to his offer, though the sparkle in her eyes would tell anyone looking at her that she was excited about such a lovely gift. It certainly paid for more than a cup of tea and a ginger root.

Looking at Aviar, Claira wondered if he truly did feel so alone that he only had his sister to hold him together. “And I do hope you consider me someone who can help you steer clear of those stupid situations as well,” she said. It was a sincere statement, but usually those who were set in their habits, didn’t realize the true gifts that had been given to them. Often they are worth more than any jewellery.

The feel of his soft lips on top of her hand showed that he could understand that some things didn’t have a price, and he was actually grateful to her. She nodded once at his warm smile, and watched him head towards the door.

“You know,” she started to say, heading towards the door also, “we may as well walk a little together, I’m heading back to the tavern anyways.” It was a subtle ploy, but one that would work nonetheless. Then she could actually gauge if Aviar was indeed well –and safe.

[Aviar Montage]

“An odd sentiment. I would think marriage was a priority for all women here. And men. Struggling for income is difficult, and the village is so isolated. Lonely.” He mused, looking back at her. After all, he did not always bed women for the fun, but the company as well. Some of them were nice conversationalists. Most weren’t, though, which he wasn’t going to deny. Aviar did not generally sleep with buxom scholars.

There was so much this lady kept to herself. She was incredibly closed, as if she was afraid something bad might happen, were she to open up. God knew what happened in her life to make her so. His eyes roamed over her figure and bearing. She did not hunch over and hide her face, like a girl who had been abused. But she was so…angry. Not outwardly, perhaps, but her eyes did not hold invitation. It was a sad thing to know such a pretty creature with such a likely absence of joy in her life…it was also sad to think that he may have had that in common with her.

Reaching for the door, he began to turn the knob. “Mademoiselle Claira, I do not doubt that I can trust you to do so. But I should hope it does not happen again too soon, or I fear your opinion of me may decline even more.” He smirked quietly, his face hidden as he turned to pull the knob. The door swung open with a long and high squeak. The hinges needed a bit of oil, her noted.

When she made that suggestion…he was given pause. And then slowly, he looked back. “I should like that very much, milady.”

[claira]

"Lonely, yes," Claira agreed, running her hands through her long hair, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to marry a buffoon of a man." She had been through her fair share of proposals. The blonde was still young, and 'ripe' so to speak. There were a lot of homely brunette girls in the village, so Claira stood out like a soar thumb - much like Aviar's sister would. Just because she was proposed to by almost every young man in the village, didn't mean anything to Claira. They were either too stupid, or too aggressive. Those who were nice were boring, and Claira didn't want a mate simply to reproduce. That could be done without a proper relationship.

"We'll see how much more it can decline," she said, her voice only teasing. Grabbing a heavy cloak before she left her abode, Claira offered the man a smile before closing the door behind them. The walk back would be a quick one, and judging from her quick scan of the area, they were utterly alone.

They strode side by side in silence, but Claira didn't mind. She didn't think they had much in common, and thus it would only be awkward to force conversation. Besides, he was probably still suffering from a mild headache due to his previous face. It was strange to behold the many faces of the salesman, even if some of them weren't very pleasant.

"Where are you headed?" She asked as she spotted the tavern from where they were. If he lived farther off, it wouldn't make sense for her to walk him home - surely that would send the wrong message to the man. Claira's hand bumped into the man's for second from her natural stride. She didn't recoil like she normally would have. It was alright to have some human contact that wasn't forced upon her every once in a while.

[Aviar Montage]

A shy breeze came up and tickled Aviar’s ear. He reached up to scratch it absent-mindedly. “I live at the inn, for the moment. So I’m going there. I was hoping to multiply my initial investments here by five before I settle in my own cottage. Probably something near the outcrop of trees over there…” He pointed to the very edge of the forest, which may have been clear…but had spindly shadows creeping over it all the same. “I’d have to pay for it to be built, obviously, but it will be easier for Lavren to…” He looked down at his feet. “She will come back…” He repeated, looking back at her with a stubborn look suddenly set on his face. Aviar would not let himself believe anything could happen to her. Not his sister…

Reaching up to place a hand on his head, and make sure he was not bleeding anymore…which he thankfully wasn’t…Aviar let out a breath. “When we were children, she would go missing for hours at a time. Mother would go missing for days…it drove our father crazy. My mother is Roma. I don’t tell many people that, but I’m confident you won’t tell.” He winked at her. Aviar was not really the sort who would strike anyone as part gypsy, with his fair skin and hair. He was lucky in that respect, though he and his sister both still sported strangely-shaped eyes.

By the time they approached the tavern, which really wasn’t a long walk at all, Aviar had already silently decided not to wait another evening. The moment he parted ways with Claira, he would go into the woods with a torch and a pickaxe. It was the only sharpened weapon in his cart.

Stepping up to the door, he gently pushed it open and moved aside for Claira. “It was a pleasure, meeting you again, Milady.” The idea of rushing into the woods had now permanently rooted itself in his mind, and he almost rushed the words out in one breath when he spoke.

[claira]

Glancing at the open area Aviar wished to live, Claira visibly shuddered. He really was a fool to want to live so far away from the rest of the general population. "You don't like being around the rest of us then?" She asked with a small grin. She could understand why he would want his space - the peace and quiet of being away from the hustle and bustle of the small town could put even the most ravenous heart to rest.

Claira glanced at Aviar, noticing the worry on his face. He was putting on a brave front, but it didn't take a mind reader to see that he would stay up all night waiting for his sister - like a good brother should. "I'm sure she'll come back to you Aviar, she's your sister," the blonde said. She didn't believe her own words. How could she? With the awful relationships she had with her two brothers, no one could really blame her. She would never forgive them for deserting their family in order to fight a battle that would never be won. Not in this lifetime anyways.

Looking ahead of her again, Claira found it strange that someone was putting their confidence in her. The last time she ever had someone confide in her, was when she was a small girl - when she had friends. Now anyone could be an enemy. "I won't, she sounds like a free spirit," she went on to say, trying to point out the Roma in Aviar, but failed to do so. If anything, he seemed out of place. Figuratively speaking, when Claira placed him next to a gypsy in town, there was no resemblance. She didn't really see why it mattered though, not in principle.

Arriving at her place of work, Claira could sense the rush in Aviar's hurried words. "Thank you for walking me back, I'll consider us even now," she said with a small smile. "Oh," she said, "just in case you go off gallivanting by yourself," the blonde was shaking her head and holding back laughter. He would be an idiot to do such a thing at this time of night, especially after being seen with her. Should she tell him something awful could happen to him?

Reaching into her dress pocket, Claira brought out a small, single clove of garlic and placed it in the man's hand. "No, I'm not crazy, just take it so I can have peace of mind," she said, giving Aviar's had a single pat before turning back into the tavern. "Goodnight, Aviar."