It was a night to be celebrated much more vigorously than most that?d come before. Not even the very night this fiery gypsy wind had blown into RhyDin had the witchling indulged so heavily in her good ale and amber liquors. Earlier in the night she?d stumbled into the Red Dragon with her Lankier half in tow; that mischievous younger sibling Brishen. Her voice lifted about Mokksha and Fen?s upcoming affair, and the pride she?d taken in part to help aid the protection of the lovers on their most special of days. After a good bout of jovial banter with the resident Irish Rose, Niamh, and a few more drinks, the Botticelli Buxom had disappeared for a lengthy bit of time, mumbling to herself in a rather sober manner about someone messing with her wards?.
Later, much like earlier, Lilliana breezed on into the bar, low leveled bottle of Rum in hand, bouncing around on merry feet in a flurry of twirling skirts like the flashy bit of gypsy magic she was. Flirtatious to the core, she bounced down onto a stool beside the resident, lush cowboy, Reap. Shamelessly sly bits of wordplay were strewn back and forth between the chummy companions before the bright haired witch professed a desire for a dance. Declining with his usual face of distaste for something he preferred not to do, the Dirty Cowboy broke out onto the porch for a smoke. Amber eyes soon found themselves looking for a likely target for her amorous intentions for a good bit of dancing.
Unbeknownst to the fiery one, dark eyes set in a lean, quiet frame caught her earlier antics, and queried with a flicker of his gaze to the tendress and the good local doctor as to the harmlessness of the gypsy. With a grace most unusual for a liquored up lass, Lilli strolled over in those matte leather boots towards the calm gent as he sipped his brandy. A light tap on the gentleman?s shoulder was given, and pearly teeth split a pretty, genial grin towards the quiet one. Brief introductions were exchanged, softer and briefer on Tag?s part than Lilli?s, though that didn?t deter the social butterfly in the slightest, and the pair soon formed a neat couple upon the more open space of the floor. He was reserved, slight, dark haired, and had skin that spoke of a life known to hours labored under the sun with strong, capable hands. She was bonny, plump, bright haired, and had pale, dappled skin that whispered of softness from a life of relative comfort without true physical exertion. His hands held a warm roughness, hers catered to a deft cleverness best suited for a witchy trade such as her?s. Quite the contrasting pair on the dance floor really.
Their steps, with Tag?s lead, spoke of an improvised, mildly paced ballroom gait. Though taciturn and thoughtful in his words, there was no mistaking this man for shy, for he lead the buxom gypsy around with fair ease for such a step unused to more vigorous forms of dance. Those who knew the fiery lass would notice that, despite the pretty, drunken flush to her apple cheeks, she was rather calm; no doubt it was a side affect of her dance partner?s cool, quiet demeanor. Though no amount of tranquility would quell Lilli?s coquettish nature, and the sly, flirty manner of her silvery tongue lashed out softly here and there between the mild bout of conversation. Upon their exchange of job talk, the slippery gypsy unwound herself gracefully from Tag?s poised hold upon her waist and hand, bidding an impassioned good night; molten amber hues stole quietly into dark ones for a long moment.
Lilli left the gentle farewell with the bold, non-negotiable statement that she?d like to hear more of Tag when he came by to see her again. The brass little thing then passed the quietly amused ranch hand in a soft brush of skirts to his pants, a subtle look cast over the bare curve of the buxom's shoulder; it was a knowing gaze, unabashed in her charming curiosity, though in no way an open invitation to further engagement for the evening. That second, hushed good night was just barely caught by the fiery buxom as her fingers wiggled over backwards to Tag while he reclaimed his earlier seat. Amber eyes reversed blindly through the curtain of her hair, unbeknownst to darker ones as they gave a last, flickering query to her departing figure.
Later, much like earlier, Lilliana breezed on into the bar, low leveled bottle of Rum in hand, bouncing around on merry feet in a flurry of twirling skirts like the flashy bit of gypsy magic she was. Flirtatious to the core, she bounced down onto a stool beside the resident, lush cowboy, Reap. Shamelessly sly bits of wordplay were strewn back and forth between the chummy companions before the bright haired witch professed a desire for a dance. Declining with his usual face of distaste for something he preferred not to do, the Dirty Cowboy broke out onto the porch for a smoke. Amber eyes soon found themselves looking for a likely target for her amorous intentions for a good bit of dancing.
Unbeknownst to the fiery one, dark eyes set in a lean, quiet frame caught her earlier antics, and queried with a flicker of his gaze to the tendress and the good local doctor as to the harmlessness of the gypsy. With a grace most unusual for a liquored up lass, Lilli strolled over in those matte leather boots towards the calm gent as he sipped his brandy. A light tap on the gentleman?s shoulder was given, and pearly teeth split a pretty, genial grin towards the quiet one. Brief introductions were exchanged, softer and briefer on Tag?s part than Lilli?s, though that didn?t deter the social butterfly in the slightest, and the pair soon formed a neat couple upon the more open space of the floor. He was reserved, slight, dark haired, and had skin that spoke of a life known to hours labored under the sun with strong, capable hands. She was bonny, plump, bright haired, and had pale, dappled skin that whispered of softness from a life of relative comfort without true physical exertion. His hands held a warm roughness, hers catered to a deft cleverness best suited for a witchy trade such as her?s. Quite the contrasting pair on the dance floor really.
Their steps, with Tag?s lead, spoke of an improvised, mildly paced ballroom gait. Though taciturn and thoughtful in his words, there was no mistaking this man for shy, for he lead the buxom gypsy around with fair ease for such a step unused to more vigorous forms of dance. Those who knew the fiery lass would notice that, despite the pretty, drunken flush to her apple cheeks, she was rather calm; no doubt it was a side affect of her dance partner?s cool, quiet demeanor. Though no amount of tranquility would quell Lilli?s coquettish nature, and the sly, flirty manner of her silvery tongue lashed out softly here and there between the mild bout of conversation. Upon their exchange of job talk, the slippery gypsy unwound herself gracefully from Tag?s poised hold upon her waist and hand, bidding an impassioned good night; molten amber hues stole quietly into dark ones for a long moment.
Lilli left the gentle farewell with the bold, non-negotiable statement that she?d like to hear more of Tag when he came by to see her again. The brass little thing then passed the quietly amused ranch hand in a soft brush of skirts to his pants, a subtle look cast over the bare curve of the buxom's shoulder; it was a knowing gaze, unabashed in her charming curiosity, though in no way an open invitation to further engagement for the evening. That second, hushed good night was just barely caught by the fiery buxom as her fingers wiggled over backwards to Tag while he reclaimed his earlier seat. Amber eyes reversed blindly through the curtain of her hair, unbeknownst to darker ones as they gave a last, flickering query to her departing figure.