Galileo had decidedly moved from his darkened corner spot of the tent to a more open area. In truth, the strange new drinks he had been offered were steadily going to his head (which was very unlike him, a seasoned drinker), and he longed for some air. Being careful not to bump into any of the sickeningly happy Solterran public, he wandered into the streaming daylight, and blinked as his foggy eyes adjusted. The worst moment was always the morning after, and going from the darkness of the tent to the ferocious sunlight felt like the morning after indeed.
There was another bar outside, less crowded but still providing the sweet, sweet goods, and Galileo, of course, made his way over again. Blackened, charred-looking antlers dipped in simple greeting to the bartender and with a singular grunt of "that one", Galileo was again under the spell of the liquor.
As he stood for a moment, away from the nattering nags who spoke light-heartedly about their darling foals, he allowed himself to feel -- if only for just a second. It wasn't often that he truly asked himself how he felt, but it was strange, to be at a festival, a party, and to not have the pressures of being the infamous general, nor the Kodarki name to weigh him down. In some ways, it was quite freeing, but in others, it reminded him of a past long since forgotten.
What he didn't notice was the sound of another approaching, standing dangerously close to Galileo's comfort zone. The bartender offered her a drink, and without even looking up, he spoke to her sarcastically and coolly.
"Sure a girl like you can hold a strong drink like that?"
It was still early in the festivities, the sun had crested in the sky and the food and drink were abundant. Nefertari had indulged a little here and there, debating on the benefits of consuming more than a few sun cakes. There were still plenty of hours ahead and the feast tables would be at anyone’s disposal until midnight at least, she had time to decide. So far she had shared pleasantries with several of the lesser celebrated noble denizens of the Solterran court. She’d done all the right things, asking after children and grandchildren and in general putting forth all the proper social graces. She’d done her due diligence in that regard, and after all, it was beneficial to get all those pesky things out of the way.
Presently, the mare found her pistons taking her away from the rows of rich goodies, and with it a reprieve from the fanciful equines who would still ask she be quite lady-like so early in the day. She had to laugh at them, for she knew that each who would ask her such a thing had likely thrown back one if not two delectable drinks before she’d even gotten to say hello. That was one thing she was coming to find delightful about this solar celebration- the liquors flowed as freely as any water could, and she could mingle with any whom she so chose to.
While it was true she often drifted back to the posh and woefully detached, for they were always the most charmed by her sweet smiles and gentle ways, she found it refreshing to seek company among the other denizens of the Day Court. With the streets brimming with good spirits both internally and externally, there would be no greater time to indulge her fancies.
The mare found herself wandering towards the further reaches of the on-goings, a bar set apart from the throngs, but still very much available. There were smatterings of other bodies, all engaged in their own circles, save for a single stallion with drink in hand.
She considered him a moment, the make of his coat and the muscles underneath, his general brooding demeanor. He seemed about as comfortable at the bar as any other presumed soldier she had met, though his eyes held something more jaded. The polished army boys she had encountered in the glittering halls of Solterran ballrooms had never truly seen the horrors of war, and it showed on their fresh faces and in their naïve words. This gentleman knew them, though. Inside and out, she suspected.
Nefertari ordered herself the first drink of the day and as she did so, came within his personal space, something to push his boundaries; for the excitement of it, she supposed. His words rang in her erect audits, slurred with drink and sarcasm. ”Sure a girl like you can hold a strong drink like that?”
She turned to look at him fully and she gave an expression akin to arching a languid brow. Bright golden pools caught his eye as she swirled a deep amber liquid in the glass given to her. She had chosen to pass up the festival specific cocktails, at least for now. Then, with the practiced motion of a woman who had spent many nights with men just as challenging and bitter, she tossed back the whiskey, draining the glass swiftly. The empty crystal made a harsh sound as it connected with the bartop, her tone honeyed as she spoke her reply.
The drink clouds his mind and clutches his thoughts, playing with them like a kitten with a ball of string. As he becomes unravelled and feels the effects of the strange liquids that have been provided by the wondrously generous Solterran crown, he allows himself to bask in the drunken stupor that overwhelmed him. But the voices, oh the voices of these Solterran men and women were so loud. He knew it was a party, but the ringing in his ears made him feel even more dizzy than the drink had done.
He found himself feeling rather peckish, and he sniffed the air obnoxiously. The servers who drifted around the party were too far away, and so with a huff, he resolved to staring at the drink ahead of him. It was only when the equine next to him disappeared off with a friend that he cheekily reached over, stretching his neck to full extent, to steal the remains of the sun cake that had been left by the Solterran. Scoffing it down almost in one go, Galileo let out a mmh of satisfaction. He doesn't even realising he is hovering slightly, an aftereffect of the alcohol.
Galileo was interrupted by the woman he had only a few seconds ago insulted, mid-chew. She made eye contact with him, serious and almost dangerous in her gaze, and for a moment he was scared out of his inebriated state. As she turned away, with one flick of the glass, she had downed the liquid in one.
When she speaks, it is sarcastic, and even drunk, he knows he has been put in his place.
"Well," he slurs a little, though he is still lucid enough to puff his chest and feel impressed by her feat. "Count me told."
"Galileo." He says simply, and directly to the point. Nodding to the place next to him, he gives her permission -- not that she likely needs it -- to be in his company. Though he usually preferred to drink alone, she had so impressed him with her quick wit that he was willing to give her the honour of drinking with him. "Galileo Kodarki, would you believe, third of his name, son of Bagheera, blah-de-blah, nobody gives a shit."
In this state, he forgot his own rule -- never to reveal his full, true name. He had exposed his weak spot, his flank was open to attack.
"And who," he begins with a wobbly glance, "are you?"
-
@Nefertari / takes a lot for the boyo to be drunko lol
The mare watched as the stallion next to her kiped the forgotten sun cake and wolfed it down with a nearly feral, but practiced motion. It was endearing, in a way. She had spent too many days in the light of noble houses and the glitz and glamour (lies of course, always lies) had grown boring. This was refreshing. He humbled himself a bit, acknowledging her earlier statement, and then introduced himself, as if it were the most important thing that he might share with her that afternoon. He levitated only slightly as the drunken words left his lips.
“Galileo. Galileo Kodarki,” he stressed the surname, and something almost akin to a lost pride resonated in it, she thought, a name that once held great value. She tucked that information away for later, in case such a thing came to be useful. “Third of his name, son of Bagheera, blah-de-blah, nobody gives a shit.”
A bright chuckle bubbled from the mare’s throat. The conduct of the stallion was far from what most would consider to be polite for society, but she enjoyed it thoroughly. Invigorating, his blatant disregard for courtesy, though if that was his usual carriage or just a by-product of the drink swirling around in his belly, she was unsure, though the latter seemed far more likely. “And who are you?”
The question was one that the sooty woman was used to answering, but there was something about this stallion that caught her off guard. The question was a challenge she supposed. After all, he had prattled his own name with such gusto, clearly he thought himself to be some person of importance. And who was she to share drinks with him?
A sly smile graced her lips and she held the man’s gaze steady with her golden pools. They flashed with a deep fire beneath their smoky frame.
“Nefertari,”
she said, words flowing like silk. She was unsure if it was that his presentation begged her to give one of equal measure or she simply enjoyed the thrill of teasing him, but she pressed on in her response regardless of reason.
“First of her name, daughter to who gives a damn from House nobility that none care to remember.”
She chuckled again, signaling to the bartender to pour her another drink.
A glass of gold rimmed in delicate sugar appeared before the mare and she eyed it carefully before beginning to drink from it. One could wager there might not be any alcohol present in the chalice, for it tasted sweeter than any nectar from any other fruit that had passed her lips. She took another pull, this one deeper than the first, and the crystals from the precipice of the glass clung to the fair whiskers at the end of her muzzle.
“And you are lucky, Galileo, that those names mean nothing to me.”
She raised her half finished glass in a mock of a toast.
“Let us instead drink as two vibrant people instead of some dull representations of our forgotten families.”
And then she tossed back the last of the golden liquid and slid the empty container back across to the bartender. The warmth of the liquor spread through her belly and settled there, waiting to loosen her tongue.
Her warm chuckle rang in his ears, a little bit sweet, a little bit deafening to the drunken fool he had reduced himself too. What would his parents say? This was no way for a Kodarki to behave. How lucky was he, free from the grasps of the tyranny of family politics.
Through the swirling whirlpools of drunken eyes, he tries to look at her, to take her all in. She is gilded in gold, studded on her knees and face with discs that reflected the midday sun. Her stomach brushed with a darker obsidian, she is the perfect example of hot and cold, of day and night, and of what every woman wished they could be. He hadn't seen a mare that looked so beautiful in a long time.
Of course, he didn't apologise for any of his actions -- not because he was too far gone, but because he was always unapologetic. Galileo did nothing for nobody these days and therefore, could never find himself in the wrong. This mare, however... he found himself (or perhaps, his drunken self) enthralled by her presence.
"Nefertari..." he repeated, letting the word slip off his slurring lips. He paused, narrowing his eyes almost comically to face her. "You're beautiful," he stated. "Are you sure y' aren't a queen or something?"
Distracted by her looks, he found himself staring at her. If she had been some common courtesan, he may have requested her services, but there was a glint in her eye that said she was more than that. Out of the corner of his eye, a band strikes up a tune, and he rolls his head back before hitting it against a wooden post.
"Music!" He said, tripping over the syllables on his tongue. "Music, music, music... darned thing, playing its tunes without any respect for gentle ears like mine." He dramatically rolled his eyes, his woes throwing him into a grumpy state.
Suddenly snapping back up, he remembered his drinking partner. "Nef-.. Neferi.. Nefertari." Pausing, he offered her a grin. "Dance with me, nefarious Nefertari?"
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