[image starters] accepting
If there was one thing, village people definitely did better than noble folks, it was celebrations. The sun had long since gone down, but the festivities to honor the Inquisitor's latest feat - defeating a Wyvvern that had been raiding the local sheep herds for month's now - was still in full swing. There was nary a moment, any member of their current party found their hands void of a pint of freshly poured ale and poor Atreion has had at least a couple dozen invitations into various barns and bedrooms so far. Oddly enough, Souveri showed no sign of his infamous jealousy at any of these drunken women, trying to rub their voluptuous bosoms against Atreion's arms, as they kept dragging him to dance after dance around the fire. If anything, he looked fairly amused at the whole display.
When Atreion cast him yet another pleading look, probably in hopes of getting saved from having to dance again, he simply raised his own pint of ale at him, grinning a little lopsided. Emptying the pint, he finally rose on wobbly feet. Yet, when he made his way through the dancing bodies towards the Inquisitor, his steps were light and sure, easily swaying this way and that way to avoid the other dancing couples.
"Young maiden, do you mind leaving this old man this dance", he murmured in a voice, that made the woman in question blush and giggle gleefully, when he leaned over her shoulder from behind. Finally letting go of Atreion's arm, she swirled around to wink at the old mage, before leaving to find herself another willing dance partner.
Before Atreion could say anything at all, Souveri had steered him by the arm away from the large bonfire and behind a barn cast in shadows. Leaning heavily on Atreion's side, the old mage let out a soft chuckle.
"Dear me, one would think she had offered to eat you whole, with how scared you looked earlier. Which would have been a pity, really. You're a delicacy that ought to be savored and enjoyed in small bites at a time..."
Could it be? Oh no. Souveri was drunk.