Debonair
Zoissette walked into the sound of yelling as she walked into the Rising Stones.
Not entirely unusual.
It wasn’t Papalymo scolding Yda for something or another.
Okay, maybe it was a little unusual.
As she got closer to the source of the commotion, she could begin to make out what was being said. The voices were both unfamiliar, and … were rather distinctly all women.
Well, this was starting to become downright bizarre.
She frowned, seeing F’lhaminn standing by the bar, and shot her a quizzical look, making her way over.
“Have you witnessed the scene over yonder?” F’lhaminn said, turning to greet her. When Zoissette shook her head, she continued, “Such is the fate of he who would toy with woman’s hearts. Let us see how Thancred’s silver tongue wags its way out of this one…”
F’lhaminn had a small, wicked smile on her face, and a glint in her eye. Zoissette paused long enough to reach behind the bar and grab a bottle of juice, taking the opportunity to look over where F’lhaminn had returned her attention to.
And what a scene it was.
Thancred was standing near four - no, wait five - women, who were apparently involved in an extremely heated argument. Zoissette considered the situation again. No, she was right the first time, only four were engaged in the argument. The fifth appeared to be trying to monopolize his attention, and his arm.
“Miqo’te man-stealer!” was yelled, responded to with “You’d best watch your tongue!”
“Well, that seems uncalled for,” said Zoissette to nobody in particular, opening her freshly retrieved bottle. She sidled up to the end of the bar, where Higari was standing. The Doman woman turned to Zoissette at her approach, clearly bewildered.
“In Doma, fidelity is a highly prized virtue. Perhaps it is a difference in culture, but this… situation lies outside my comprehension.”
“Oh, it’s a virtue that’s at least paid lip service around here,” said Zoissette. She gestured at the fracas with her hand that was still holding the bottle. “Which I imagine is the cause of this particular evening’s entertainment.”
She gave Higiri a reassuring smile with a head nod, and sidled over to where it seemed almost every Archon in the Scions had gathered to watch the show.
Papalymo looked up from where he was sitting, a mischievous sparkle in his eye as he, too, decided to comment on the scene. “A Primal shackles its faithful with the bonds of eternal devotion, but I fear the power Thancred wields over his admirers is rather more fickle.”
Papalymo chuckled. “Especially when each realizes she is not the sole object of his affection…”
Nearby, Yda was barely holding it together, alternating between covering her mouth and grabbing her sides, trying - and mostly failing - to restrain herself from straight up exploding with laughter. That didn’t mean she wasn’t laughing, though, and Zoissette could just barely catch her words in between the laughs.
“*snort* Hee hee! Ahahaha! Oh gods! Make it stop! My sides are about to burst!”
Zoissette crouched next to Papalymo, giving Yda a wary glance before focusing her attention on the group surrounding Thancred.
“Who’s your money on?” She whispered to him, quietly.
Papalymo looked thoughtful for a moment, resting his hand on his chin, before leaning close to Zoissette and pointing with a head nod to one of the women.
“Anyone running a pot yet?”
The thaumaturge shook his head.
Zoissette slipped him some gil. “Put it on your pick. Link Urianger, see if he wants to place his bets.”
Papalymo just nodded as Zoissette just stood up. Nearby, leaning against the wall, Y’shtola had her arms crossed, and was glaring at the ceiling, clearly exasperated.
“You want in on this action?” asked Zoissette.
Y’stola sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Do we not have more important matters to attend to?” She asked.
Zoissette looked over again at Thancred’s mess just in time to catch one of the women say “He said that I was his favorite muse!”
Zoissette shrugged. “Apparently not.”
Y’shtola scoffed.
“Well, I’m the one who procured the rarest of ores!” one of the women complained.
“Well that’s romantic,” muttered Zoissette to herself, before tapping Papalymo on the shoulder, and pointing at the woman who had said the last. “Better adjust the odds on that one,” she said, and he just nodded again.
She took another swig of her juice. “Maybe I should go rescue him,” she said to nobody in particular, and she made her way over to Thancred.
He appeared to be trying, and failing, to calm the women down as she approached, but whatever he was saying was mostly lost under the yelling until she got close.
“Ladies, please, this is no way to- oh, hello Zoissette!” Zoissette heard from the bard as she got close. The Miqo’te woman at his elbow gently pawed his shoulder and batted her eyelashes.
Looking slyly at Zoissette, she said to Thancred, “Why don’t we leave these others to their squabbling, hm?”
Zoissette just -blinked-, and cleared her throat.
“I was just, er, entertaining some friends!” Thancred said, lamely. “Ahahaha. Oh, gods….”
“You know what?” said Zoissette, changing her mind, “I think maybe I should leave you to it.”
She took a swig of her juice, and returned to where Y’shtola was standing, moving to lean against the wall next to her.
“I thought you were going to attempt to rescue him,” said Y’shtola.
“I was considering it,” she replied. “Make up some emergency that I could use his help with, or maybe tell him Minfilia needed him for some errand.”
She gestured with the bottle at the Miqo’te who was continuing to try to wind her way around Thancred’s arm.
“But I don’t think I am debonair enough to have nearly the charm necessary to compete with that.”
Y’shtola snorted, and Zoissette turned her bottle up, emptying it, and settling in to watch the rest of the night’s entertainment.