The jaunty and mostly off-key music from the stage faded to a background haze as Drachiathoryx continued to slowly twist the tiny jar in her fingertips, claws clicking lightly on the glass as the purple powder sifted around inside. A little vial, an urn, the substance she had no name for; all that was left of her friend.

Distantly she was aware when Aussir slid into the chair beside her and she shifted her wings and tail automatically to keep them out of his way, all without ever glancing in his direction. Warmth radiated off of her like a sun-warmed stone, moreso than most other Ixens, as though whatever inner turmoil causing the tense scowl on her features simmered tangibly under her skin like hot coals.

To say that the dragoness had been through a lot recently was an understatement, but her ear-frill gave a flick when Aussir spoke to the bartender. Something about his presence began to work through her private fog, a combination of the sound of his voice, the scent of a drake, and the pattern of pale scales on the edge of her vision. 

Her fist clenched protectively around the necklace when he mentioned it, and her ember eyes blinked as her snout turned to face him, her pupils widening and constricting as she took in the sight of the first dragonkin she'd seen up close in a long time. His scales were pale and some small part of her expected him to have frost in his veins, especially when she noticed the blue blush along the trailing edge of many of those white plates, though her cutely flared nostrils told her otherwise.

One of her eyebrows lifted as she looked him over, the corner of her mouth rising to match it as a grin attempted to banish the cloud of tumult she had worn a moment before. The hint of a sly grin suited her much better.

[color=ed1c24]"Thank you,"[/color] she replied, letting the new amulet settle back against her generous cleavage and letting her hand come to rest on the polished countertop. [color=ed1c24]"I tend to prefer red,"[/color] she offered, her wings giving a tiny flex behind her in a motion meant to refer to her own scales, [color=ed1c24]"but every now and then I a make an exception."[/color]

She watched him as he turned to face her, letting her eyes follow the line of his wings behind his shoulders. They were an interesting shape, but she wasn't sure they looked strong enough to mark him as one of the few dragonkin who, like her, could fly.

[color=ed1c24]"I'll have a Drakespur Cider,"[/color] the female ordered, glancing side-long at the sour-faced dwarven barman until she was sure he heard her. She had switched from Draconic to Common with ease, and switched back again as she turned on her seat to face Aussir.

[color=ed1c24]"Well, it certainly isn't the view,"[/color] Drache replied, not even bothering to spare a glance to the rest of the crowd. [color=ed1c24]"Though tonight I'm finding it more difficult to complain."[/color] Her grin spread across her refined snout. The dragoness was hardly in the mood to make new friends tonight, but coming across other half-breeds, especially well-spoken and polite ones who were a treat to look at, was such a rare thing.

[color=ed1c24]"I'm Drachiathoryx. I'm waiting for a friend of mine,"[/color] she went on to explain. [color=ed1c24]"And you? You're looking for work as a bodyguard? If so, I hear this is the place for it."[/color] Her eyes flicked observantly to the hilt of his sword peeking over his shoulderblades.