[center][h1][color=goldenrod][b]Gears[/b][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][img] https://i.imgur.com/HWP0qbL.gif[/img][/center]
Interactions: Phia [@princess], Menzai [@samreaper]

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The Stormrider was humming with that gentle morning vibration—arcane engines thrumming through the wood like a sleeping beast’s heartbeat. Gears stood behind the skyship’s modest bar, polishing a glass that was already spotless. Again.

She didn't need to breathe, but she let out a little puff of steam anyway. Habit. Ritual. Something to fill the silence. Behind her, bottles of every shape and color were perfectly arranged. She’d just reorganized them this morning for the third time that week.

She set the glass down, hands twitching once as she reached for a rag that wasn’t there. Then she froze. Heard something.

A jingle.

A very [i]jingling jingle.[/i]

Her head snapped up—too fast—a leftover habit from war days, and her eyes locked on the approaching figure.

A woman, if Gears was guessing right. Covered in clothes made from leaves and eclectic little charms. She was pretty, and had gold eyes for pity’s sake. Gold. The Warforged couldn't believe the sight in front of her.

Gears straightened as the stranger approached, glancing once to make sure nothing on the bar could be knocked over. She plastered on her usual greeting face, the one with a faint smile and slightly raised brows that read [i]welcome, but please don’t be weird.[/i]

Then came the marbles.

Clink. Clatter. Plink.

Tiny polished stones, crystals, marbles, and gods know what else—began appearing on the bartop like offerings at a shrine.

Gears blinked.

Twice.

The woman looked up at her with bright, hopeful eyes and said, [color=F97FCA]“Can I… trade these for meats?”[/color]

There was a silence. One tick, two. Then Gears made a soft noise, something between a chuckle and a wheeze from a dusty bellows.

[color=goldenrod]“Oh, hon,”[/color] she said, voice metallic and syrupy with that drawling accent, [color=goldenrod]“you are just somethin’ else, aren’t ya?”[/color]

She reached out, gently nudging one of the marbles with a finger, watching it spin in place. Her tone softened as she spoke again.

[color=goldenrod]“Now don’t get me wrong, these are real cute and all. Prettiest little rock collection I’ve seen since… well, ever! But ah—”[/color] she leaned in a bit, conspiratorially, [color=goldenrod]“—I gotta tell ya, sugar, these knickknacks aren’t gonna getcha very far around here.”[/color]

She tapped the bar twice, then gestured behind her. [color=goldenrod]“What you want is meats, right? You’ll need some actual coin for that, darlin. You know—money? Gold? Silver? Nothin’ too fancy, just... not this.”[/color]

Still, she didn’t sweep the stones away. She left them right where Phia had set them, even slid one a little closer as if to admire it again.

[color=goldenrod]“But tell ya what,”[/color] she added with a wink. [color=goldenrod]"If you are hungry, I’ll pour you a cup of somethin’ warm on the house while you go figure out where your coin purse wandered off to. That sound fair?”[/color]

Just as she pushed the drink forward, a jolt of wind swept through the bar—followed by a blink of light, a shimmer of lavender and pink like a cherry blossom storm, and suddenly there was a wolfboy in a robe striding toward her counter with the confidence of a prince and the grace of a dancer.

Gears stiffened, optics flaring slightly as her hands darted toward the edge of the bar—out of habit, not fear. Just making sure nothing broke, or worse, spilled.

The white-garbed figure moved like a ghost, a whisper on the wind. He didn’t so much walk as glide, and somehow produced a coin from his sleeve with a casual flick that landed perfectly between his fingers. It was either masterful sleight of hand or sorcery—probably both.

She watched the two of them interact—the wood elf in her tangled menagerie of trinkets and the snowy wolf who smelled like lightning and frost—and blinked again. Slowly.

[i]Well, weren’t they a pair.[/i]

Gears crossed her arms, one hip cocked slightly. If she had eyebrows, they’d be halfway up her foreheadplate.

[color=goldenrod]“You two from a traveling circus, orrr...?”[/color] she asked dryly, though there was a teasing note in her voice, like she half-meant it.

The gold coin thunked onto the counter beside the paper, and she gave it a firm but approving nod.

[color=goldenrod]“Alright then. This I can work with,”[/color] she said, sweeping it up. [color=goldenrod]“One order of meats—extra vegetables for balance—and somethin’ strong for the chest, mmkay. Got just the thing steepin’. Hope you like tea that kicks like a mule. It’ll calm ya for sure…just not right away.”[/color]


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