It had been a rough few seasons for Steel. At least, socially so.
While she was afforded room, board and welcome amongst the Red Wings far easier than she had thought it possible, she still was out in the wind at matters of the heart. Twice in recent memory she had thought a connection was being made, and twice she was fooled. Another pair of failures in a long line. The passing Valentione's Day and Little Ladies' Day festivities had done little to salve her mood, as she watched in every major city street as objects of affection and adoration were fawned over.
It had made her sick. And now, on her near third bottle of rum, it had made her angry.
She began drinking alone at the Quicksand, her very demeanor issuing a palpable, invisible fire enough that nobody in the establishment approached her. Now, though, she was beyond three sheets to the wind and was "kindly" told by Momodi to leave. She staggered outside of the Quicksand, bottle of swill in her hand as she roared in to the night sky and the walls of Ul'dah, her voice lilting through slurred anger.
"Sod all'a yew! Thinkin' I'm not a woman, eh? Just another notch on yer belt? Eh? Or maybe ye'll ignore meh like Bryn had done. Or mayhap ye'll look from afar, aye. Oh yeah, she's a reaaaal juicy one, that one is. Things I'd do to'er, eh boys? EH?!"
She tore off her long overcoat, flaunting her halter top as she spoke before throwing the garment down and taking another long pull from her swill.
"Well how's 'bout someone come an' let me make a notch'on my belt? Ye fahkin' loogit me like I'm a maiden. Come fight me like a woman! Try'n stahp me! TRY AND STOP ME!!"
The final words were punctuated with stomps on her overcoat as she coughed back a sob and drowned it with another pull from the bottle. Despite her halter top, a pair of what appeared to be Doman pants and her bottle, the woman was otherwise unarmed as far as anyone could see.
At least, as unarmed as a near eight fulm tall over 200 ponze Roegadyn woman could be.
A pair of onlookers stopped at the spectacle, then dashed away as her gaze turned challengingly to them. Who, then, could calm down this tempest? Could you tame a wolf?
While she was afforded room, board and welcome amongst the Red Wings far easier than she had thought it possible, she still was out in the wind at matters of the heart. Twice in recent memory she had thought a connection was being made, and twice she was fooled. Another pair of failures in a long line. The passing Valentione's Day and Little Ladies' Day festivities had done little to salve her mood, as she watched in every major city street as objects of affection and adoration were fawned over.
It had made her sick. And now, on her near third bottle of rum, it had made her angry.
She began drinking alone at the Quicksand, her very demeanor issuing a palpable, invisible fire enough that nobody in the establishment approached her. Now, though, she was beyond three sheets to the wind and was "kindly" told by Momodi to leave. She staggered outside of the Quicksand, bottle of swill in her hand as she roared in to the night sky and the walls of Ul'dah, her voice lilting through slurred anger.
"Sod all'a yew! Thinkin' I'm not a woman, eh? Just another notch on yer belt? Eh? Or maybe ye'll ignore meh like Bryn had done. Or mayhap ye'll look from afar, aye. Oh yeah, she's a reaaaal juicy one, that one is. Things I'd do to'er, eh boys? EH?!"
She tore off her long overcoat, flaunting her halter top as she spoke before throwing the garment down and taking another long pull from her swill.
"Well how's 'bout someone come an' let me make a notch'on my belt? Ye fahkin' loogit me like I'm a maiden. Come fight me like a woman! Try'n stahp me! TRY AND STOP ME!!"
The final words were punctuated with stomps on her overcoat as she coughed back a sob and drowned it with another pull from the bottle. Despite her halter top, a pair of what appeared to be Doman pants and her bottle, the woman was otherwise unarmed as far as anyone could see.
At least, as unarmed as a near eight fulm tall over 200 ponze Roegadyn woman could be.
A pair of onlookers stopped at the spectacle, then dashed away as her gaze turned challengingly to them. Who, then, could calm down this tempest? Could you tame a wolf?
