I’m so glad you made this~
It had been a while since he just chilled with his sister. He tried to start being more cordial with Sorin, but just looking at the russet reminded him how he looked at Liri, and it just shat on the whole process. And with her trying to keep the Demon from cold waters to cool off, his own remedy was kept at bay until it was clear he could stay healthy long enough to get a swim. The deal was taken in stride, and though he grumbled about it, he didn’t break his promise to her.
Crisp garnets sought his sister out, crown kept eternally low as his snout searched idle for her perfume. Eventually, a press of calling rose to pull him from an unknown path, giving beacon as to where she was. Haste kicked the Dragon into a jagged jog until he came upon the pale ghost outside of a makeshift cave den.
“Sessuo,” he greeted with a warm rumble of baritones, his Tsis his sign of humility before her. Though she taught him some of her Inuit, and he tried using it often with her, his proficiency with it was just piss poor. It wasn’t like he expected her to speak Tsis with him, but he atleast tried to ensure she understood it as she tried to see to him understanding her Inuit.
“Whatcha doin?” His blooden irises skated over the bowl she sipped from, and his curiosity grew. “Is that like a fruit juice or somethin? Is it good?” He made his way over his lethargic sway bringing him close enough to lightly rub his hug to her, and be a bit closer to her experiment, too. Making sure not to get too close, he sat down, feigning nonchalance over his desire to know what made her own excitement a tad bit visible in both body and voice.
The fae didn't realize her northern made little sense to him - she was well on her way to drunk and the old language made perfect sense to her. She only laughed at his confused question, phrased in Tsis, and shook her head - pointing at the bowl as she rolled onto her back, consumed by a fit of giggles.
She tried to stifle her laughter, biting down on her tongue almost painfully as her ribs threatened to crack with the building pressure of withstrained mirth.
The toss of her brother's head and his drunken stumbling over the praise of her brew sent her into new hysterics, just 'cause he was so damn funny when he drank.
After several moments she managed to smother her laughter, regaining her breath shakily.
The healer nodded as she sat up crookedly. "Yes," she enunciated in northern whole-heartedly. Yes, brilliant, everyone should have some.