Northstar Vale Laughter ain't always the best meds

Anybody wanna get white girl (white wolf?) wasted?

Her first attempts at fermentation had been shoddy, considering she had not been educated in the skills of producing barma much as many of the men in Moonrise had, and produced...unfavorable results. The acrid liquids had been spat out in disgust, the brews thrown out in frustration. 

Finally, finally, Liri had something to show for her efforts in concocting an alcoholic beverage. A mixture of honey, wild grains, and tart spring berries had sat in the darkest corner of her dwelling - occasionally checked by the healer - until at last the scent of it indicated a mind-altering substance rather than a strange juice of sorts. 

Liri took the first experimental sip, sighing to herself as the warmth trickled down her throat to ignite a delicious tingle in her bloodstream. She shook her pale crown slightly, which made her head swim, though the taste was mild and summery.

With a grin of success, the fae tipped back her head and called to anybody within the Vale who might desire to join in her in getting drunk. 

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.

yasss I was hoping for Siqs <3 (tags for reference/visibility)

She's not left to drink in solitude for long, though she's taken a few more expiremental sips before her brother's arrival and greets him with warm affection - curling into his hug and offering a brush of her pale cheek against his in familiarity. In her vague tipsiness it's easy to forget why she withdraws from touch in the first place. 

The healer had no way of knowing his lingering adversity with the shadow named Sorin but she might have reassured him if possible. Whatever connection the two shared laid in a past of abuse and Liri felt such a bond did not make for a productive relationship; no, her attentions have been drawn to the alluring @Vangard as of late. 

Liri doesn't yet know Tsis well enough to attempt a return in his language, just as he is still ignorant to the prose of northern, but the words are familiar as they dance against her auds warmly. 

"Gettin' drunk," she replies, subconsciously slipping into her native tongue, with a lazy drawl of a grin and a thumping of her pale plume against the ground. 

"Barma," she supplies with a dip of her head towards the makeshift bowl. 

"Have some if you'd like, I think it's pretty good," the healer offers in the common tongue, nugding it towards him and managing to only slop a little over the edge. 

---

With their bond reaffirmed, Siqsa watched her slur out some more Inuit, one of the words he caught being ‘Get more’ and the other being ‘lot of drink’. More incredulous at the putting together of it, a chubby snort left the behemoth, a rare sound of a hacked up laugh from him, and he shook his head with “What?” being what flew out next. Whatever this trip of good livin’ she was on, he wanted some. He did feel worry for her for if it was actually okay to do this- it looked almost like the effect of a slow tranquilizer, or some shrooms. But if a juice made this shit happen, musta been some strong shit. 

Well, there goes the worry. 

Nosing over the bowl of juice she offered to him, a curious sniff showed something was in it that made it smell foul. But it was a sweet foul, less dead and rotting and more yum berry. A couple of hesitant laps turned into a couple of heavier ones before he pulled himself back. He didn’t wanna drink up all the good shit, because oh boy. His head started to hurt in a swimmy kinda way, and his stomach bubbled, but somehow expanded. Then after a few minutes, he felt his muscles relax a bit and he felt good.

A careless flop of his head threw his half shut garnets at the hazels browns of his sister’s. “Yo- this is some good shit, Lir- we gotta share this with fuckin- what? Everybody, and shit.”

He liked this.

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.