Page 87 of Badmouths & Bards

Casimine caught her eye and mouthed, “A little.”

Tala tutted, whirling back around. Her braids still hung around her shoulders, only with a new flourish. The tiniest of purple amethysts had been woven in alongside several strands of blue green hair. Casimine had helped her with them before they left after she rejected their requests of seeing her in a proper dress.

“I’d worry less about Avie and more about what Seira is going to say when she learns you two snuck out of your room for the evening,” Tala said with a grin.

“She’ll live,” Ameriden said, stretching his arms above his head as they walked.

“I don’t know, Amer. You are costing her quite a bit of gold,” Casimine teased.

“Water Mother—” Ameriden groaned. “I’ll give her my gold.”

“Oh, no, if anyone’s getting your gold, it’s me!” Casimine laughed.

When they arrived at Tipsy Top, the usual crowd was exactly how Tala remembered. Fran—short for Franchette—the bronze-skinned human bartender waved as they walked in. Familiar faces—young and old—tucked together close around their drinks as laughter bellowed. And most depressing of all was the empty stage with it’s string of tiny lanterns.

“What happened to your performer?” Tala gestured toward the empty stage as she pushed back the hood of her cloak.

“Drank a little too much last night,” Fran explained, pressing defined forearms onto the bar table. “If you know anyone who can play at a moment’s notice, stage is all theirs. I got some people who could really use some dancing.”

Fran gestured to a booth across the bar where a group of young halflings sat. Tala clocked the two halfling girls making heart eyes at each other and immediately got the message.

“Nerves?” Tala asked, already sliding a silver over for her usual.

“They’ve been coming here for weeks,” Fran said. “The brunette’s too scared to make a move.”

“We can do it!” Ameriden said, before ripping his cloak off his head in the most fucking dramatic way.

“You can sing?” Fran asked with a note of skepticism in their expression.

“We can,” Casimine confirmed after a moment. “He brought his own instrument and everything.”

Tala worried about the implication of what it meant once the crowds realized who the two water helfen were, but she relaxed quickly when her brain supplied an important bit of context.

I’m here and Ameriden is here, which means nothing bad can happen to Casimine here.

“Well, let’s see if you can get these feet going.” Fran gestured with their head toward the humble stage. “Climb your way up and get going.”

Ameriden grinned, snatching Casimine by the wrist and hauling him off before Tala could say a word. She chuckled quietly under her breath, thanked Fran for the ale, and made her way to the nearest booth by the stage. She flipped Ameriden off when he tossed their cloaks her way and she grumbled as she stuffed them at the end of the booth. Tala was expecting a big introduction, maybe something with magical lights or the spell they had used to make their voices ten times the normal volume.

Cashmere Fantasy ended up surprising her when they did none of that. Casimine started singing, Ameriden joined with a few simple chords of his lute, and just like magic, music filled the room. They were unjustly good—but Tala had known that since she first heard them play in their room back at the Golden Manor. It was just different seeing the way the heads turned, watching people grow enamored by two of the most grossly talented and charming people Tala had ever seen. It was easy to get lost in watching a room full of people fall in love with them.

It was probably that same magnetism that kept Tala from noticing movement in the corner of her vision. Red hair, baby face, big eyes—

Fuck, it was Avie.

In a cowgirl outfit.

That was…new, but not as new as the way she was walking. Avie was taking up space. Avie, who would mumble apologies if she so much as brushed a hair against a stranger, was pushing through the crowd like she owned the damn room. For a moment, Tala could only stare, because whoever this Avie was, she was obviously not the same one who had left Eshorion so long ago. This Avie closed the distance to her booth with purpose, panting and exuberant as she slammed both palms onto the table.

“Tala!”

“Avie!”

“Look at you! I hardly recognized you! You’re so relaxed! What are those in your hair—I missed you.”

The rapid fire speech wasn’t new as Avie had a tendency to talk that way when excited, but it still momentarily overwhelmed her. The mark along her friend’s cheek was what drew her attention back to some kind of focus.

“I—holy shit, did you get in a fight with a sewing needle?” Tala’s hands were already moving, intent on cupping Avie’s face until she remembered where she was. “What happened to your face?”