[It's as if they're looking at the world's most malodorous mojito. Well, every cocktail deserves a good garnish. If he takes offense at the shift in her expression— which naturally, he does not miss— he doesn't say so; Lae'zel is quite guarded among many of their companions, he's noted; she's far from home and their situation is one that she, specifically, has been brought up to dread in particular. He would be quite surprised if she were otherwise, but the fact that she's allowing him to join her for this is, in his opinion, a show of trust.
Or perhaps she just thinks his 'inevitable' suffering as a result of drinking this concoction of hers will be worth whatever passes for a laugh, for Githyanki.]
It looks as though you've done some fine work.
[He'll refrain from complaining about the smell more than he already has— he had asked to be here.]
I do appreciate your concern for my delicate constitution. [Just a smidge of sarcasm, there.] Thank you, all the same. Besides, this is your ritual— far be it from me to deny you the first sip.
[ Bro you're gonna make me cry actually understanding where Lae'zel is coming from instead of just talking about she's rude and weird :sob: While Lae'zel does not need Gale's praise, she takes it all the same. He may be a bookish human, but he is learned in many ways, so his words must not be completely hollow. ]
It lacks several key ingredients, but I have learned to make do.
[ Lae'zel scoops some of her concoction into two cups, taking the closer one and sipping from it thoughtfully. ]
Hm.
[ It tastes like fire and ice, liquid and pain. Not quite the kind of pain she was expecting, judging by her thoughtful expression, but her frown doesn't deepen to a scowl. It's nostalgic, but also not. Wrong, but perhaps she'll need to get used to that. The wrongness of Faerun is a constant companion now, after all. ]
It is not terrible, though it lacks the kick I am accustomed to. Perhaps you will survive, after all.
[ She takes the other cup and holds it out to Gale. Your turn, buddy. ]
[He offers her his most winsome smile as he takes the cup from it, holding it up in a mockery of a toast before taking in a sharp breath and preparing himself to partake.]
Bottoms up!
[Despite his declaration, he is a bit restrained as he samples it, taking a long, measured sip rather than downing the whole thing recklessly. For a moment, his expression remains neutral, curious, his brow furrowing for a brief moment in thought— and then it starts.
It hits him all at once, the furious burning of the liquid as it makes its way down his throat, and yet he feels himself going raw as though cut by jagged ice. It's even stronger than the potent smell had promised, and while he does swallow most of it down, he sputters and leans forward as he wheezes, catching his hand against his thigh to keep himself from topping forward entirely.]
That's—
[It must be what pure alcohol tastes like, he thinks, thanks to the burn.]
[ Lae'zel smiles to watch him struggle with it. It reminds her of her youth, and how many of her crechemates that fared similarly on their first taste. Even she had floundered at the first sip, years ago.
It's nostalgic. Almost painfully so, though perhaps that's the leftover burn from the drink. ]
A liquid flame to rival a red dragon's breath, as I explained.
[ She smiles, smug and proud. ]
What say you? Not too much for your human sensibilities, is it?
[He struggles to find the words, partly because it's so difficult to describe, but also because every inch of his throat continues to burn, raw. He tastes— is that copper?
He shakes his head a bit, blinking the threat of tears from his eyes. She hadn't minced words— it was not her way, of course— but still.]
Quite something, that's for certain. I'm still standing, so that's perhaps better than you might have expected. I think I will have some of that cheese, though.
[He's just going to help himself to breaking off a piece, maybe it will do something for that blasted burn.]
Unsurprisingly, your people are made of sterner stuff.
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no subject
Or perhaps she just thinks his 'inevitable' suffering as a result of drinking this concoction of hers will be worth whatever passes for a laugh, for Githyanki.]
It looks as though you've done some fine work.
[He'll refrain from complaining about the smell more than he already has— he had asked to be here.]
I do appreciate your concern for my delicate constitution. [Just a smidge of sarcasm, there.] Thank you, all the same. Besides, this is your ritual— far be it from me to deny you the first sip.
no subject
Bro you're gonna make me cry actually understanding where Lae'zel is coming from instead of just talking about she's rude and weird :sob:While Lae'zel does not need Gale's praise, she takes it all the same. He may be a bookish human, but he is learned in many ways, so his words must not be completely hollow. ]It lacks several key ingredients, but I have learned to make do.
[ Lae'zel scoops some of her concoction into two cups, taking the closer one and sipping from it thoughtfully. ]
Hm.
[ It tastes like fire and ice, liquid and pain. Not quite the kind of pain she was expecting, judging by her thoughtful expression, but her frown doesn't deepen to a scowl. It's nostalgic, but also not. Wrong, but perhaps she'll need to get used to that. The wrongness of Faerun is a constant companion now, after all. ]
It is not terrible, though it lacks the kick I am accustomed to. Perhaps you will survive, after all.
[ She takes the other cup and holds it out to Gale. Your turn, buddy. ]
no subject
Well then— the moment of truth, yes?
[He offers her his most winsome smile as he takes the cup from it, holding it up in a mockery of a toast before taking in a sharp breath and preparing himself to partake.]
Bottoms up!
[Despite his declaration, he is a bit restrained as he samples it, taking a long, measured sip rather than downing the whole thing recklessly. For a moment, his expression remains neutral, curious, his brow furrowing for a brief moment in thought— and then it starts.
It hits him all at once, the furious burning of the liquid as it makes its way down his throat, and yet he feels himself going raw as though cut by jagged ice. It's even stronger than the potent smell had promised, and while he does swallow most of it down, he sputters and leans forward as he wheezes, catching his hand against his thigh to keep himself from topping forward entirely.]
That's—
[It must be what pure alcohol tastes like, he thinks, thanks to the burn.]
Powerful.
no subject
It's nostalgic. Almost painfully so, though perhaps that's the leftover burn from the drink. ]
A liquid flame to rival a red dragon's breath, as I explained.
[ She smiles, smug and proud. ]
What say you? Not too much for your human sensibilities, is it?
no subject
[He struggles to find the words, partly because it's so difficult to describe, but also because every inch of his throat continues to burn, raw. He tastes— is that copper?
He shakes his head a bit, blinking the threat of tears from his eyes. She hadn't minced words— it was not her way, of course— but still.]
Quite something, that's for certain. I'm still standing, so that's perhaps better than you might have expected. I think I will have some of that cheese, though.
[He's just going to help himself to breaking off a piece, maybe it will do something for that blasted burn.]
Unsurprisingly, your people are made of sterner stuff.