A Different Sort of Monarch

Saxifrage, Punch, Dangeon, Peridiscus, Gage/Rona

Though dusk has not fully settled upon the island, Saxifrage has begun to challenge the impinging dark. The chore of lighting lanterns in the hotel is a laborious one. As the jill steps from the corridor into the room, she wipes a bead of fatigue from her brow, before climbing a bar stool to better reach the hanging lanterns above. She gently opens a hinged pane in each fixture, revealing the candle inside, and ignites its wick with a smoldering little torch in her other hand.

"A-am I still welcome?" Punch has not shown his face at the Knothill since his angry words of the other day, and that face duly bears the imprint of contrition. He lingers by the threshold, hooked to the frame of the arched doorway by a single arm.

Apparently it's not really safe to drink in the boat-shaped pub that she'd ventured into once or twice when she'd first arrived on the island- a mere lieutenant of something or other (Who knew the proper title? It was just the pay she was after)- and so, for a couple of days, the doe has been directed here. Also, apparently, it wasn't proper to spend /so much/ time in a bar, so her hours venturing here have been carefully scheduled. At least, when she arrives has; there's no talk of when she'll be departing. The haremaid has made somewhat a compromise for today; she's in a dress and it's... not peasant wear. She might pass for a Lady in the green garment, but it's not exactly 'Queenly'. It skirts her ankles (though there's enough foot there that she's in no danger of tripping- yet anyway) and she's agreed to wear a simple, golden, necklace, set with a very small center-piece of onyx. The haremaid sort of 'looms', unintentionally, behind Punch; she wants to come in but seems to have retained 'common' politeness, forgetting her own status. [Dangeon]

Peridiscus is tending the bar, wearing the subdued black clothing he favors while on duty. Polishing a wine glass behind the bar with a black towel, the polecat glances up at the quavering voice. He blinks for a moment before remembering his friendly smile. "Good evening, sir. It's pleasant to see you again."

The entrants catch Saxifrage off guard. Lurching like somebody used to phantom voices, the jill singes herself when Punch speaks. She chomps her bottom lip to disguise the sting and stifle her yelp, then shuts the little pane. "It is hardly at our discretion who is welcome here and who is not." Nimbly hopping from the stool rung, she turns to find Punch, and also spots his companion. "Oh, Your Majesty!" The jill drops into a curtsey, careful to keep the torch, which she still grips in one hand, away from her clothing.

Punch is as startled as Saxifrage. Either the queen is particularly adept at stealth, or his blanket of guilt has dulled his senses. A cursory wave to Peridiscus is all he manages before unclasping the wall and spinning to face Dangeon, to whom he bows and grovels. "Y-y-your-your M-majesty," he says, ruffled by the shock. "I-I--" He masks his confusion with another bow.

"Oh, balls t' that." Dangeon mumbles, looking a little confused herself for a moment. It's just a moment before her statement that's forgotten who they mean and upon realising, she's a little discomforted by it. "Yes, yes... Thought leavin' the bally crown at 'ome might jolly well keep that sort o' thing away." She tries to urge Punch back up with a frantic paw wave but smiles, slightly apologetically, at the others. "G'day all... 'M jus' lookin' for some tucker and a bloomin' drink, not a... uh, session 'f court or wotever y' lot call it."

Peridiscus debates for a moment the relative merits of offering his courtesies to Dangeon right at the moment, while Punch is groveling in front of her, or waiting until she was properly in the room. Finally, he gives a small belated bow to the queen from his position behind the bar, and he offers a small understanding sympathetic smile to the queen.

Saxifrage sheepishly rights herself. "Please--have a seat, majesty," she signals. "Anselm didn't inform us of your visit." The jill steps back a pace, permitting the queen to select a suitable stool. "But Peridiscus will be happy to deliver you drink, and I am sure there is still warm dinner in the kitchen--in fact, I'll, I'll go check." While delicately polite, Saxifrage is flustered by the occasion. She scurries for the arch, nearly bowling Punch over.

At the queen's (very gentle) rebuke, a hint of offense colors Punch's visage. He gamely tries to conceal it behind yet another species of contrite facial arrangement. "Y-yes, of-of course. Y-yes, I--yes, n-naturally I sh-sh-should keep such d-displays to the-the appro..." he rambles on a bit, following, desultory and unheard, in the wake of first Saxifrage then Dangeon.

Peridiscus bows courteously to Dangeon again as she approaches the bar. "How may I serve Your Highness?"

"C'me and have a drink, eh?" The doe suggests to Punch. She's still, clearly, not all that used to him just... being him or any of this ceremonial stuff she keeps encountering. The queen plonks herself down, rather unlady-like, long legs casually wrapping a stool. She manages to give not much more than a nod to Saxifrage as she hurries past, before turning to smile, almost relieved, at Peridiscus. "Uh, nice simple warm ale, if y' please." It's certainly not fancy... and she seems to be fumbling as though looking for a purse.

Punch mutely accepts the queen's offer. He slides up beside her and takes a stool as well, delicately perching his slender frame atop it. He smiles at Peridiscus.

"Of course, Your Highness." Peridiscus proceeds to find a pint-sized mug, guessing that the earlier protests against formality by the queen probably indicate that she is not the type of lady who wishes to imbibe her beer from stemmed glassware. He pours one of the hotel's finer brews for her and sets the mug in front of her. "And for you, sir?" He looks at Punch, returning the rat's smile.

"A, uh. A, uh. The-the same," He flashes the smile again, then lets his eyes fall abruptly to the countertop like a stone dropping into a stomach.

Soon enough, a similar mug of ale is also set in front of Punch. The polecat bows to them both once again in some awkward spasm of nervous formality, and then turns to perform some more (strictly speaking, delayable) bar maintenance tasks. The hob nervously pushes up his spectacles, hoping that he would not be required to make bartender small-talk.

When the others have situated themselves and beverages have been doled, Saxifrage reenters. "Should only be a moment, ma'am," she tells Dangeon, still clenching the torch. With a smug nod, the jill then resumes her chore, as the lanterns above the bar are only half lit. She quietly sparks each one, mindful not to leave prints on the clouded glass.

Punch greedily accepts the drink as it's laid before him. Perhaps that will make the thicket of social obligations slightly more navigable. His eyes dart to the bartender, but his back is turned. Then to Sax, but she is occupied as well. Finally, he looks with dread at Dangeon--rather, at the side of her head. The rat clears his throat.

Dangeon twitches her ears. "Thankya." The hare seems to have found a coin from a purse she's probably not supposed to carry (it's probably enough, she's figured) and is sliding it across the bar. She's nursing the ale (well it's half gone and her face is still in it so 'nursing' is a loose word) when Saxifrage returns. Almost reluctantly the mug is taken from her muzzle and she turns her head, damaged ear twitching inquisitively. "What nature 'f vittles are we having, if I might ask?" Her nose is already trying to sniff it out. "And 'm terribly bally sorry if'n I'm putting you out 't all, wot. Just didn't fancy being cooped up all bloomin' evening. 'S stuffy."

Peridiscus turns back to respond to Dangeon. "Of cours-- Oh, no, Your Highness, that's not necessary at all." He leaves the coin where it is, and attempts to smile with his best friendly neighborhood barkeep impression, still polishing a glass, and attentively waits for his sib to respond regarding the nature of the 'vittles'.

At the hare's inquiry, Saxifrage pauses her candle detail again. "Turnip and lentil soup, ma'am," she gleams from the unnatural height of a stool rung. "Almond butter with fresh bread. And a seasoned leg of seabird." A look of uncertainty soils the jill's aplomb. "Her majesty fancies birdmeat, yes?" She fidgets with the torch, eyes frisking to Punch and Peridiscus, as if their faces might answer her question before the queen.

Peridiscus merely looks back at his sister with a slightly helpless grin.

Punch watches silently. In stark contrast to the queen, he draws his beer in delicate sips; his nose does not trespass beyond the rim any more than anatomy necessitates. Setting his drink down, he says in a voice barely above a whisper: "Sounds lovely." He tries to hold onto Saxifrage's fleeting eye contact.

Dangeon grins. "M' stomach doesn't seem to like it, but I can bloomin' well suffer that for the short time; m' tongue thinks it sounds bally lovely; all 'f it." She blinks, turning back to Peridiscus. "Doncha have a.. tip jar y' could put 't in?"

Saxifrage hears the rat mumble, but fails to decipher the soft words. She reflexively responds with an icy glare, still cross about their previous exchange, and unconvinced of his penitence. "Then I am sure her majesty will be pleased," she says, and maneuvers to a seat on the stool. "Peri, pour your sister a rum? And can you douse this?" The torch is extended to her brother, in hope that he can snuff it in a bucket.

Peridiscus grins at Dangeon and gives her an instinctive shrug. Tip jars are not really how employees at an establishment like The Knothill collect gratuities, but he certainly appreciates the queen's gesture, if a little secretly amused by her suggestion's quaintness. "Thank you for your generosity, Your Highness. We'll divide it amongst the staff working this evening." He leaves the coin on the bar for now, and deftly takes the torch from his sister.

Peridiscus ducks briefly behind the bar to take care of the torch. He then retrieves a glass for the rum, and considers for a brief moment of giddiness tossing it in the air in some sort of display of bartending showmanship. He decides against it and pours Saxifrage a double rum. "Only the best," he says as he sets it in front of her with a bit of overdone daintiness.

Punch's paws vie with the cool outer surface of the tankard as he lifts it once again to his lips. "Y-your Majesty," he says, addressing her. "I hope you'll-you-you'll pardon my s-saying so--" another sip, and he puts down the mug "--Y-you are rather unlike your pr-predecessor." A hint of a smile makes clear that the remark is meant as a compliment.

"Uh. 'S goin' to be kind of awkward t' devide that up." So she solves it by putting another coin on top of it (she's only seen the two of them, Peridiscus and Saxifrage, as staff so far). Punch's compliment gets a tilt of the hare's head and a puzzled look from behind a risen pint mug. "... My predecessor?" It's almost as if she hadn't considered having one before.

Punch does whatever the rodent equivalent of turning red is.

Saxifrage corrals the cup with a palm. She scoots it to her chest, keeping it there for a time, but stares ahead--out the gradually darkening window--like a child with a security object. While the jill is lost in some weird, quasi-meditation, a parade of rats proves that the polecats are not the only creatures on call tonight. Those at the front of the march place fine silver settings in front of Dangeon and Punch, and then a short tide of others, some of whom have clearly been roused from their rooms, load the plates with the victuals mentioned earlier.

The sounds of a door opening and then closing and then a muffled conversation signal the arrival of Gage and his seemingly ever present fox companion. The polecat leads the way into the room and looks around, "Good evening." he says with a grin, bowing to the queen when he sees her, "Your majesty." The fox makes a weak attempt a curtsy, her eyes showing a little bit of apathy for the hare's status.

Another arrival pries Saxifrage from her trance. She swivels on the stool, cup in tow, and raises the rum to Gage upon recognition. "Captain," is her welcome, followed immediately by: "Brother, get this good beast a rum!" Her olive gaze flits to the fox, but drops before it becomes obvious. "Are you hungry, sir? We've just heated food for her majesty and--" All Punch gets is another glare. "There is plenty for you and your guest."

Punch opens his mouth to expand on his remark, but he is interrupted by the entrance of the fox. He elects instead to finish his drink, oblivious to the daggers being optically hurled at him.

Peridiscus turns toward the newcomers as he hears them greet the queen. He catches Gage's eye to give the captain a quick nod of greeting. "Hello, captain!" He adds enthusiastically to his sister's greeting. Then, the hob appraises the other polecat's surprising companion with a quick sweeping glance before turning back to comply with his sister's request, a private, slightly chagrined smile building at the corners of his lips.

Gage waves a greeting to The siblings as he hops up onto a barstool, the fox doing likewise. "I think i'll have ta take you up on that offer, i'm fair famished." he grins, "And always in the mood for a drink." He realizes that the fox is getting some looks, but he makes no move to introduce her, and she dosen't seem to want to either.

"Captain." Dangeon greets Gage with a lift of her mug. She's rather glad from the distraction from the crowd of staff- queen or not, her coin purse can only hold so many so they'll have to work with the two she's left there. "Aye, come and have a bally drink..." If she catches onto the feelings of the vulpine, she doesn't quite show it.

Various rat staff have lingered at the fringes of the room, and are more than happy to oblige the captain and his vulpine friend. Plates are quickly plopped in front of the pair, then piled with gull meat, chunks of warm bread, and a ladle's worth of soup. It all coalesces in a steamy heap on the platter--decadent, aromatic with imported spice. Saxifrage looks pleased with the spread, nursing her rum, awaiting for the visitors' compliments.

Punch permits himself to eat at last, but he does so in silence.

The fox wastes no time, digging in immediately. Gage is slightly slower, taking a piece of bread, soaking up some of the soup, and taking a bite, washing it down with rum. "Oh," he says, looking like he forgot something, "This is Rona." he gestures to the fox, who looks up from her plate and gives a half-wave. "She's an old friend o' mine. She was on the crew of one a the ships docked down at the docks, an' I persuaded her to lend a paw rebuilding the navy here." he finishes his piece of bread after he concludes.

When the captain introduces his mysterious companion, Saxifrage dips a courteous nod. "Nice to meet you, madame. Welcome to The Knothill--a friend of the captain's is a friend of ours." She cranes to peer past the pair while speaking, attempting to glimpse the queen and, specifically, Punch, who is at the opposite end of the bar.

Peridiscus gives Rona a slight bow as she is introduced. "Indeed, madame. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

The vixen seems to not be overly stunned by their warm greeting, but not out of any rudeness, it appears, as she gives them a nod, "Nice to meet you as well." she says, her tone fairly neutral. Gage chuckles, "She's not huge on introductions. Or any formalities, fer that matter." he sips some more rum.

Peridiscus chuckles, "Certainly. I imagine creatures as yourself are not accustomed to such landlubber frivolities. I imagine a drawn-out introduction in the middle of a storm on the high seas would be rather hazardous to accomplish."

Dangeon nearly spits out some of a mouthful of food, amused by the image of fancy introductions on a stormy sea.

Saxifrage stares blankly, instantly baffled by the concept. "I see," she says, scrunching a brow as she scours her memory for a text about such creatures; those who live without the luxury of etiquette. Even the island's civilian rats adhere to protocol when it comes to royalty and the rich. The fox makes her uneasy, but she relaxes when Peridiscus' takes the banter reins.

Punch concludes his repast and pushes his plate away. He presses a handkerchief to his mouth, looking down, aloof from his company. Without ceremony, he reaches into the pocket of his cloak. He pulls out a small coin purse and sets payment beside his clean dish.

Peridiscus beams at Dangeon, pleased at her reception of his little joke.

Gage nods to Peridiscus, "Aye, that they would. Still, that's no reason fer impoliteness Rona." he shoots her a mock glare, the type that says he knows nothing he says will change her mind, but she mutters, "My apologies." under her breath before taking a gulp of rum.

Punch stands up, bows to the queen (not that she's paying him any mind), mutters something that he ensconces in honorifics, and sneaks out.

Saxifrage, warmed by rum and mired in thought, does not notice Punch's motions for departure. She turns just in time to see the tip of his cloak vanish past the arch. Mouth set in a determined little frown, the jill stands, and briskly glides from the room in pursuit.

Saxifrage exits to the corridor.

Peridiscus looks after his sister with wide eyes, afraid of what might soon transpire. The polecat motions over one of the rats who is clearing plates. The fellow leans over the bar and Peridiscus whispers some quick instructions in his ear. The rat then makes his way over behind the bar and begins preparing to take over for the hob. "Your Highness, sirs, there's an urgent matter I need to look into. I beg your pardons," the polecat hurriedly mumbles, and marches after his sib.

Dangeon seems pretty content to eat and drink where she is until late and it likely won't be until the next afternoon that she reemerges from her room.

Rona is on her fourth tankard of rum, and Gage decides it's time they retired as well, before the vixen finds somebeast to pick a fight with. "C'mon, Rona, the Knothills were kind enough to let me stay here, don't mess that up by making someone mad at ya." he says to her. "Good evening Everybeast." he turns to Dangeon, "And you, your majesty." he helps Rona to her feet and leave for the guest room.