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February 10, 2011 / Bika

[RP] Ice Cream [PG-13]

You look like you could use some ice cream and mischievous belfs. Me and my buddies, we got some for ya. What’s Fabrio’s DEAL, anyway?

Authors: Hammy, Pill, & me


“You–you didn’t have to hit me,” slurred Veldarin, stumbling out of the bar as he tried to keep up with Hammaryn. The half-empty bottle of tropical rum in his hand swung dangerously close to a mailbox, but he lifted it to his mouth a fraction of a second before it would’ve shattered, and drank.

Hammaryn marched ahead of him, her hands balled up in fists at her side. “You don’t just grab someone’s ear. That’s rude.” She yanked the bottle of rum out of his hand, drinking nearly a quarter of it in one long swig.

He hiccuped. “I just wanted to tell you how pretty you look.” Another hiccup. “It was really important.”

“You’re fucking drunk. Because if you weren’t, you would know that one, you should never tell me that, and two if you want my attention you can just say my name. It’s not hard.” She thrust the bottle back into his hands.

“Hammaryn. If I drink any more I may become permanently and irrep– irrip– irreparably stupid.” He drank the last bit of alcohol anyway and chucked the bottle into the path of the nearest perpetually street-sweeping broom, where it broke into a million glittering pieces. “Make yourself useful,” he said, and chortled quietly to himself.

Hammaryn rolled her eyes. “I’m not entirely sure that you haven’t passed that point.”

“I can only hope that you will be so kind as to wipe the drool from my chin once my mind is gone,” he said, and promptly smacked into the wall of the chapter house. “Oh, we’re here already.”

Hammaryn snorted, threw one of his arms over her shoulder, and opened the front door. “We’re going to the kitchen.”

“YES!” he shouted, then remembered to lower his voice. “Yes. To help Fabrio get rid of all that ice cream he isn’t supposed to be eating.”

“Correct. He’s too fat already, and whatever we don’t eat we can just give to Ysani.”

“Pfffffffffffffffft. Ysani eats her weight in sugar every day, she doesn’t need it either. I say we eat it all, and put… put vegetables in the container when we’re done.” He staggered down the dark hallway toward the kitchen.

Hammaryn followed closely behind him, watching with a bemused smile as he careened from wall to wall. “I’ll eat as much as I can, you’ll have to finish.”

“I haven’t eaten all day, I’m sure I can manage it. I’m starving,” he said, and went to the icebox.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Hammaryn put her hands on her hips. “You don’t just not eat all day, and then get roaring drunk,” she said, and frowned. “You might actually be worse about drinking than I am.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, dear,” he said, and stumbled toward her with a frosty ice cream tub in one hand, two spoons in the other. “I’ll be sure to eat a sandwich at least before I begin next time, will that suffice?”

“You should be eating more than a sandwich anyways.” She grabbed a spoon from him. “What kind is this?”

“Rocky road, I guess the chocolate bits are supposed to be the rocks?” He peeled the lid away from the frozen treat and tossed it on the counter. “I call dibs on all the marshmallow parts.”

“You go sit down.” Hammaryn started rummaging through the pantry, pulling out a bottle of burnwine. She uncorked it and pressed the bottle to her lips, raising her chin in the air.

Three enormous spoonfuls later, Veldarin squinted one eye and jabbed his spoon at the air in Hammaryn’s direction, almost falling off his barstool in the process. “You know, thish ish amashing. You should try it.”

Hammaryn took another drink of burnwine, then sat down across from him at the bar. She ate one bite of ice cream, licking the spoon after. “It’s not bad.”

“It is the opposite of bad. Did you know that there are automated magical spoons that work at nothing but churning this stuff all hours of the day and night? I’ve seen them. Elves use magic for every little thing.” He stuffed his face with a big bite of marshmallow, then stabbed the air again with his spoon for emphasis. “Sho dependent on the arcane for everything. It’sh a shame.”

“I have news for you, Veldarin. You are also Sin’dorei,” she said.

He waved his hand, and consequently, his spoon. “Generalities, Hammaryn. And just because I’ve long ears and elven blood doesn’t mean I can’t exert a little effort to stir my food, or chop wood for a fire, or properly woo a lady.” He grumbled into his next bite. “Next thing you know they’ll be using magic for that, too.”

“Magic is useful.” Another long swig. “I wouldn’t underestimate it.”

“I couldn’t impress you with my paltry parlor-tricks, Hammaryn.” He finished his bite and stuck the spoon back into the container, looking thoughtful. “Could I?”

“You remember that Magister that got me thrown in jail?”

“He wasn’t trying to get on your good side. He was being an ass.”’

“He also had me in agonizing pain within a matter of seconds. And I’ve experienced a lot of pain before,” she said.

“I meant to ask, did it do any permanent damage? Because I can find him and tear off his arms, if need be,” Veldarin said, digging into the bottom of the carton to look for more chocolate-covered almonds.

She shook her head. “I could do that myself, if I didn’t think it would get me thrown in jail for the rest of my life, or worse. All it did was give me a bad headache. Probably like how you’ll feel tomorrow.” She took another drink of burnwine.

“My point is, it seems like a bit of a waste and maybe even a bit dangerous to use it so frivolously.” The carton was pretty low, so he pushed it over to Hammaryn’s side to make sure she got a fair share. “It’s part of the reason I’ve got my heart set on the highlands. Enough natural magic there to access in a pinch, but far, far away from all this distracting convenience.”

“The first night you got drunk, I used magic to light the candle in your room. That was frivolous.” She took a bite of ice cream. “I used to hate Silvermoon, when I was younger. I don’t anymore.”

“Why did you change your mind?” Veldarin slipped off his barstool and casually walked around the bar to sit next to Hammaryn.

“Maybe we should talk about this later. When you’re not drunk,” she said.

“Sure. It’s hard to kiss when we’re talking,” he said, and tugged on her ear for the second time that night.

In one fluid motion Hammaryn slammed the bottle of burnwine down on the bar counter, shattering the bottom, and shoved Veldarin off of his barstool onto the floor. “I told you not to fucking tug on my ear,” she yelled. She waved the broken bottle around, emphasizing every word.

“I forgot,” he said, and pulled himself up off the floor, rubbing his tailbone and paying no mind to Hammaryn’s new jagged-glass weapon. “I really do think the alcohol is having some effect on my judgement.”

She threw the broken bottle on the ground. “You forgot. That’s it? You just forgot?”


“Well WHAT.”

Veldarin shrugged. “I wanted to do something else, but I was too self-conscious.” He took a deep breath. “And I didn’t want to lose any teeth.”

“This is fucking ridiculous. Why can you not just tell me what you want?”

“Because I’m not entirely sure what I want,” he said, and weaved drunkenly toward the closet where the kitchen supplies where stored. He found a broom and a handful of towels and went to clean the spilled burnwine and broken shards of glass off the floor.

Hammaryn walked over to him, grabbed the towels out of his hand and threw them over her shoulder. Then she yanked the broom away and tossed it across the room; it skittered along the floor until it hit the bar. “Just look at me.”

Veldarin seemed almost entirely sober as he stood there, allowing her to wrench away his things. When she told him to look, he looked, brow furrowed slightly as he tried to decide what to do with his hands. Eventually they settled at his sides.

Hammaryn put his hands on his face, leaned in, and kissed. It was not a peck, a butterfly kiss, or a quick smack on the lips. This was a passionate kiss; her lips lingered on his as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

It was all the invitation he needed to put his arms around her waist and push her up to the bar, narrowly missing the puddle of burnwine that dripped steadily onto the floor. He paused for a moment to take a breath. “Sorry I pulled your ear.”

She reached an arm under his shirt and whispered in his ear, her breath hot on his skin. “I forgive you.”

By the time Fabrio shuffled down the hall in his slippers and robe (he liked it because it wasn’t restrictive in the slightest. It was also sinfully fluffy), Hammaryn was seated on the bar itself. The first thing the secretary saw upon turning into the kitchen was the lace of her bra across her back, and the seat of her pants stuck in a puddle of his own private Rocky Road ice cream.

The ice cream he had, up until that moment, been planning to have as a midnight snack.

“What are you doing? That was mine! My ice cream and you’ve ruined it!” Fabrio sputtered, trying not to cry. He had just bought that. Dame Cloudbreaker had been sent on a mission. He had been certain that no one else would have been so rude, and he was furious and embarrassed to have been so wrong. He wrung his hands furiously at his rounded waist. “Get off that table at once! They prepare food there! Oh my goodness–”

Veldarin peeked around Hammaryn to see the cause of the commotion and winced. “Er… sorry, Fabrio.”

Hammaryn turned a vivid shade of red, hopped off the counter, and grabbed her shirt out of a massive puddle of melted ice cream. She tried to stuff it on as fast as possible, scrambling to put her arms in the sleeves. Veldarin pulled on his own shirt and grabbed a towel to help wipe off some of the ice cream smeared into Hammaryn’s clothes and onto the sticky bar.

“I’ll pay for the ice cream, sir,” said Veldarin as he dabbed at Hammaryn’s clothes with the sticky chocolate towel.

Hammaryn shook her head. “You can take it out of my salary.”

Fabrio blinked at them both. Dame Dawnsorrow and Master Lightsong. In the kitchen, mostly undressed… The secretary flushed brightly.

Veldarin sloshed warm water from the tap over the mess and began mopping things up as quickly and neatly as he could. If he was still drunk, it didn’t show in spite of his state of sticky dishevelment. “We’ll be out of your hair in just a moment–Hammaryn, I can get the rest of this if you’d like to, ah, change.”

Hammaryn stood rooted to her spot behind her counter. She stared at the pudgy secretary, biting her lower lip. “I’m so sorry, Fabrio.”

Fabrio raised his chin slightly, doing his best to look imposing. “I hope so. I expect this kind of… tawdry behavior from Dame Firebloom and Master Sunsworn. I did not expect it from you!” He looked accusingly at Hammaryn.

“Entirely my fault, sir. I provoked the situation and take full responsibility for my actions. I understand if you must ask me to leave the premises, I only ask that if you do, that I be allowed to get my things and bid Miss Dawnsorrow goodnight before I go.” Veldarin wrung the filthy towel out into the sink and set it aside. The place looked cleaner already, but there were still a lot of glass shards on the floor. He retrieved the broom and began to sweep.

The pudgy elf sighed deeply. “I cannot just dismiss you and I think we all know that if I asked Master Sunsworn to do so and the reason for it…” There was no point in finishing the statement.

“It’s not Veldarin’s fault, Sir, it’s mine. I made the mess.” Hammaryn’s lower lip started to quiver.

“I shouldn’t have pulled your ear. You already told me not to once tonight, it’s my fault.” Veldarin looked to Fabrio as though he expected the pudgy elf to back him up.

“I do not care for whatever reason the two of you came to be necking in the Order’s kitchen, covered in MY ice cream!” He threw his arms in the air as he raised his voice. “I don’t give a damn about any of the things that led up to this.. this disgrace!”

A strange thing happened then; Hammaryn put her face in her hands, and started to cry.

Veldarin scowled at Fabrio and leaned the broom against the bar, bringing a napkin to the weeping woman. He was pretty sure there would be no more kissing tonight, or maybe ever. “Yes, I’m certain you’ve made your point. Is there anything else we can do to make amends, or are you just going to keep shouting?”

Fabrio scowled right back at Lightsong. “You break glasses, steal my food and do the Sun knows what in the Order’s kitchen and you think I have made my point? I would think that you would have the good grace to at least look somewhat abashed.”

Hammaryn handed the napkin back to Veldarin, tears still streaming down her face, then simultaneously wiped her nose on her sleeve and smeared chocolate all over her face. “It’s my fault. Fabrio, you can yell at me, not Veldarin. Write me up.”

Fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and stave off the headache he could feel brewing behind his eyes, Veldarin wiped some of the chocolate from Hammaryn’s face and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Go ahead out, I’ll handle this. I’ll come by your room to check on you when it’s over.”

Hammaryn didn’t bother whispering back. “No.” She shook her head. “This is just another mistake in a long line of fuck ups. I can handle this.”

“Will the two of you stop arguing about who is at fault? I rather doubt that either of you is less guilty than the other!”

“We made a mistake and have apologized. I won’t be shamed for being intimate with her, though–only for the poor choice in location, and for taking what wasn’t mine.” Veldarin folded his arms across his chest, expressionless. “It won’t happen again.”

Hammaryn’s voice was quiet. “I’m so, so sorry Fabrio.”

“I don’t give a damn if you are intimate with her, Lightsong!” The secretary turned on his heel and then glared at the man over his shoulder. “That is between you and her. It’s my job, my duty to make sure this house runs smoothly! Just like it is to make sure that whatever messes you all make are properly cleaned up.” He threw up his hands and stormed out of the kitchen.

“Are you all right?” Veldarin took a cautious step toward Hammaryn and put his arm around her shoulder to see if she was amenable to comfort. Some of her hair was sticky with ice cream and stuck to his forearm.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what just happened. He’s never like that.”

When he didn’t take a fist to the jaw for touching her shoulder, he went a step further and kissed the top of her head. “He was probably looking forward to his ice cream and we ruined it for him. I suppose that could make him more angry than usual… we usually get along well. You should go run a bath, you’ll feel better once you’re not so damned sticky.”

“I’d rather help you clean up first,” she said.

“It’s almost done. You can get a mop if you like, to get rid of the last of it after I pick up this glass.”

She nodded and headed towards the supply closet, then stopped a few steps later. “Veldarin – I’m sorry things turned out this way.”

“Don’t worry about it. Fabrio will forget about it and it was… well.” He tipped the shard-laden dustpan into the bin, then scratched his chin. “It was really nice. Minus the getting caught bit.”

A ghost of a smile traced across her face. “I liked it too.”

“We’d better hurry and get this done, then, or I’m going to get us in trouble again.” He flashed a grin at her and, for the first time that day, managed not to act on the ear-tugging impulse.

Hammaryn grabbed the mop from the supply closet. “I think I like the Twilight Highlands after all.”

Veldarin came up behind her and put his hands on her hips. “Good. I think we may need to build a bigger kitchen when we get out there, though.”

She snorted and gently pushed him away. “Later,” she said. “We’ll think about it later.”


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