Mathle accepts her rum ration and sits with it mid-room.  She knows that the edges of the room are reserved for regulars.  She and her consortium are stuck in the middle of the room where, excepting to sit back-to-back, there's no way to assuredly watch one's own ass.<br/><br/>Conchobar's company has... well... worn her patience a little thin, so she's glad to be among her fellow captives for the time being.  She has learned almost nothing.  The work was... well, somewhat enjoyable, but by this second day she's grown impatient.  To be among the sea all day-- smelling the salt air, spotting the rare crest of a porpoise or the turning of a lost sea-bird, she grows increasingly angry at the entire mess.<br/><br/>She settles heavily on the bench next to Ber, her arm touching his, its skin the color of ancient old jade where it is dusky from the sun.  She leans closer, her arm meeting his--though hard with lean muscle, her entire arm could fit the male half-orc's bicep.  She turns her face slightly toward him and murmurs softly.  "Put your cup next to mine," she says into his ear, "and smile like I'm saying something you like, okay?"<br/><br/>She smiles, eyes half-veiled, her face close to Beriana's... though the gesture is for show, it's quite natural on her.  Perhaps that's because she means it, somewhere inside.  She reaches for his shoulder, placing her left hand on his shoulder, and lifts her right hand in the sheltered gap between them.<br/><br/><i>"Mi, shar eirdae si aelor os sor sar Ai tylesti," </i><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">elvish</div><div class="spoiler_body">Sea, wash away the evil of this that I consume.</div></div>she whispers, then lifts the gesturing right hand and instead places it on his cheek, trailing her fingers down to pinch the cleft of his long, broad chin.  "Now," she murmurs, "laugh like I just said something funny."  She breathes deeply, the words of nature having rolled off her tongue so effortlessly being an assurance to her.<br/><br/>She leans back a bit, takes a long pull of her rum, and smiles.  "Thanks for watching over me... making it so I wasn't interrupted last night, when I was... thinking."  She sips the rum again, swirls the cup so that there's no doubt to the others nearby that she is, in fact, drinking the liquor.  "We're going to have to think about getting control here.  I won't be much help in planning," she sips it again... hell, now that it's pure, the rum is fucking<i>good</i>... "but I can fight, and I can help the wounded.  The sadistic fuck that runs this ship is going to take one of us out.  It's only a matter of time."<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">At 2012-07-27 19:00:26, icsyhyat (uid: 768) rolls: 1d20a2 Result: 5 (http://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=40242) only got a 5 to resist rum, but if it's purified that just means she's going to get LIT, right?<br/>Casting L-0 spell, Purify food/drink on the two cups of rum ration</div></div>