Alsiif gulped down a few mouthfuls of wine, and ignored T'puuli's first question. "Ahaha, yeah, hitting stuff!" She wiped away some blood that flowed from her cut lip. "Ahm.. you probably haven't heard of us because we're kind of underground. I mean- ahm.. We're ALL underground but- Yeah we haven't made a big... splash yet...?"
"I mean, we've killed some dragons and stuff," Alsiif picked at some dirt that got tangled in her fuzzy, claw-hiding mittens, "but yeah that kind of things pretty easy so I guess its no big deal."
"It takes next to fuck all ability to go around telling everyone about how big your knockers are." Neit sauntered up behind T'puuli, butting into the conversation just like she had butted out of the one with that boring-ass Chaon lass, not even bothering to say goodbye. Whilst talking, she intercepted a servant carrying a torso-sized iced honey and jam cake, stuck a hand into their face hard enough to send them tumbling backwards, and then seized the massive cake in mid-air for herself. "I would have thought you of all people could appreciate that, Ilharess. With biceps like that, I bet you could slap someone's knockers off with your bare hands."
Classy black skintight leather, plumes of raven feathers, flesh like polished granite. The vicious glint of barbed silver jewelry and knife-slit crimson eyes... Neit went ahead and sat cross-legged in the middle of the table, digging into the sugary mound with her with bare hands. It went all over the place.
If there was a single iota of respect to be given, it was that she was facing T'puuli whilst she did it, giving off a dull expression somewhere in between absolute boredom and having a massive headache.
"Killed a Dragon?" T'puuli asked, apparently surprised. "You don't get along with the Maelthra? Z'hrenil's right there... Does Aryyna know you two is fighting?" I guess she didn't know that other people had Dragons?"
Before Alsiif could respond one way or the other, Neitar showed up.
"My boobs're pretty big. Not as big as Aryyna's, tho. I mean... kinda bigger? 'Cause I'm bigger in general? But uh... you know..." She shrugged. "Biceps? ...Oh! You mean my muscles. Yeah. They're pretty huge." She seemed proud, flexing both arms for emphasis. "Aryyna goes wild about them." Another shrug. "Who're you. I don't think I've seen you 'round either." She gave Neit a look, apparently trying to remember. "Oh... wait... you a fan? You saw me that time I was fighting that Orc girl and tore her tit off?" T'puuli them smiled and gave Neit a pat on the head, practically slamming it down onto the table. "Oh, yeah. Hi. I'm T'puuli Rendanvlos. Ilharess T'puuli Rendanvlos. Your costume is cute. Like a tiny little Deep Crow. 'Cept not enough eyes. They got like... lots."
"I didn't catch that one, but I saw a few others." Neit made a grim smile, remembering the fights in question. "Me? Yeah. Just another Inthuul tart. Just another nobody Ilharess. oo' gives a fuck, eh?" The cake was still in her hands, but she was getting bored with it pretty quickly. The sharp-faced thing just gave it a disdainful look of consideration, then splatted it top-down onto the floor.
"Say, I had an idea for a restaurant..." She gave off a newly cheery expression, in the blink of an eye. "Grub on a bun is gonna be like, super easy crap to make, and cheap and stuff. If we aim it at low-down scumbags, it can be as gross or whatever as we want and it will still sell."
"...But... Well, everybody has some frikkin' dainty bimbo on their banners. I want somebody 'oo looks serious beefy like they could snap a troll's arms and legs off, ya know? Can we get some wench to paint a bunch of radical-hot scrolls of you?"
It was true, nobody did advertise with a muscular drow. Nobody really advertised. Normally drow just put up banners with hot pictures of themselves that said 'I will personally murder you if you buy food anywhere else'... Which wasn't actually out of the question, but hey, more options was always good.
"I like grubs. On buns. Or not. Just you know. Grubs." T'puuli seemed to trail off a bit there. "Oh. I'm pretty beefy. I can snap a Trolls arm off. Well, I mean, I did. Could probably do a Cave Troll even. Maybe a Mountain Troll. Dunno. Kinda wanna try now." T'puuli gave Neit a vacant shrug. A few moments passed.
"Oh. You mean me?" Congratulations, T'puuli, you figured it out. "Would be a good artist, right? Not a shit one? Get all my bigness? If it was shit I might break something. Someone." She shrugged again, grabbing some big handful of various foods off a passing Angel's plate and shoving it all in her mouth at once.
"What's in it for me? For Rendanvlos? Why should I help Inthuuls?" She may have been a huge hulking idiot, although Neit likely got the vibe that she wasn't quite as dense as she let on, but she was still Drow.
A very, very, very large Drow who could probably punch Neit's head off if angered.
"Eh. Fuck business. You want some kinda percentage or some crap, then whatever." Neit held a match to a new cigar and inhaled the grimy aroma. "You can talk to Rynna I guess, she gets all horny over numbers and crap. But I didn't figure you were the boring type, personally."
The crowish woman gave T'puuli a long look of examination. She was considering if it sounded like she was being manipulative, and secondly, if she really cared if she was or not. The halfblooded demon lady was really quite hot, but Neit was not about to put herself in another stressful business predicament over nothing. The witch didn't and never had given a damn about money or power. Back with Aryyna her actions were purely just saving their necks, and everything since then had been a landslide of strange fortune.
"All I care about is a good time." Neit finally spoke up again, rolling the cigar from one side of her mouth to the other. She stuck out her lithe chest and made a grim toothy smile, heightening her jaw in an intentionally arrogant, provocative manner. "You want to smack me around, then do it. At least one of us will be getting some fun out of this conversation."
A dangerous game, yes. But the sharp-faced witch was being honest. Hopefully the Ilharess of Rendanvlos got the right message.
T'puuli was quiet for a while. Maybe she wasn't paying attention. "I don't numbers good." She explained, finally. "Other Rendanvlos do that for me." The half-Demon lifted up Neitar with ease, putting her down a few feet away from the other two Inthuul women. She leaned in close, talking as softly as she could, which wasn't very easy given that her masculine voice wasn't only deep but also generally loud.
"They call me idiot. Retard. All sorts'a names. I don't care. Think they can take advantage of me 'cause I'm dumb. That I care." The hulking woman gave Neit a look. "You're not like that. I think?" T'puuli leaned over, looking Neit in the eyes for a while, all intense and shit. Then she laughed and jostled the much smaller woman's hair. "You're alright, Neit. Sounds fun. Maybe have me fighting a giant grub?"
Neit's legs tensed upwards, and she pretty much had to hang off of T'puuli's forearm to avoid being choked by the herculean half-demon woman. The psion didn't take it personally, but it was a little hard to stay graceful when being picked up and toyed around with like a ragdoll.
"You could have some orc dope in a headlock, and be eating an ol' grub with the other hand, like it's nobodies' business! It would be great!" Dark eyes like slits, Neit suddenly decided to take the woman's physical power in stride, and placed one of those hefty palms to the side of her face, sort of inviting the thumb to press against the woman's ghoulishly grinning lips. "People can call you whatever Lolth allows, but it's still those dainty money-obsessed little turds that need slaves just to help them put their knickers on in the morning. I can't respect people like that. Not at all."
"I think that you do what you want, when you want, and there isn't anybody that can stop you."
"Shebali," came a sultry voice from behind Sabrae. It was Aryyna, a smirk on her gorgeous face, Neit's gift spider on her shouler, a long cigarette and a glass of something in hand. She laughed. "Ahahaha, Sabrae. I remember your name. I'm just fucking with you. Lolth's tits, though, could you be any more shebali?" Aryyna cast a glance aside towards a very drunken Taldi while Ilph seemed to try and keep her from puking on anyone important, or faceplanting. "Well, clearly." Aryyna answered the question Sabrae didn't ask, maybe it was the look on her face? But, well, yeah, Neit didn't mention her being shebali until quite recently. "Oh, come on, gorgeous. It's obvious. Particularly when you get as old as I am. You pick up the little tells." She lifted Sabrae's face towards hers, leaning in close enough that their lips were nearly touching. "It must be terrifying, I imagine. Around all these so very important, beautiful people. And, you know, me." Aryyna cracked up, laughing as she gently shoved off of Sabrae.
"But seriously, babe, relax. Enjoy yourself. You're a gladiatrix, right? You wrestle? You look like you do." The Ilharess formed circles with her fingers and placed them over her face in pantomime of a mask.
T'puuli was quiet for a while. "I like that. I like you." She smiled at Neit. It seemed genuine. "The grubs wont suck. Right? Don't know if want to be um..." she searched for the word 'associated.' "you know, with sucky grubs."
"I-I do wrestle, Ilharess." Sabrae managed. She was still half-trembling from Aryyna's beauty and commanding grace. "If you would like, I could peform for you. It would be an immense pleasure and a tremendous honor, Ilharess." Sabrae looked hopeful, she had never performed for someone of such high stature before, and she was eager to prove her worth and skills. "If you'll allow me, I can promise you will be entertained unlike ever before."