Oh boy, does Astrid enjoy the -well, they're not exactly head pats- head pets. The gloomy Lord of Ghouls always seems to have a bit more life in his eyes around certain people. The hair and ears are quite a bit different than expected, but his face remains the same, and she won't forget the face of anyone she considers family. Especially with how kind he's been in their visits. The man gifted her a lifelong companion, after all.

"Yer worth acknowledgin," Astrid says. Spicy Pawsage barks an agreement. "Cantio's off workin' on some project I'm not s'posed ta be privy ta. But I'm doin' me best ta make ya all proud!" She quickly offers her vampire grandpappy a hug before turning to stay out of the way.

Looking around, Astrid realizes the Rookery is more busy than she thinks she's ever seen it. She recognizes a few people, mostly Cyran, Bellighul, and Zarius, so she decides she'll stick with the few folks she's familiar with and offer up her help with moving material. 

To Zarius, she offers a wave and a quick, "Hiya Mister Zarius! Hope it's alright if I crash here tonight! I'll pay fer a room or whatever ya need me ta do. Maybe help a bit with... whatever's goin' on! Seems busy!" Admittedly, she'll later see 

Hearing Cyran, she quickly looks over at him. "Cyran! Hi, how's the kids doin' at the orphanage? Hope it wasn't too much of a bother ta bring 'em ta ya. Miss Melodia's real grateful they've got a proper home an' care now. I dropped by just ta stay the night if I could since I was in town lookin' fer some stuff ta do. Bl- Wolfe's out wanderin' around." Astrid watches him and this other girl who's a few years older than her working on unloading things. "What's happenin' here? I'll help ya. I've got no problems liftin' stuff." Without particularly waiting for an answer, she goes over to a crate that seems like it needs to be moved. After struggling mostly with her lack of wingspan, she finds a good means of gripping it then lifts the whole glass-rattling crate and carries it behind the bar. Of course, she sets it down gently then dusts her hands off. 

As far as what he can get for her... She looks at the crates, which seem branded with things she recognizes from Bellighul's cellars. "Oh! Is this that weird bitter juice gramps drinks? I like it a lot. Makes me feel warm. Can I have some of this? S'pose dwarven ale's fine too. Tastes less like water than the other stuff I've tried." There is absolutely implication she's had alcohol before. She's a half-dwarf, after all. Ale is like their bread and butter. Well, their water, anyway. 

Her eyes land on Iryla again, and now closer to her, she extends a hand for introductions. "Nice t'meetcha. I'm Astrid Stormstone!" 

Zarius nods gratefully to Iryla, Cyran, and Eirynor as they help out as needed. They had taken on a lot of initiative in this matter and were aptly working around the tension and chaos of the room. He would have to remember to thank them once things calmed back down and he wasn’t preoccupied with several conversations at once.

Zarius tilts his head a bit at Astrid’s declaration of staying at the bar. The Rookery wasn’t an inn, but seeing how she interacts with Bellighul he can’t help and think about how much it would drive the man mad to know his…granddaughter(?) was staying the night. It was all too tempting for the tiefling.

That aside, gods, how is he so in the dark about this whole Cantio, Astrid, Bellighul family thing? He’s supposed to be keeping track of all these weirdos and who they were forming alliances with and what they were getting involved in around Charon. He understands that Cantio somehow ended up adopting Astrid, which tracks for the sensitive, kind-hearted bard. But how did the Lord of Ghouls, a murderous, pretentious, necromancer fit into this picture?? Was that why he had the confidence to cut into the dance at the ball? That kind of would explain some things.

This was a bit concerning though since he still had a strained relationship with Bellighul. Who else had He’d have to have a meeting with his staff and increase their diligence on collecting information. He smiles at Astrid.

“You are welcome to stay, Miss Astrid. Eameia, could you make arrangements?”

“Of course.” The tiefling woman nods then turns her attention back to Bellighul.

“We appreciate the offer. While some see the Ash Lands as only a charred spot on the map, there are those that know how to sift through the ashes and find the precious few embers just waiting to alight into something more. These are troubling times and I believe it is best to forge mutually beneficial alliances.”

That was the point of going through all the effort of events like this as well as having her brother travel extensively across Charon doing everything from saving idiot miners to fighting off beasts in the wild. While the Ash Lands were their priority, there was only so much they could achieve on their own. Overthrowing the powers at be would take an army, and remaining in control afterwards would require as many loyal connections as they could muster. Shields and spears. The more the better.

“I respect Lady Kamille deeply, and I sympathize with her situation. It can be difficult to find purpose when the whole world seems to be working against you. Her ambition is admirable, and her capacity for empathy unrivaled.”

Eameia looks down at Astrid with a warm smile. Compared to Zarius, her practiced expressions come off as far more genuine.

“I believe my brother has mentioned the bard known as Cantio von Lumen before. A curious name.”

Curious indeed. It seemed like a stage name to her, though all attempts at investigating the bard’s background at the behest of Zarius had proven to come up with shockingly few results. This was all the more suspicious to her. Even nobodies had history which could be dug up. Whatever was in this bard’s past was very carefully covered up by someone with the skills necessary to protect against investigation. She wouldn’t pry though. There was a good chance it was hidden for a reason and that neither Cantio’s adopted daughter or the Lord of Ghouls were aware of any meaningful details.

She glances over at her brother who was ensuring some others she was unfamiliar with were getting whatever attention they needed. Seemed he was paying no mind to the cat on top of his head using his horns as a scratching post, however the small terror had caught the eye of the plucky looking fighter.

The kitten’s nose twitches and its round owl-like eyes lock onto the ration offered at the tips of Gerharts unprotected fingers. The morsel was too enticing to ignore, and the small creature had no qualms with taking as much of Gerhart’s flesh with the offering as its tiny sharp claws could rend from his digits. Course the dual sword wielder likely would not flinch at such a vicious attack upon his hands as the tiny kitten was quite weak and its little nails a far cry from the blades they themselves carried.

“I will admit, the turn out is not what I was expecting.” The tiefling responds to the young human fighter. 

Zarius just looks exasperated at Gerhart’s comment about a scholar on the volcano side. This had to be a joke. Either there was a group of foolish scholars, or there is one very stupid one repeatedly throwing themselves in harms way. Both were just as plausible as they were annoying.

“For those involved in scholarly expeditions, they seem to have few survival instincts. Kvasir and I rescued one from a pack of jackals just recently.” Comments to Gerhart before addressing Kvasir’s question.

“I have been fine. I am focusing on some matters here before I set back out across Charon to deal with business abroad. Truth be told, owning a business has been more work than I originally anticipated, though my sister has been helping greatly.” He gestures to the younger tiefling woman currently taking the lead on speaking with the white-haired cat-eared man.

---

Outside the bar in the adjacent alleyway, some soft footsteps approach Vakker from the opposite direction. A snow leopard catfolk in a long cloak with a longbow slung over their back gives the man a curious look. The catfolk has an armful of something wrapped up in cloth to protect it from the falling ash.

“Excuse me, what are you doing?” Snow asks.

It wasn’t like people lurking in alleys was particularly abnormal, but Snow was pretty familiar with the types who tended to hang out in the area since it was part of their job to patrol the rooftops and alert those inside to any approaching trouble and they did not recognize the satyr at all.

The amount of people noticing her and asking for her name throws Iryla for a loop, even if so far it had only been two of them. It wasn’t a phenomenon she was used to even after spending some time here in the Rookery with Cyran and Zarius and all the others.

Nervously, she glances to Cyran without thinking about it. In the moment she doesn’t quite realize she’s seeking some manner of reassurance from him even as he busies himself gathering more glasses from the bar.

Ugh, what was she doing standing there silently like some dead fish? Her name. She should give them both her name. She would have to get used to this polite sort of conversation eventually. Even if in the moment she felt painfully, painfully awkward standing here.

Iryla takes Astrid’s hand and gives it a firm shake before letting go and pulling her arm back to her side. Looking between both of them she finally gives her name. “Ah… My name is Iryla. I, uh, I live here at the Rookery.” She didn’t have a last name she could give either of them, but at least now she had a place she somewhat belonged to that she could name instead.

“If there’s anything the two of you need, just tell me. I’d be.. Happy to help. I’m not quite an employee but I know my way around this place pretty well.” She hadn’t exactly explored every nook and cranny yet- As she’d yet to figure out a way to sneak into Zarius’ room, but she knew the commons spaces well enough and could navigate behind the bar easily enough.

There is a notable and complete absence of any amusement on Kvasir's face as he listens to Gerhart talk about rescuing a scholar from Mount Drakolt, lips drawn into a thin line of exasperation, practically mirroring Zarius's own look of exhaustion and likely matching the same thought-- don't tell me that damned fool went charging up that volcano more than once. Curiosity could lead one to strange places and fortune could drag you back out, but one could never truly count on luck to be an omnipresent savior; marching back up to a place you'd narrowly escaped from with your life was the equivalent of laying your life before the gods on a bad day and asking them to do what they will with you.

How positively exhausting.

Kvasir sighs, folding his arms, tail swishing back and forth in slow, contained motions, a testament to his mild annoyance with the thought. Still, it isn't his problem at the moment-- he has what he needs at this current moment, he's not currently up on Mount Drakolt, and if anyone needs medical aid, he's happy to provide it, but he won't go chasing loose threads into lava. He's no fool.

"We did, indeed," he merely says, an accompaniment to Zarius's answer. "Nasty things, Ashland Jackals."

His gaze flits round the room as Zarius gestures over to a woman he presumes is his sister, pausing for a moment to glance over both her and the strange man she's talking to. Hm, it's rare he gets to see many people with features like his, though the white-haired stranger seems more feline than anything. Interesting.

"I wasn't aware you had a sister, though it isn't really as if we had much time to exchange pleasantries up there on the mountain," he says, a light chuckle creeping beneath the words. His ears twitch ever-so-slightly, as if in mild amusement. "I'm glad to hear you're alright, though, friend-- running any kind of business certainly sounds like a-- certainly is something of a chore. I'll say, I didn't realize there was some kind of event going on here today. This is quite the interesting gathering you've accumulated..."