Cyren tips a sip of mead back and smiles.
"I came long ago to Sword Swamp, started as a T.W.I.T., a Tavern Wench In Training. I ruffled feathers and tweaked noses a bit for a living, met a few that were untweakable and unruffled, and generally stayed with that sort."
Cyren's eyes dance in the candlelight and the shadows on the walls seem to get just a little more animated, slightly out of synch with her movements, just that little to make it seem out of place, out of time, just a little unnerving to those without the requisite nerves...more like home to her.
"I learned that you can meet your family in strange places and in the phrasing of overheard conversations. If you turn your head just right you can catch your latest whim as it heads around a corner. It's up to you whether or not you're going to chase it into the depths. I also learned that such things are stalking you, and not always on a whim." She tries to look serious, but just can't hold it for more than a few seconds "And that's usually even more fun."
Cyren's eyes meet Arboc's over the dust and her eyes skirt the corners of this tavern, just different enough from her own homes to be of interest, trying to soak in the character.
"I think there's enough out there to challenge us all. I think Listle is a lady that I would be proud to have on my side in a brawl or a debate. I think with friends like that, the enemies will come. They want to have fun too."
Cyren leans back and tips the rest of her mead back like a shot and puts the glass down on the table, a ring left on the old wood, a new mark in the dust, just as the tallow candle makes new soot patterns curl black on the rafters.
"I think with friends, family and enemies, there's not much we can't do, even bring these places not only to their old glory, but beyond it. Keep in mind that you can't tell the difference between friends, family and enemies at times, but that's the fun, isn't it?"