[The Raster Market] Break The Ice [Syllke]

[Vanos Strongarm]

70.S.511, afternoon. Vanos had been in Denval for just shy of two days and his Common was already improving considerably, but since it was broken at best before, now Vanos could at least understand more Common than he could before. Slang, on the other hand, was something that went right over his head (and that joke, “going over his head,” was taken as more of an insult whenever someone used it towards Vanos as he thought they were saying that he wouldn’t be able to understand because of his height.) Jerzy had tried to teach him some of the slang but it was no use, Vanos was still struggling with such simple terms that slang would just mess it all up, so he just left that alone for the time being and focused on trying to fit in with the few people that he had met in his couple days in Denval. The little sleeping quarters that Jerzy was going to give to Vanos for him to stay in wasn’t quite ready yet, so he was still staying at The Stranger’s Welcome and paying an arm and a leg for their hospitality. They didn’t have anything there, either, that Vanos could use to train his body but the work that Jerzy and him were doing was more than enough at the moment to keep his body in shape and strong. His hands were still warm from the forge when he left early for the afternoon. While the hospitality and food from Oleg was good, Vanos wanted something a little more filling than the meals that he got there with his stay which brought him to the market. It was loud, full of humans and the rare other race that Vanos had yet to truly interact and filled with stands ranging from simple foods to clothes and other pieces of art that Vanos didn’t understand. It wasn’t that he didn’t like art, he simply didn’t understand the construction of something that just stood there or laid against a wall without a purpose other than to decorate an interior. He enjoyed when everything had a purpose and wasn’t sure about other things that sat there merely to be admired. Maybe it was simply a human thing that he would never understand. A certain cart drew his attention as he looked over to shirts and other clothing that seemed he could wear and looked more comfortable than the shirt he currently had on. His rough hands reached out to pick up one of the white shirts in front of him as he held it out, unfolding it as he brought it up to his chest. The other, taller patrons around him were trying to push the shorter man around but it was like trying to move a damn boulder. Instead of Vanos moving out of their way, they were forced to deal with the fact that Vanos wasn’t going to budge as he stood there and looked over to the merchant and held the shirt in his hand, the shirt that would barely fit one of his arms. “Something other than vhite, do you have it in?” Vanos asked in his broken Common to the merchant. “No, it doesn’t look like the right size on you! Here, let me find one!” The merchant said as he disappeared behind the shelves for a moment and pulled out a giant white shirt that looked more like a nightgown or dress than an actual t-shirt. It was made for a damn giant and not for someone with Isurian ... dimensions. “No, not vhite.” Vanos said as he reached down and picked up a darker tan shirt from the pile of them and held it out to the merchant. “Something in this colour, I want, not vhite. Gets dirty, vhite, don’t want that colour.” The merchant gave a little chuckle, obviously not hearing Vanos properly nor understanding what he was wanting the shirt for. Was it a common Denval thing to wear gigantic shirts that went down to their knees? Or maybe this merchant was somewhat enjoying watching the Isurian struggle with such simple words. “This,” Vanos pointed to the tan shirt and said the colour in Isurian to himself in a grumble. He wasn’t getting annoyed or angered at the situation, just disheartened in the fact that such a simple transaction was turning into a yelling match as Vanos had to try to lower his amount of Common and resort to something more basic in communicating with the merchant. He pointed to the tan shirt, then pointed to himself and tugged on the sleeve of his shirt, then pointed back to the merchant with the hope that he would get the hint that he wanted a shirt in that colour, in his size. “No, I don’t think you got that shirt from me, but it is pretty weird looking on you. I guess all Isur have trouble finding clothes to fit around that green arm of theirs, don’t they?” If Vanos was a man that was quick to anger, he would have reached over and snapped that man’s head off. Instead he folded the shirt back the same way he found it and piled it back on the stand with the other small shirts and turned his back to the merchant. Maybe Jerzy would have better luck in translating Vanos’ simple desire for new clothes.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke stretched and yawned prodigiously, the warmth of the afternoon making him sleepy. A late night, an early morning, and a substantial lunch were seriously talking to his brain, prodding him to return to his bed and indulge in a nap. This ran totally contrary to his nature though. The thought of wasting any of his precious leisure time with sleeping more than a minimal required amount at night had about as much appeal as tossing his hard earned coins into the gutter of the street. Activity was called for now – he knew getting up and continuing on his inspection of what was on offer in the market would stimulate his brain cells. Strolling about the place was sure to counter the soporific effects of the meal he had just consumed whilst sitting on a bench outside one of the taverns dotted about the hub of the trading center. There was always so much color and form and texture to capture his eye and activate his imagination. Syllke came frequently to walk amongst the stalls and booths and tents to get inspiration and seek out the new and novel. So, with a contented sigh, he pushed himself up off the bench and slid into the stream of shoppers, gawkers, merchants, children, hustlers and entertainers that comprised the Raster market.

He wandered for a bit, looking at this and smelling that and listening to the varying sources of sound that wove in and out and around all of it. Occasionally he stopped to touch something, as often as not garnering a frown from the purveyor of whatever the something was. Engaged in just such a moment, fingering the nubbly texture of a woven material that seemed to be a mixture of wool and linen, richly dyed a beautiful deep blue, the sounds of a nearby conversation reached his ears. Not really listening, but hearing most of what was passing between the two participants, he began to smile to himself. His own grasp of the common tongue of Mizahar was far from perfect, so he could easily empathize with the one who was struggling to make himself understood. Syllke left off fondling the cloth, much to the seller’s disgruntled satisfaction, and he turned to look at the clothing merchant and his would-be customer. His eyes widened. Now, there was something he hadn’t seen before.

The little man had just turned about. Apparently his efforts to find what he wanted – or to get the merchant to find it – had been unsuccessful, and he was giving up. He was so extremely odd looking that Syllke actually tilted his head a bit, as he was prone to doing when really giving something, or someone, his complete and full attention. The Vantha had heard of the Isur – but he had yet to experience one, assuming this was indeed what he was now looking at. It must be - that arm! And the blue and green coloring! Fantastic! Syllke felt a rush of something like adrenalin, considering this opportunity to encounter something totally unique to his experience to date. Well, if the Isurian would allow himself to be . . . um, ‘experienced.’ Syllke had in his life met with a variety of receptions to his attempts to get to know more about other people . . . or . . . things. Creatures?

Unhesitantly, though, he stepped over to stand beside the short blue rock of a . . . man. With his thoughts on running his fingers over that silver veined skin, wondering if it would be cool to the touch, like stone, he said, “Hi. You seem to be having a bit of trouble.” His eyes went to the clothing vendor who had his back turned to them for the moment. Syllke shrugged. “My common isn’t any better than yours, but I’d be happy to see if I could get him to understand what you’re asking.” He jerked his thumb at the seller. Then he looked down at the Isurian. “Um, what exactly is it that you are asking?” His eyes roamed over that impressive, bulging physique. “I doubt if you’ll find anything to fit – you might have to get someone to fix something up for you. You’re pretty . . . chunky. And short.”

[Vanos Strongarm]

The Vantha that was looking over to Vanos was hard to miss; he had his head tilted to the side like it was the first time he had ever seen an Isurian. Judging by the way his face seemed to light up with delight it was probably the first time he had seen one as Vanos could practically see his curiously thin fingers reach out to touch his cold skin. "Trouble, no trouble," Vanos said, his throat rumbling on the R's in those Common words. His eyes looked up to the Vantha as he looked back over to the vendor who was paying no attention to the two of them. Vanos didn't think he was causing any trouble and maybe that was why the vendor was being a bit of a prick towards him, or perhaps he was a bit racist to those that didn't speak Common fluently in a predominantly Common-speaking city. The confession from the taller man wasn't quite believed by Vanos as the Common that he spoke was fast and seemed to be, more or less, fluent though the chances of him actually understanding Isurian were low as that would put an end to all the difficulty that he was having. Maybe he should be keeping Jerzy a little closer to his side while he was out in public when he was trying to interact with vendors that didn't know of his inexperience with Common. "New shirt, am trying to buy," Vanos said as he pointed to the tan shirt that looked like it would fit the Vantha easily. "Not in that colour. And yes, not fit. Vill have to get tailored. As Vanos made his last statement he was wondering just exactly how he looked like chunky, meaty soup. Maybe the Vantha was pointing out the fact that the bulges on his body appeared that way? Vanos thought it was a rather different way to describe a person, but if he was asked to describe the person he was talking to at that moment he would probably compare him to the thinnest branches on the top of a tree - a man that looked like he would splinter if he had to carry anything heavier than his hair. "All Isurians like this. No other Isurians here? May have to get someone to, uh, 'fix' me." Vanos emphasized that word as if he knew what he truly meant, and hoped that it meant either to repair the shirt he had or to make him one where he didn't have to deal with that vendor.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, it’s way too long for you. I’ve never seen anyone so short and . . . broad.” His hands gestured, spreading apart widely. Without asking whether the Isurian wanted to embroil himself in another round of ‘guess my mind’, Syllke called to the merchant, who turned back around. His face dropped a bit, to see the squat, blue man still there but the taller Vantha looked like fresh meat. So the man smiled in an oily way and asked in a true truckling tone, “Ah, yes, what can I do for you my young sir?”

Smiling, Syllke put his hand on the Isur’s shoulder. “I think this man would like to buy one of your shirts. This one.” His hand moved to the shirt Vanos had indicated. “But not in white. He wants tan, if you have it. Please.”

The merchant looked at the Isur doubtfully. “Well, sure – sure. But . . . nothing I have is, er, short enough.” He held up the shirt Syllke had indicated and shook it out, to demonstrate. “See? It would, um, drag the ground – no disrespect intended, of course.”

“No problem – we can shorten it.” Syllke looked down at his new companion. “Yeh? I have a needle and thread. I’m sure we can find some scissors. Not a problem.”

He looked again at the merchant. “How much – if you have the right colour.” The young Vantha seemed totally unconcerned that the Isur might not want him to meddle in his wardrobe business.

[Vanos Strongarm]

Vanos wasn't certain what people want to try and protect or talk for him; maybe it was a combination of his height and the lack of ability to articulate himself in the language that was used by these people, but it was a common human-esque trait to try and help them out. It didn't matter that Vanos was older than most of these people, as they seemed to truly enjoy helping him out. And at that moment Vanos regretted it, as he didn't want to talk to that merchant anymore than he had to. There had to be an alternative tailor that he could get his clothes at, a place where it didn't look like a dress was thrown over his body. After he reluctantly handed the merchant the exact coin for the shirt he looked up to the Vantha companion at his side curiously. Vanos held out the shirt that almost touched the ground as he held it up to his chest with a low grunt as he folded it over his arm again and stepped away from the stand "Vhat do now? Too big to wear, shirt is. Cut off bottom, return for coin? Not needed - vasteful." While Vanos was thankful for the Vantha stepping in and translating for him, he would have rather found someone to make him a shirt that fit him as opposed to altering one that was most likely overpriced to begin with. He chuckled as he tugged on the bottom of the shirt and looked over to the thin and tall form of the Vantha. "Make you shirt from bottom of mine. Not completely vasteful, hm? I no make clothes," Vanos said with a shake of his head. "Metal. Veapons. Not things that burn and disappear easily." As the two men got to one of the main entrances to the market, Vanos stopped as he looked up to the person that helped him and realized his manners had completely slipped past his mind. "Apologies," Vanos said as he held out his hand after transferring the shirt to his larger left arm. "Vanos Strongarm." He said with a very uncharacteristic-Isurian smile while looking up to Syllke.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke readily grasped the offered hand. “Syllke, of the Skyglow Hold. From Avanthal. Nice to meet you.” He eyed the short, muscular man with an unveiled curiosity. “You don’t look like you’re from around these parts either – unless there is something about the Denvali I haven’t heard or seen yet.” He smiled. “Listen, I have a room at the Lyceum. It’s not far from here. If you don’t have anywhere in particular to get to any time soon, come with me and I can make a start on shortening that.” He nodded at the problematic shirt in Vanos’ hand. “And I don’t know if there would be enough for a second one – I’m skinny, but not that skinny.” He laughed. “But I’m sure we can figure something out. I’m not the greatest tailor in the world, but I do know how to sew, and make patterns.” Shrugging, he began walking in the direction of his new ‘home.’ “So, where are you from – and what brought you here to Denval?” If his questions seemed nosy or too forward, Syllke himself was oblivious to that possibility.

[Vanos Strongarm]

"No, not from avound here." Vanos said with a shake of his head as he looked up to the Vantha. He decided that it would be best to follow behind Syllke as he walked back to his place, as standing beside was a bit more problematic walking through a crowd of people being as 'wide' as Vanos was, and to have someone at his side and try and maintain that was near impossible. "Seving vill be better than my solution, rip shirt at bottom and vear top part. Still vearable that vay, it is." As they neared the place that Vanos assumed was his home, he contemplated the right words to respond to the question. Though it shouldn't be that difficult as more bold members of Denval were asking the same things that Syllke was asking just now but he always seemed to stumble over his words. They also seemed to not quite understand when he was pronouncing W-words, as even trying to say the sound that that letter sounded like made Vanos blush with embarrassment. "From Sultros, home of Isurians." Vanos said as they stepped inside and he followed behind obediently. "Here to help vork on road, or at least help to plan it out. Von't be able to get it all done vith just one Isurian on this end." Vanos remained tight lipped about the Isurian stance on the highway; they've been perfectly fine the way everything was, why would they want to connect to the rest of the world? They still had a city to try and rebuild into what it once was and building a human dream was far from a priority for the Isurians. Though Syllke didn't need to know that, maybe Vanos could simply distract him with an Isurian steel needle. One that never broke, and never grew dull - that'd be interesting, right? "Never heard of Skyglow Hold. Vantha building, yes? Vith snow? And something about vhite bears, or something like that. All I remember about the Vantha, I am sorry."

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke walked with a light step, and his companion’s reserve didn’t bother him a bit. Even given the proclivity of the Vantha people for enjoying talking at length, he could certainly appreciate the value of a comfortable silence. The market was crowded and though Syllke would have as gladly chattered away, he was fine with just walking along. Soon enough, they had reached the Lyceum, its quiet, solid bulk as comforting to the young man as it always seemed to be. Truly, it was fast becoming his home. As they entered the cool, quiet interior, he considered Vanos’ explanation and tried to remember what little he knew about the Isurian race. It was basically nothing. Syllke was a hands on learner – he wasn’t inclined to simply listen and absorb knowledge. But now that he had a dyed-in-the-wool Isur captive in his bedroom, as they entered the space that had been the caretaker’s and was now officially his, he was elated to have the chance to learn more about the squat man. “Oh, yes, the road – I’ve heard about that. But I haven’t yet been out to look at it. How’s it coming?” The Vantha looked pointedly at Vanos’ huge arms, the one even bigger than the other. “You look like just the guy to help them out – I bet you can wield a hammer and throw boulders all day and never tire.” His fingers went to the one arm that was greenish hued but stopped short of touching. “Why is this one bigger – and green?” Then he chuckled. “And don’t worry – as you can tell, I don’t know much about your people either. A hold is . . . yes, a building, but also it is like . . . a family. A clan? My clan are the Skyglow, and yeah we do live all together, for the most part. It’s very cozy – and fun!” He laughed. “Is that how the Isur do it? All together in one big dwelling?” As he spoke, he went to a chest, opened the top and rummaged about inside. Drawing out a packet of leather, he sat cross legged on the bed, and unfolded it, revealing several needles, different types of thread and cord and sinew, and a pair of simple scissors. He nodded his head and gestured to Vanos. “Put the shirt on and come here. I need to see where to cut it.”

[Vanos Strongarm]

"Uncertain of condition of road, have not seen yet." Vanos corrected the Vantha as they stepped into his quiet room. His eyes caught on to the fact that this Vantha was about to touch him but pulled away, yet his attention was still on the bigger arm that had a hue of green to the veins that wrapped around his thick and muscled flesh. Vanos lifted the arm for a moment as he gripped his fingers into a tight fist that caused the already bulky and bulging arm to flex and appear even larger. "Strong arm of Isurian. Used for forging. For fighting. Skin very strong, vill not break under threat of sword or other sharp thing." Vanos said with a smile as he held the arm up higher so that the Vantha could let his fingers touch against the flesh. He would find the flesh cold and hard to the touch. If a rock could have the elasticity of flesh, it would feel like what Syllke would be feeling under his fingertips upon inspecting Vanos' flesh further. The veins, while coloured differently, still had the same texture as the rest of the flesh of his arm. "Isurian has to be strong. Must work hard. Eat right. Lift right. Or else will not be Isurian." At the command to walk over to Syllke in the shirt, he struggled to remove the awkward shirt that was draped over his body. The bulges of his arms didn't make this an easy feat as he almost ripped it right off his body and tossed it to the ground. He reached down and put on the shirt that was far too large for his body and walked over to Syllke and felt like he should be carrying the bottom of it bunched in his fist for fear of tripping over himself. "Ridiculous." Vanos grunted out as he let the bottom of the shirt fall to the ground where it made it just his knees. "Vantha no vorry about clothes that no fit. Everything fit you. Or not need clothes where Vantha are from. You used to cold as I am to fire, right?"

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke marveled at the feel of the Isur’s arm, more than perhaps another human might. The Vantha had had little opportunity to work any hard stone, other than jade and soapstone, and those were incredibly difficult unless one knew geomancy – or had a chisel, which he know had ample access to. His still healing hand gave testament to that, unfortunately. But if he had worked different types of stone, Syllke might have compared Vanos’ arm to granite – hard, unyielding, cold. He nodded as he traced his sensitive finger tips over that green hued skin, running them unabashedly over a large silver vein. It was . . . incredible. But even as bold as Sylkke could be, he knew not to run off potential models with being too rude or forward. So, as much as he would have liked to keep running the fingers of both hands over this odd, amazing creature, he left off quickly enough to search for his things. There would be time later – maybe . . . hopefully. Vanos certainly gave off an aura of being a bit . . . grim. Yet at the same time, he had been friendly and open enough. Syllke, always the optimist, felt fairly certain he could somehow, eventually, talk the Isur into posing for him. So, as he sat on his bed, waiting for Vanos to exchange one shirt for the other, he bit down on his lip a bit, to keep from smiling too broadly at the difficulty such a simple feat entailed for the strangely and asymmetrically shaped man. His quick mind was already thinking about how to fashion a shirt that would be easier to take on and off, and maybe more comfortable. He could see the pattern already, and how he would alter it, when Vanos posed his question. This time, Syllke could not help himself. He laughed outright – a bright, merry sound of mirth. Grinning at Vanos – they were about on eye level now that Sylkke was seated – he said, “Oh, we are blessed with Morwen’s protection, but it’s still pretty damn cold to go about naked. Even inside our homes and buildings, we usually have to wear something. And even the Vantha would not get far outside without warm clothes. We have perfected the art of surviving in even the coldest conditions, with Morwen’s grace of course.” Which made him think . . . “Do you . . . do you do your work . . . in the nude?” What other parts of Vanos would have to be rock hard and impervious to fire in order for such an undertaking, Syllke thought in amusement. He plucked at the hem of the shirt, pulling it upwards. Though as his eyes dropped to Vanos’ hip level, he could not suppress another laugh – almost a snort. Was that another something that stayed rock hard all the time? That would be . . . uncomfortable. Maybe that's why the Isur seemed a bit . . . dour.