Try Me (Nashira)

[Aural]

Location: Surya Plaza Timestamp: 43rd of Summer, 470 Wiping the slick coat of sweat from his forehead as he peeked the top of his graying head through the slit in the flap, Tsuri mumbled under his breath at the two Shinya men patrolling the market. The men, dressed in light blue robes that swished around their legs as they walked, had been circling the tent for three bells. It was almost time for the noon rest and not a single customer had come into the tent since the taller Shinya’s dark eyes had made contact with his. While he watched them, his daughter Rhana tugged the backside of his sweat soaked orange tunic, urging him back inside the stifling tent. Even with the flap open, the air was hot enough to bake rice patties. “If you keep doing that, they’re going to think that you’re really hiding something. If I were a customer, I’d be wondering too. You can’t be surprised that no one wants to come in, Father.” Tsuri’s fist slammed down on the wooden plank between them, causing the stones beneath it to wobble. When it settled, so did the air between the pair. Rhana’s brown eyes remained hopeful even though they hadn’t had a customer since the seventh bell. He wished he could share in his daughter’s enthusiasm, but he’d paid for the tent in advance and had seen less than a handful of kina for his endeavors. “The woman who let me read her cards didn’t pay us enough to cover the expense of the tent. If we can’t get them to stop harassing us and spreading rumors about my skills, no one is going to come close to this tent and spend their kina in it. That means you’ll be working for me this fall instead of going back to school.” The old man looked down, away from his daughter as she leaned over across her tightly folded legs to give his leathery hand a loving squeeze. “I couldn't care less about my studies. You're the one who's worried. I care more about your reputation than that. You don't say it, but I know it bothers you the way they treat you with suspicion now, even if it’s only because your sales go down.” She swatted at the black string of hair that had drifted down into her eyes. “There’s no hypnotism happening in this tent, only fortune telling, and that’s not even real! There’s nothing for anyone to see. Sooner or later, they’ll find another distraction and let us get back to business.” His daughter was young and an endless well of hope, but there was no place for hope in a merchant’s ledger, only numbers. In the silence, the smell of roasting goat wafted into the small tent on the breeze. Rhana’s lips turned up into a small smile. “Why don’t we go eat something before the rest? The men might stop watching our tent if they think we aren’t in it anymore.” Tsuri’s cracked lips remained flat and a sour look settled into his features. “You go ahead. They’ll follow you to the cooking fires and I’ll pack up our things while they’re gone. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing us run out. This was a bad idea from the start and I regret that I'm only seeing that now. We could have saved all that kina!” The old man kept an eye on the bald heads of the Shinya men as he held the tent flap aside for Rhana to climb through. It took only a few chimes for them to turn and follow in silence, a short distance behind. In the dark of the baking hot tent, Tsuri began packing up his things, cursing the gods as he went.

[Nashira]

Nashira walked silently through the city streets. Her skin sparkling as it basked in Syna's light. Her long auburn hair cascaded down the length of each of her shoulders, and settled in a place at the center of her back. It clung to the back of her neck, her exposed skin, which was lined with a sheen of salty sweat. It hung in large clods, in some areas, smelling strongly of all the spices which wafted in her general direction. Carried by the occasional wind which swept through the plaza, easing the heat of the otherwise, sweltering hot summer day. Her horns curled about her head, shining as brightly of a newly discovered pearl, recently plucked from the mouth of an oyster. In the light, they seemed to shine a pale pink as well, but for the most part, only a pure white. The Ethaefal swept her hair onto the right side of her body, allowing it to bunch together as it fell over the length of her shoulder, and towards the front of her body. She absently ran her fingers through it, trying to work out the knotted areas, and those heavily laden with her own sweat. Caleb's old sword, which rested in a hilt by her side, struck her legs as she swept through the area. Her bag bouncing lightly against the space in-between her shoulder blades. Her eyes followed the line of tents and stalls- some selling foods and various spices, others wares which ranged from colorful robes to weapons, it seemed. The Ethaefal sighed. Why is it always so difficult to find something you can actually identify to eat in a place such as this? Nashira wondered. Although she was not hungry now, and would not feel hungry now, she knew it would only be a matter of time before the sun set, and she was forced to give into more earthly needs and wants. Things such as want for food and drink. Thus, she figured it best to scout the area out now, and come back later to feast if she could only remember where to go. And although she had spent some time in the city of the stars, the woman could not say she fancied anything in particular, or truly knew her way around. Perhaps it was because of her fragmented memory, an effect she sometimes felt when she shifted forms, or perhaps it was because of something else, but nothing ever seemed to stay the same. At least, not in the plaza. Everything seemed to change, entire stalls disappearing over time, or popping up when they were least expected, in what appeared to be a new portion of town. But surely that was nothing more than the Ethaefal's imagination. Nashira kept on moving, pushing past those who held out their wares for her to inspect. Shouting the prices of various items in kina from time to time. She was simply not interested, at least, not right now. Perhaps she would be, in the future, but that too, seemed doubtful. As she strode along, Nashira took note of the Shinya's presence, of various tents that had sprouted up, sometimes, seemingly overnight. She paused in front of one, which seemed fairly worn, and sniffed the air. It seemed as though something was coming from it. A peculiar odor. A mixture of the pleasant and unpleasant. It drew her inside. Once the tent's flap had fluttered shut, the woman took a look around. The place seemed simple enough, and uninhabited save for herself and an older man, who appeared to be closing up shop. If the place could be called a shop. Nashira cleared her throat, hoping to draw the man's attention away from his work, and onto herself, at least, for a time. "Sorry sir, for intruding, I don't mean to bother you," Nashira began, "but something drew me in here... it makes me wonder what it is you do here. What you sell, or what else you have to offer." Nashira paused, taking the time to swallow a clump of saliva, in the hopes that it would moisten her dry throat, before continuing. "It seems that you're closing up though, so perhaps, it would be best to simply leave, and try again tomorrow." The Ethaefal took a step back, towards the tent flap. She bowed her head slightly. "Good day to you then." OOCErm... that was awkward.

[Aural]

"Sorry sir, for intruding, I don't mean to bother you, but something drew me in here... it makes me wonder what it is you do here. What you sell, or what else you have to offer." Tsuri’s flat eyes skimmed over the Ethaefal’s face as she spoke. The girl looked uncomfortable and a little lost, but something in her threaded voice interested him. He considered her question. What did he have to offer? At that chime, nothing; his services there were a bad joke, played out by the Shinya. Tsuri could feel the girl's unease growing in the silence that remained between them. While his previous curse still stained his lips, she didn’t seem to have heard it. Curious, or perhaps because he saw that she wasn’t as dirty as he and thought she might have a few kina tucked away in her skirts, he eased his hand back off the tin plate in front of him, letting it bang back down beside the board. "It seems that you're closing up though, so perhaps, it would be best to simply leave, and try again tomorrow." Slowly, he stood, the old man’s hips creaking as he rose. As his thin lips parted in protest, she said her goodbyes and turned to go. He reached out to stop her from leaving, grabbing her elbow with his knobbed fingers. An ache that hurt bone deep spread through his hands to his wrist from the simple action, but it didn’t deter him. He hid the pain behind the stony wall of his face, in a heavily practiced movement. “You came into my tent and you don’t even know what I do in here? Do you think that was wise?” OOCNot awkward at all. That was great!

[Nashira]

Nashira turned at the man's touch. Her eyes settling on his own. There was a bit of alarm, playing about the edges, as she slowly lowered her gaze to his grubby hands. Her mind danced, as tiny tendrils of hypnotic djed seeped through her skin, and took root in her hair. Slowly wound its way down her form, by cascading over the length of her shoulders alongside the strands. As the man's hand brushed against the Ethaefal's hair, the djed took hold. Its web circling his fingers and trailing up the length of his wrist, his arm, and towards his hopefully feeble mind. Let go, the djed hissed, like a forked tongue twitching alongside the man's brain. The tip just barely licking the outermost wrinkles. Now, it added, before retracting its tongue, and winding around the man's mind. Circling it lightly, in the hopes that its ideals would take root, but at the same time, that its presence would not be noticed by the stranger. "Must one always know what they are getting themselves into?" Nashira inquired, her voice taking on an edge of Syna's fire. "Must they always know what they are about to find when venturing into the unknown?" Nashira paused, allowing her gaze to harden, to burn into the man's flesh as she trailed her eyes upward, towards his forehead, allowing them to bore holes into the center. Twin holes, that could mark the area where his third eye should be. "Doesn't that take the fun out of exploration? Knowledge? Doesn't that take the fun out of adventure? The hunt?" Nashira fell silent for a moment, as she tore her arm away from Tsuri, and allowed it to return to her side. "No matter," the Ethaefal growled, "there are plenty around who know you, and what you do for a living. Surely, if you were all that dangerous, the Shinya would have shut you down, or even, taken you away by now, to be punished, however they see fit." Nashira's muscles tensed, as she eased her right hand onto the top of the hilt. As she forced her palm to curl against the upper knob of Caleb's old sword. "Even if they haven't yet caught on, how long could it be before they do?" Shira continued. "And how foolish could you be, to challenge someone who is armed, when apparently, you are not?"

[Aural]

He wasn’t blind to her persuasion, it tingled his tightly drawn skin, though he was more surprised by her clumsy display than affected by it. Those Shinya men had sent the Ethaefal, he was sure of it. She was unaware of the tidal wave of reaction her fumbling had caused in him; the ache in his withered bones was nothing compared to the well of anger that shook him, knowing where she’d come from…who had sent her. He bit down hard on his tongue, but not before the spit had rattled between his yellowed teeth. Her luminescent face was a farce, he knew how deeply her taint ran now that he knew which side she stood on. Another clone, that’s all she was. If the Shinya wanted to disarm him, they would have to do better than the little girl in front of him, they’d sent a kitten into a ring of deerstalkers. Speaking of them to the old man was her final act of sin; it cemented his feelings...made him want to force the words out of her chest. While she was busy raking his name across the fires, he’d sent out his own djed, quietly seeking a way inside of her mind. Her fingers toyed with the hilt of her weapon while the tautness in her face belied the idea she toyed with in her mind. If striking him down was her desire, let her try. The man, now wound so tight, air hissed from his lungs, shook the sting out of his recoiling hand. He’d been painfully swallowing the urge to use his gifts since he’d become a target of the Shinya, but no more. He willed her to stay, to turn and to sit, to let go the death grip she had on her weapon and to let him be her...friend. The familiar tang of copper dripped onto his tongue. “Stay,” he whispered, "there's nowhere else to go."

[Nashira]

Nashira raised a single brow, surprised by Tsuri's words. How quietly they were spoken. The tone he chose to take, how much it seemed to differ from that which he had taken before. He seemed calmer now, all the more friendly, whereas before, he dared to be threatening. "What do you mean there's no where else to go?" Nashira inquired, an edge of ice in her voice, as her eyes narrowed. Molten amber slits displaying little more than pure rage. "There's a whole bloody city outside at our disposal. Places to see, people to meet. Nooks and crannies not even the Shinya can find, or wiggle their way into." Nashira paused, hardening her glare, expecting all the more to find the man shrink against her gaze. "If only you keep your hands off of me, I'll be able to explore it," Shira finished, before taking her hand off the hilt of her sword. Tsuri's words were still swimming about the Ethaefal's mind. Taunting her with their difference. Had he simply, bothered to back off when he realized he stood no chance against Nashira? Was he trying to pretend that nothing had happened so as to calm her down, and hopefully ensure she would not cut him? Or was he simply, allowing her to think that she won, when in reality, he was drawing her into a trap? Perhaps that was why, he had alluded to there being no where to run. No where to hide. Either way, Nashira found something so unsettling in those words, that it caused her to tap into her hypnotic djed once more. Caused her to send it spiraling towards Tsuri, in a hope to bind his wrists, turn him to her, and make him listen. Make him see. You feel much. It confuses others. Pick one emotion. Act, the Ethaefal insisted. Display only truth. For several moments after that, Nashira did nothing. She simply stared. Waiting to see how her magic had taken hold. Waited to see the effects, if any were to come to fruition. After she felt as though she had waited long enough, Nashira spoke again, her voice softer, and far more neutral than before. "If that is what you wish, stranger, than it shall be so." She took a step closer to him, towards the center of the tent. Waiting for him to give further direction.

[Hermit]

A tree. A cloud. A tree. A cloud. The images ticked back and forth in the old man's mind, an old trick in order to sense the actions of another Hypnotist. Thoughts that came in to muddle the images were not his own. It didn't always work, this trick. However, with such a base and crude attempt at the art, it would be easy enough to counter her. He listened to her words, watched her movements. The Ethaefal often forgot who they were, it was their nature to hide the bliss that was stolen from them.

The beautiful star was compliant, but this could also be a trick. To an avid Hypnotist, everything that could not originate in one's mind naturally was base and showed a pure weakness. It was akin to watching an obese leper try to fight with a rapier. Vulgar. He felt the tug of decision moving between the images. Two choices, choose one. Act. He nodded and smiled, though it was little more than a crooked grin outwardly, his rage still percolating in his veins.

"I am glad that we can speak properly now, fallen star. Please, sit. I hope you will forgive my actions, the Shinya have given me nothing but trouble today."

He placed his belongings to the side of the table, leaving a space between the seats on either side. Having not moved much since her arrival, Tsuri began to limp heavily toward the opposite seat, the tent wall at his back. He slowly sat, wincing with pain, partly acted and partly not. If he was going to use his abilities to the full effect, he would set the stage as he had done in his youth. A gentle wave of suggestion washed over the creature. It gave the impression of a harmless old man, all bark and no bite. Not a thing to worry over. Safety and dominance were the assertions to believe in. She clearly had the upper hand, so why not take a seat?

[Nashira]

Nashira offered a slight nod in acknowledgment, as she crept forward, towards the inner portions of the tent. As she moved into it, the pungent odors that hung in the air seemed to grow stronger. The air seemed thicker; all the more dense, tightly packed with whatever it was. Sweat, and something else. The Ethaefal's nostrils flared angrily, frustrated by her insistence that they put up with the stench any longer. But she ignored it, as her hands clamped tightly around the back of a chair, and pulled it back. It scraped angrily against the floor, reluctant to move for her. A stranger, who, although she didn't seem to be picking up on it, was not entirely welcome here. Who wasn't entirely safe here. As soon as it had come back as far as it would go, Nashira slid into the chair, and scooted herself into the table. She sat back, allowing her bare shoulder blades to touch up against the rough wood. She could feel it scratching her, as she folded her arms in her lap, and tucked her feet beneath the chair. As her eyes slid up from the table, the man's busying himself with his hands, into Tsuri's eyes. "Thank you," Shira whispered once she had gotten herself comfortable, although she wasn't entirely sure what she was thanking him for. The seat perhaps. The invitation in the place he used to work, or perhaps, even live from time to time, if not for all time. Perhaps it was for his ability to finally see the light, that Nashira meant no harm, unless he tried something stupid. That she was happy for him finally being able to change his colder and standoffish ways, and seemingly, accept her into his midst. "It is nice to be able to speak openly from time to time," Shira wore on. "Not many oft get the privilege." The Ethaefal paused, as she took a moment to pull several strands of her own hair, dampened by several beads of sweat, off her cheeks. She could feel the strands sliding across her skin. Tickling; clinging to the only thing they knew. Trying, relentlessly, not to let go. Sighing to herself, she forced the strands in, behind her ear. That's better, she thought, as she offered Tsuri a small smile, a nearly indistinguishable nod. "They do that sometimes," Nashira continued, referring to the Shinya. "But it isn't because they have anything against you. Not in particular anyway. They are simply trying to carry out their purpose. The Shinya are simply trying to do their job. Help keep us all safe. Help us continue to live in relative harmony," she added, her magic woven into her words, in the hopes that the simplicity of them, and the truth in them, could be heard. So that Tsuri may, be able to find a sense of calm in his heart. After having shared them, Nashira glanced down at her hands. She could feel the sweat that had gathered on her palms. They felt cold, and a little sticky. Self-consciously, she wiped them on the folds of her dress. In her lap. Dragging them across the length of her thighs, until she was satisfied it was all gone. "So what is it you do here?" Nashira finally asked, pretty certain, that Tsuri had never quite gotten around to answering that.

[Hermit]

Taking a rest across from the beautiful creature, Tsuri picked a piece of cloth up and blotted the sweat from his forehead and neck. He had his eyes closed for most of the time that she was speaking to him. It aided him in relaxing and bringing his tone even and his palpitations back under the flesh where they belonged. It also kept her eyes from meeting his, a key in Hypnosis. Only because the eyes were truly windows, though he had never seen a soul in them. Tsuri had often instead breathed on them, like skyglass on a winter's day, writing his directions before they evaporated into suggestion.

He could see when he did open his eyes why the one across from him would one day make a fine Hypnotist. her appearance alone was enough to make the meek males of mind covet her touch. The actual manipulation was probably quite easy for her. He nodded and smiled as she cooed to him of the Shinya and their intentions. She had no doubt never been on the wrong end of a Shinya's Projection. He projected an image of his own, one of benevolence and simplicity. He appeared more and more harmless to her as she attempted to stifle and muzzle him. His palms were flat against the table's surface.

Smiling, he answered her question, though his words sent an emotional messenger among her midst. "Generally, I read fortunes. Business has not been so good, though. What brought you here?...(a nagging itch of doubt passed through him into her) I think you were the one who entered and asked me questions first. Were you not? (a suggestion of memories being unclear and confusion)" I wonder, do you know what brought you in here at all? Perhaps it was the fortune that you seek."

[Nashira]

Nashira drew her hands over her legs a few more times. Easing them along slowly. Allowing the fabric of her dress to rise and meet her skin. To ripple and bunch, wherever she dared to go. She could feel the soft cloth rises, becoming sticky with her sweat, clinging to her sparkling flesh. Tickling her, as the gentle curve of her finger, folded into the soft, protective shield cast by her nail, brushed over it all. She could feel tiny tremors circling the length of her leg, as she kept her eyes down. Fixated on her movements. The molten amber orbs burning tiny holes around the gentle curve of her knuckles. The bunched skin; the knobby bones, strikingly similar to the knee. The Ethaefal smiled weakly, showing her understanding and appreciation for each of Tsuri's words; his many comments. "You sound like one of the fair-skinned Konti women. The seers of the isle on Sylira's coast. One with scales that shimmer in the light, much as one of Syna's children. Blonde hair the color of new autumn wheat," Shira whispered. "But, alas, you are not one of them, and if what you say is true, you merely dabble in their arts. For what if many say is truth foretold, none other than they can see the world for what it is. What it has been, and what it may yet come to be." The Ethaefal paused, as she allowed her hands to settle on her knees, her fingers dipping over the length of her bone. Pressing lightly against the far edge, as she drew her eyes up. Onto Tsuri's own. "Not truly," Nashira added, as her eyes flashed. The dark pits of her pupils flashing. Coming to life. Burning with an inner heat, which caused her to seem, all the more, as though she were simmering. "Perhaps, it comes as no surprise that business would be slow then. For the world; the people here, wish to truly see. Perhaps that is why Zintila shines so brightly- her stars- they illuminate everything they touch. Bring happiness and understanding even in the darkest of times, for they simply, provide the necessary light." Nashira's fingers glided over her skin. Coming into her palms, and then, being forced out again. Scratching her skin, tickling, as she sat somewhat nervously. "Take it not as an insult to your art, or your ability," the Ethaefal began again. "But I am in no mood for fortunes- a simple truth imbedded within a pit of lies. There is no time for lies; anything but the truth. Perhaps then, that is what was being sought, even if it may not have been recognized in the beginning, when only one's feet seemed to know where to go: the truth. Knowledge." Again, Nashira's eyes flashed, as though the coals were being churned, so that they may sprout a new life. A new flame, and intensity. "So, if not a fortune, what else would you be able to provide? As far as the pursuit of such things may be concerned?" There was a slight pause, before Nashira sent a gentle, nagging breath of djed to the man's ear. To whisper, to beg, for the truth. For the simple knowledge of what he had come to love.