Falling...(Open)

[Star]

69th Day of Spring, sometime after the 20th bell Falling... I'm...falling? Why am I falling?! Has Leth forsaken me?! This was what was going through the poor Ethaefal's mind as she fell. She flailed and kicked as she felt water around her and finally managed to calm down enough to swim to the surface. She gasped for breath and searched the horizon for land, swimming towards it when she spotted it. She crawled onto the shore and slowly stood, brushing her wet hair from her face. Her violet eyes searched for some kind of shelter and she spotted a building with light shining from the windows. She staggered to the building and opened the door, tripping and falling to her hands and knees as she stepped inside. She raised her head to see nearly everyone in the place staring at her. "What's your name sweetie?" A man said with a lecherous grin. She stared at him and tried to say her name but found she couldn't and so she simply said,"Star..." She started to open her mouth to ask more but was interuppted by a rude drunk man saying loudly, "Meeeeeoooowww!" She turned her head to glance at the man and when he just gave her a grin, she continued talking. "W-where am I? What happened?! Why am I here?!" There was a panicked tone in her voice and there was confusion and fear in her eyes.

[Wrenmae]

“Shyke,” The bar fell quiet, eyes turned on the hunched body strained over the bartop, lank, lithe. “Closest place in the world you’ll come to Shyke, girl, and you’ve walked naked into a den of wolves.” Shroud turned to look at her from where he straddled the stool, dark eyes appraising her wet and glimmering curves, how the firelight touched her body, cradled it, attacked it with its hungry lover’s maw. A drunk stood, staggering sideways as the world tilted on an angle. Old and wretched, like the rest of them, his gap-toothed grin was ill intentioned and his hands groped out for her. Shroud slid off the barstool and placed a hand on the drunk’s shoulder, guiding him toward another seat and whispering into his ear. “There, there old fellow,” Shroud murmured, slipping trust into his tone and seeding it along the line of communication. “You’ve had one too many, I’d say…let’s let the treating man have first grab at the skin hmm?” He slipped the brief memory of himself into the drunk’s mind, the way he’d shelled out all those mizas so the poor fool could drink, talking, laughing. The conversation was faded and fuzzy, but the feelings of acceptance and camaraderie resonated in the old mans head. He nodded, a bit disappointed, but took Shroud by the arm and thanked him in a low rattling voice. Stepping away from him, Shroud approached the girl with the curved horns and paused in front of her, appraising her, measuring her. “Star, hmm? A fitting name for one so delicate, but you’ve landed in the wrong night sky.” He stepped past her, taking off his cloak and handing it over, a rare act of generosity from the usually cold murderer. “Sunberth is the city of the wretched and the damned. No one here to protect a star, girl, no matter what kind you are.” He took a seat, pressing the uneven grain against his back, rubbing it back and forth to scratch and itch. “You’re better off flying back up to wherever you dropped from, or leaving the city altogether.” Grinning, he reached out to touch her, just barely holding back and then withdrawing the outstretched hand and fingers, “No room in this city for stars…unless.” He smiled again. “Unless they’re made of fire.”

[Star]

Star stared at the man with wide, almost child-like eyes and watched as he moved the drunk old man away from her. She hugged the cloak to her and stood, this time being careful so she wouldn't fall. As he told her she should fly back up to where she dropped from, she looked out the window and looked at the bright moon with sad eyes. "I don't know how...." She looked down and pulled the cloak tighter around herself. "Where do I go?" she asked, looking out the window again with a sigh and murmuring, "Leth please guide me...Why did you let me fall?"

[Owan Bardson]

Owan had claimed a seat in the corner of the building, watching the door. It was an old habit; one that his father had taught him on the rare occasions that they'd gone into cities together. Normally The Bard had left him at the camp to spar with his mother, but occasionally he'd allow the boy to ride with him. On the even more rare occasions that they'd stop for longer than a few moments in the city, The Bard refused to sit anywhere but the corner seat. He'd said it was to catch any lurkers that might have been following them about. They weren't exactly the most well-liked group of people.

He raised his eyes from his hands when the door opened. He hadn't been drinking. He'd been sitting and thinking when his attention had been stolen by the naked girl at the door. He'd seen a lot of strange things in Sunberth...but this was a first. She looked wet, like she'd been dropped in a water trough and dumped in front of the tavern. He wondered if she was stupid, or just insane. Walking around Sunberth was dangerous enough on a good day. Add in a pretty girl with no clothes on and you had the recipe for one bad night.

He leaned back in his chair and watched, waiting to see how the situation developed. So far, it looked like the poor girl was in for a bit of trouble. Owan sighed and loosened the ax in his belt. He couldn't, in good conscience, let the scum who called the bar home have their way with her. He was halfway to his feet when one of the men at the bar spoke. He stood and led one of the drunks away, before giving his cloak to the naked girl. A groan came from a group of drunks in a corner, and Owan silenced them with a sharp glance. He may well have been a ruthless bandit, but he understood the concept of morality.

He listened as the man who'd rescued her spoke. He was eloquent; his speech practiced and precise. Owan decided to make his way over to the pair. Maybe he was curious about the girl's story. Maybe he wanted to hear the man speak. Perhaps he was just bored with no company but his own. Whatever the reason, he decided to join them. He caught the last few things the girl said and crossed his arms.

"Where do ye go? Ye go wherever'll take ye in," Owan said, dragging a stool over and dropping down onto it. "Because he's a God and yer a mortal. Yer less than dust to him."

[Wrenmae]

Shroud eyed the newcomer with measured distrust. It was a common expression in Sunberth. Anywhere else and it might be insulting, but here it was the common fair of passing strangers. It had been his original intention to leave the bar, but the girl seemed shaken, shivering in his cloak. Roughly, Shroud pressed down on her shoulder, forcing her into a stool and taking one as well, rubbing a hand over his hair irritably. "Let you fall, hmm?" His eyes roved over the skin presented from the folds of his cloak, then back out the window, "Who says you weren't pushed?" He didn't smile then, not to follow up something that serious. He watched her eyes, the way they were so wide, frightened unsure. She was a victim, like everyone else in Sunberth but he and this other man. The way he stared...he was a predator. Only two kinds of people, after all. "If she let you fall, she could have chosen a better place. Naked girl in a city of anarchists, rapists, and criminals is hardly where you'd put a devout follower." He took a beer off the other table, casting out his Djed into the minds of those there. He fed them the brief flash of the girl slipping skin, playing off what their minds already wanted to see. They looked, he took the mug and placed it in front of her. "Drink." It wasn't a suggestion.

[Star]

Star turned her head quickly to look for the source of the new voice, turning so fast that her long hair slapped across the face of anyone within range. She glared at the man and exclaimed in a voice much unlike her timid, scared one just a little bit earlier, "I am not a mortal! I'm a Daughter of Leth!" She made a small noise of surprise as she was forced to sit in a stool and looked from one man to the other, unsure what to do or say. When the first man suggested she had been pushed, all the fight that had been in her when she was angry at the other man left her and was replaced with fear once again. When he put the drink in front of her, she stared at it for a few seconds and let go of the cloak with one hand to pick it up. As she sipped the drink with a wrinkled nose, the cloak slipped off her shoulders some.

[Owan Bardson]

Owan noticed the distrust in the man's eyes. It wasn't an uncommon expression -far from it in a city like Sunberth- and as such Owan didn't take it personally. He listened to as the man spoke, unsure as to whether or not he was being serious. The lack of laughter and the grim look in his eyes seemed to give it away. Owan couldn't help but smile wryly, whether or not he was supposed to. The idea struck him as funny. The man took a beer from one of the tables and set it in front of the frail figure, commanding her to drink.

Before she put the cup to her lips she lashed out, shaking her head and sending her hair whipping back and forth. Owan felt the brush of the most far-reaching tendrils on his face and listened as she railed against him. A Daughter of Leth? He couldn't help but laugh.

"Ye look mortal to me. Sure ye may not age like I do, but yer not in the heavens anymore love. As my unnamed compatriot has pointed out, yer beloved god's dropped ye in hell," Owan said, leaning back on his stool, still chuckling. He couldn't help himself. He watched as the girl calmed and took a sip of her beer, wrinkling her nose. As she went to take another the cloak slid down her shoulders, offering Owan -and the rest of the bar- another look at her skin. Owan uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, tugging the cloak back up as he did so.

[Wrenmae]

Shroud waited for her to finish the drink. The alcohol might bring a bit of warmth back to that shivering body. It would do no good for her to catch cold now. He nodded absently to his companion, staring out the window. It was as though he were examining the distant moon for an answer for Star, almost communing. In truth, his mind tumbled with numbers and faces, the shifting atmosphere of a Sunberthian. Subconciously, Shroud pulled the cloak farther up on her shoulders, bunching the material there so it could hang with better perch. Each movement seemed characterized by a careful sort of care, almost concern. Unlike the others in the bar, their eyes for her skin and the curves of her body, Shroud acted with what appeared to be genuine concern for the girl. When she had finished the drink, sip after sip wrinkling her perfect little nose, he stood and put a hand gently on her shoulder. "You're new to Sunberth, so let me show you a place to stay." The entirety of the tavern shook with dissapointment, but Shroud only offered them a dissaproving glare. He paused when Owan made to stand up as well, his eyes darting between him and the girl to the axe on his belt. A scowl, momentary and gone as quickly as it came, crossed his features before a more placid acceptance replaced them. "Shroud," He offered, pushing two fingers into his own chest, "Not that a name matters much here, men kill for less than the right to bare names. Best keep yours close, lest your enemies use it against you." Pushing the tavern door open, he stepped out into the street of Sunberth, glancing down the alleys and open roads before nodding the two of them to follow. He took off south, through Sunberth, at a trot. "Keep up, and be aware of your surroundings," The murderer warned, "Never stare at the alleys, only be aware that you're watched. Fall behind and be left behind, I'm escorting you to a safe place to stay...that is the limits of my generosity." He seemed uncomfortable, his eyes constantly catching the hints of skin flashed through the cloak he'd lent her, the moonlight glistening off her drying body seeming to distract the man each time they turned a corner. Deeper into Sunberth they strode, and Shroud entertained few questions, absorbed in directions and peeping at her with uncomfortable embarrassment, his lips pursed, his mind racing.

[Star]

Star followed Shroud but kept close to the big man with the axe, pressing her small body to his side. She was shaking a little but from fear, not from the cold. She could see the people in the alleys, waiting for her to get too close. She watched Shroud curiously, unsure what to make of his actions. His actions towards her so far seemed careful, like he was worried about her, but he was staring at her like the other men. "Why are you so kind to me?" she asked, directing the question to both men. "Why are you protecting me? The other men look at me like hungry wolves but you two are nice..." Star heard a small whimpering, whining sort of noise and turned her head to find a small, ragged looking, stray dog limping out of a dark alley. "Ohh poor puppy...!" she exclaimed and started to move towards it, approaching the mouth of the alley.

[Owan Bardson]

Owan sat silently on his stool, watching as the girl sipped her beer. He considered calling for a mug of his own but decided against it. It was probably swill anyways; a waste of good coin if it was anything. The man nodded almost dazedly in Owan's direction, and he returned the gesture with an almost imperceptible nod of his own. He let his eyes return to the girl in the cloak. Saying she was small was an understatement. Owan doubted she'd come to his chin. The man -for Owan wasn't sure if he'd call them companions, at least not yet- pulled the cloak higher on the girl's shoulders and stood. Owan caught the quick scowl that crossed his face, gone as quick as it had come.

"Aye. Just call me Bard," Owan said, borrowing his father's name. Shroud -if that was his name- made a good point. Owan followed the pair out of the tavern, his long legs eating up the ground in front of him. He assumed Shroud was mentoring the girl. Owan'd learned to survive in Sunberth well enough over the last few years. The eyes in the night had become his constant companions; his only friends, mixed with a healthy dose of those who'd cut his throat for his coin-purse. It was comforting in an eerie way. Shroud seemed uncomfortable, jogging ahead, eyes occasionally coming to rest on the girl he was escorting. It only made sense. Every man had their needs, and Owan had openly admired the girl when she'd stumbled into the bar.

Owan continued to follow Shroud into the darkness, keeping a hand on his axe. The feel of the blade in his hand was a comforting presence, keeping the unfriendly eyes at bay. The girl walked close to him, pressing into his side. She'd be an inconvenience in a fight, if it were to come to that. He'd have to shove her out of the way to pull the shield off of his back. Her presence was disconcerting, and he wondered why she felt it necessary to stay so petching close. Maybe he made her feel safe. Poor fool'd be disappointed if it came to violence. He'd take care of himself before he even spared her a thought. Owan Bardson wasn't the type of man to lay his neck on the line for some street waif he'd just met.

"Kind? I'm just along for the walk lass," Owan said. Protecting her? Owan smiled in the moonlight. "And nice? I've been called many things in my life, and those are neither of 'em," he said, smiling wryly. A petcher, a right bastard, and a stubborn arse maybe but never kind...or nice. A stray dog came limping out of the alleyway and the girl made to start toward it. Owan clamped down her arm with his disfigured left hand.

"Stay close lass," Owan said, far from gently. The little fool'd walk right into a petching trap at this rate. "Follow Shroud and don't stray from the path. Ye stray from the path and ye die. That's how Sunberth works."