Completed Stepping Onto New Shores

[Mak'Viri]

16th Day of Winter, 512AV

The long journey across the Silver Lake and to the Sylira Region had been largely uneventful for Mak'Viri. She had merely ridden a small raft to a larger dock at the other shore, which took her down a river, which flowed into the sea. She hadn't had to pay for the ride, considering it had been arranged by one of Mak'Viri's few friends, but she did have to keep an eye on her coin purse. Her Suvai were always concealed in her dark brown boots, their bone blades ready for anything. They felt disappointingly superfluous in light of the rather boring trip she had made. She sighed as the boat continued on its course to land that seemed would never appear. I'll endure a few more hours of this boredom, she thought to herself, and then I'll go lay back down. She leaned over the banister as the sea-scented winds chilled and gently tickled her face, flinging her hair from its loose pile at the base of her head to dance. None of the deck-hands paid her any mind.

She blinked as something broke her vision of the endless stretch of water quite suddenly, and a cry from above in the crow's nest signaled that they had spotted land. Excited, she whirled about to verify if they had at last reached the intended destination. The deck-hands were all now running about, preparing goods below to be traded, hauling rope and swabbing the deck restlessly, but she managed to chase one down to ask, and she received a brusque nod. At last! With an exuberant laugh, she ran to the fore of the ship and leaned over its edge to watch the fast-approaching strip become wider and taller, and as the sun rose, tinting the sky with flame that danced over the rippling tide, she threw the hood of her dark cloak over her head, tucked the fly-away tendrils of white hair. She felt the thrum of nervous excitement flood her veins as the shores of Zeltiva grew closer and closer.

The comforting rocking of the boat came to a jarring halt as they hit the shoreline, and Mak'Viri was ready to climb out before they had even set down the docking plank. She ignored the incredulous looks she got as she hopped over the ship's edge and jumped into the muddy waters, soaking a good portion of her sea-foam-coloured dress, and eagerly looked around her as she waded to shore herself, pale violet blue eyes taking in the harbor with passing interest and staring at the city beyond with fascination. When she stood upon solid land at last, she could hardly keep herself from running toward the streets, its people emerging from their houses, opening up shoppe windows, and beginning to fill the once-quiet town with sound as the hustle and bustle of the day truly began.

She watched the goings-on with wide eyes until her stomach rumbled around noontime from passing by an open tavern window. She tilted her head a little and entered with only one more prompting growl, and instantly moved to an empty table near the back corner, patiently waiting the barmaid while looking around curiously. The woman that approached her when she was noticed was a short woman with plump, ruddy features and a booming voice that startled Mak'Viri when she spoke.

"Hey there! What'll it be, darlin'?" She asked almost too loudly in the semi-quiet of the mostly-empty room. Blinking away her surprise, Mak'Viri asked for a little of whatever was already made, and some water, as she was unused to drinking much else. The woman nodded with a grin and moved far more swiftly than Mak'Viri would have thought possible for one so round as she. She disappeared into a back room relatively quickly, and Mak'Viri sat back in her chair, watching the other patrons a little warily, hood still up and hands curled up in her lap to conceal their odd webbing. She didn't want to attract too much attention to herself.

[Laioath]

The sun climbs into the sky, slowly it spreads the golden light over the city of Zeltiva. Laioath is in bed, enjoying the tranquility of being asleep. His slumber was interrupted as the sun shone through the window, piercing his eye like and forcing them open. Laioath groans and tosses himself around to protect his peaceful state. He succeeds, he begins to feel drowsy again. His eye lids became heavy, his breath deepens, his vision starts to fade. Laioath is finally asleep again. Until... growl. His stomach is roared as Laioath to get up. Laioath Sprung up into a sitting position. Eyes barely open, hair bedraggled and slightly drooling, he stands up and prepares to go out.

After prepping himself into his casual attire, he greets Earnis into the new day. "Gooddd mooornnnning, Earnis" he said as he yawns. Earnis stood there, staring vaguely in front of her. "I've got to get something to eat, so we're going out now". Laioath picks up Earnis and places her on his back, Laioath created a small bag big enough for Earnis to sit in. He opens the door and takes a step out. he breaths in the new day and locks the door behind him. "Now, heres' that place i eat at?" he said to himself as he starts walking.

As Laioath made his way to the tavern, he noticed a ship bring people in to Zeltiva. He wonders if he should at least try to talk to people instead of talking to the dolls he makes. He watches the people jump off the boat and make their way to the city, and shortly after a growl reminded him that he should get going. Laioath makes his way to the tavern, he enters and searches for a seat. He spots one and plops himself at the table, he places Earnis next to him and begins to attract the barmaids attention.
"Hi There. What do you and your friend want?" The barmaid asked quite loudly. "I'll just have what you have available, I'm sort of hungry now", Laioath said matching the volume as the barmaid.
She gives Laioath an odd look, she begins staring at the doll. "what about your friend?" she asked lowering her voice.
"She won't eat..., she's ill and only has three days to live..." , He said with a serious tone.
The barmaid looks at the doll in worry, she nods and smiles before walking away to collect the meal.

Laioath enjoys his meal as he snickers about the doll being ill. He eats the meal swiftly, finishing it within minutes. He exhales as a sign of his hunger being satisfied. He takes a moment to rest at the tavern, he stares at the doorway of the tavern to pass time. He notices a woman walking in, He knew she wasn't human by looking at her. Laioath remembered that he saw that person jump off the boat. He wonders if he should talk to her and welcome to Zeltiva, or just leave. After evaluates his options and decides he will talk to her. Laioath stands up, placing Earnis on his back, that advances in that woman's direction.
"H-h-hello there", it was a nervous start, but he pulls thought.
"I assume you are new here, I'm Laioath. If you'd prefer, 'Oath is fine. What is your name?", Laioath moves his hand in order to shake her.

OoCsorry my first time posting, hope it's okay

[Mak'Viri]

The tavern seemed a little quiet at first, but as Mak'Viri waited for her food, she noticed people begin to trickle in, and the noise started to swell. She ducked her head, fighting her own discomfort. It wasn't like Mura, the calm, peaceful city with its women so very understanding and caring. This place was loud, boisterous, full of goings-on that were centered around the varying natures of the people within.

Some were quiet, stealthy, and barely noticeable. Others were loud and riotous. Others still were angry, scathing things. And others even still were aloof and studious. The noise that many of them created varied in language, volume, and ferocity. Fights broke out randomly while people looked on, cheering or shouting obscenities. There were the random sounds of animals outside, the noise from the streets, the chill of winter seeping inside as the door opened and closed, and so many more sounds and noises and smells that invaded Mak'Viri's senses in an assault as culture shock began to set in.

All of these things were frazzling Mak'Viri's nerves and fragile sensibilities even as they intrigued and excited her imagination. She blinked dazedly around her for a moment before shaking her head, sending her hood flopping down, revealing the white hair she had tried to conceal for a little while. Would other places be like this one? She wondered. She knew she wouldn't be lingering in this place for too long.

Her intuition told her that she would be needing a few days to adapt to this place, perhaps explore the area a little, and then move on to the next place and so on until she found whatever she was being led to. She glanced up as the barmaid came over and placed a large plate of various breads, meats, cheeses and fruits in front of her. She withdrew three silver Mizas and placed them in the woman's waiting hands before turning back to her enormous plate.

"I distinctly remember asking for a little amount of food..." she murmured to herself, the sound swallowed up as some patrons, having already had too much ale, began to sing loudly, and off-key. She picked at some bread absently, bringing small chunks of it to her mouth as she lowered her eyes to the grainy table, following the rough, uneven texture as it made small patterns in the light of the windows and flickering torches. She picked at small pieces of cheese shortly after raising her head a little, putting them with the chunks of bread, along with bits of fruit to sweeten it, though she didn't get very far when someone approached her table.

He greeted her, and it seemed just as timid as she felt, which was of some comfort to her. She examined him carefully when he spoke. He was human, with dark hair and brown eyes and darker skin. She blinked curiously at him, catching sight of the doll on his back, which she knew, even as isolated within Mura as she had been, was unusual for a human male, or a human at all, really, to have. He held his hand out to her. She tilted her head, and glanced at his face and then to his hand, and then back again. With a vague shrug, she took his hand very gently, not shaking it, as she had seen some do when visiting Mura, just holding it briefly before quickly withdrawing her hand with a nod.

"Yes, I'm new." She said a little too quietly. She could barely hear herself. She repeated the statement a little more loudly, just enough to be heard over the drunken singing, which had swelled as others less and more drunk chimed in with what was apparently a well-known tune. "My name is Mak'Viri. Pleased to meet you, Laioath." Disarmed by his approach, and getting no particular intuitive feeling about him, she gestures to one of the empty chairs at her table. "Will you join me?" She asks with a small smile.

[Laioath]

Laioath's thoughts are clouding, screaming at his decision. He wants to back away, but he has already greeted her. Laioath stood there nervously, it felt like time has slowed down to a crawl. He sees the woman's eyes wander from him to doll on his back. He watches her face as she determines if she should respond. Her lips moves, but her voice was too quiet, and was over powered by the drunkards' singing. She attempts again, but more louder, Laioath could just hear her voice. She said that she is new here and that her name was Mak'Viri. Laioath was fascinated about her name, he knew it wasn't a human name.

Mak'Viri asks Laioath to take a seat, she gestures an empty chair opposite to her. Laioath looks at the empty seat, he think about taking up her offer, but isn't sure. He doesn't sense any danger coming from her, and he dons't partially wants to be rude during the introduction phase. after a brief moment his decision became final as he wanders towards the seat, planting himself on the chair, placing the doll next to him. He looks at Mar'Viri trying to guess what race she was. He didn't want to ask, cause that would be rude, he allows the question to burn within his mind.

As Mak'Viri took a small portion of bread, moving it towards her mouth and eats it. The table was quite for a while, then Laioath begins speaking.
"So, Where are you from?", he asks.
"I can tell that you're a fair distance away from home, What bring you out here? If you don't mind me asking"
Laioath fixes up Earnis as she begins to leans, about to fall of the chair. He places her with her back against him. his focus shifted back to Mak'Viri, awaiting an answer

[Mak'Viri]

Laioath was hesitant, still wary of her, which she understood and didn't hold against him. She felt that way herself about many of the people in Zeltiva, simply because she didn't know what to expect. She'd heard many of the horror stories growing up of Konti women getting captured and sold to be used for their divinations. This was a fear in the back of her mind, one that was as ever-present as her own intuitions were, a little voice whispering the darkest, vile things that were done to those women if she failed to produce the desired results for her captors. So when, after a moment of consideration, Laioath sat himself and the doll down, Mak'Viri gave him a friendly smile, in an attempt to calm his nerves and her own a little, as they seemed to be getting in the way of making a new friend.

She picked at her food now, bypassing the strange meats (as she had never really eaten anything but fish, shellfish, squid and eel before) in favor of the fruits, cheeses and breads. She made small layered pieces, placing cheese pieces atop chunks of bread, and bits of fruit on top of the cheese. They were almost decorative, if sloppy, like a child's first artwork in their plate. Mak'Viri had never had any particular taste for the arts, mostly because she had never really had the time as a child to explore that part of herself, finding it unnecessary and ill-suited for preparing her for the future. Now, though, she wondered if she should seek out some form of artistic recreation to earn some Miza while she stayed among the city.

She blinked herself out of her thoughts when Laioath spoke, and considered, for the first time in her life, lying about her origins. She thought for a moment, listening to that small part of her that had guided her actions and inactions for so very long. She got the feeling that lying would not be productive, and that, here, her origins as non-human were painfully obvious. She wouldn't be getting away with whatever pathetic attempt she came up with, either. So she decided to speak the truth.

”I'm from Konti Isle.” She begins slowly, eyes darting to nearby patrons, but no one seemed to be paying her or her companion any mind. ”From Mura.” She said, her gaze drawn uncomfortably to the doll as Laioath straightened it from falling. She was uneasy with having said these words out loud, but knew that hiding her very nature would be a difficult one. She would have to be very, very careful when going to other lands, she decided. She would have to wear her hood always, and find better clothes to conceal herself when among hostile people and places. A trip to the market was definitely in order later.

To Laioath's last question, Mak'Viri couldn't help but look at him with a mysterious smile, one that spoke of wisdom and mischief as she replied, ”I'm here because I knew I needed to be here.”

[Laioath]

Laioath watches as Mak'Viri eats her food, he notices that she avoids picking up the meat on her plate. Laioath became more curious to whom she is, and where she came from. He's seen people disliking vegetables, fruits and fish, especially fish, but he's never seen a person avoid meat. His curiosity soon shifted to amusement as Mak'Viri begins to stacking her food on top of each other on her plate. The way the food was stacked on her plate slightly annoyed him, he prefers the cheese to be place on top of the bits of fruit. He focus on Mak'Viri who was about to speak.

Mak'Viri tells Laioath that she came from Konti Isle from Mura. As he heard these words, Konti echoes within in his mind. He knew he heard this word from somewhere, but he can't quite remember. He scans through his memories frantically, trying to find information that matches with the word. He furrows his eye brows in his thoughts. He looks at Mak'Viki in hope of finding any clues that could jog his memories. It was no good, he couldn't remember anything. He looks at Earnis in defeat, but he hasn't completely given up.

He awaited the answer to the second question he asked, keeping the word Konti in mind. He looks at Mak'Viri and notices that she’s smiling, but it didn't create a friendly atmosphere, instead a mysterious one. This captures Laioath's interest and wants to hear her response. She gives a somewhat wise but vague answer. He distorts his lips in dissatisfaction. He fixes his posture and says, “not the answer I was expecting, but it's an answer". He laughs. he takes a breath in and out, then crosses one arm over and placing his other vertically on top of it, adopting a thinker pose. He still wants to know what did the word Konti meant, or what it was. He began to stare vacantly at her, not knowing he's doing so.

[Mak'Viri]

Mak'Viri felt a small sense of impending doom, not guided by her intuitions, but by her own fear, having given her origins away to someone she'd just met. Granted, he was as nervous of her as she of him, and she'd had no particular intuition regarding him as a danger or anything else, so she'd allowed herself to say where she was from, and thus, what she was, but that didn't stop her from feeling the unease of admitting it in so public a place.

She watched Laioath's face carefully, looking for elated greed, wicked delight, anything that would make him a foe to her. She found only the confusion that comes from not quite being able to place a word in ones own mind. She felt relief flood her, sweet and brief, before she looked around to see if anyone else wore that look. No one did.

Finally letting go of the last of her anxiety, she turned back toward Laioath, and more specifically, his doll. Curiosity getting the better of her, she examined its appearance, the careworn way its hair was kept, the loving signs of restoration from a previously battered state, the neat clothes it wore. She appeared very small, fragile, and childlike, something that all Konti women were often mistaken for. She was, perhaps, reading into this a bit too much, but she identified with the doll a little, and it seemed so very life-like, despite its tiny imperfections.

She looked back to Laioath, and asked gently, ”Where did you get a doll like that one?” Her intuition asserted that being too invasive as to the doll's origins would not be a good thing, would be painful in some way, so she tried to make her question as harmless as possible, and hoped that Laioath would be spared whatever pain came from inquiring about it. ”It's very well-made. Did you make her?”

[Laioath]

As the drunkards sing there cheery, off beat song, Mak'Viri looks around the room with worry in her eyes. Laioath had no idea why she was worried. She didn't look like a criminal, or a runaway. Her tension relaxes after a brief gaze around the room. Laioath was still deep in thought, his eyes moves back and forth, as if he was reading his thoughts as if it were a book. As he broods, the drunks began to sing louder and louder, to the point of the barmaid stepping in and telling them to shut up, this didn't disturb Laioath's thoughts though. However, his thoughts soon disburse when Mak'Viri asks him about the doll. She wanted to know the location he got her from or if he made it. Laioath looks at Earnis, his eyes fill with grief.

He picks up the doll, and stands her on the table to give a proper view of her. Earnis was Laioath's elder sister's doll. She received it as a gift from her master at a young age. She was an apprentice wizard who apparently died during her exploration, but Laioath didn’t believe it. He kept the doll as a reminder of his sister. Laioath stares at the doll, she has brown wavy hair that went down her back , the well-made aristocratic dress, and the smooth surface. He shifts his sight from Earnis to Mar’Viri. He couldn’t tell her the whole story, as it would reopen wounds from his childhood. He simply pulls a smile to cover his grief.

He stares at Mak’Viki as he tries to form an answer. His brain mashed together bits and pieces of information in hope to make a believable story. “A friend gave it to me” are the words that left his lips. “It was a gift from a friend, cause he-she knew I like making dolls, she-he was very kind” he said, trying to sound natural. He looks at the doll again as he begins to speak once again. “I wish I knew where it was from though, the craftsmanship of this is far beyond my talent.” He said with sincere words. His crafting skills cannot be matched to the person who made this. The detail of the doll, the hand-made clothing, this was in the hands of an expert. He turns to Mak’Viki, hoping that she believed his answer. He stares at her snow white hair, and pale complexion. His thoughts never left his mind despite taking about the doll, his desire to know what Konti was burned stronger at time pasts by. “I hope that was the answer you’re looking for”, he said with a smile. “Does it capture your interest?” he asks, forming a plan to help him solve his miniature dilemma.

[Mak'Viri]

Mak'Viri could plainly see that her queries were not as harmless as she had tried for, could see the pain screaming, raw and deeply darkening his eyes, though he smiled to mask it as he answered it, lifting the doll upon the table so she could see it better. She felt like she should apologize for being callous, but was unable to as he spoke, telling of a friend that had given it to him. She dipped her head in silent apology, instead, and expressed with her face that she had seen his pain, her face a mix of contrite and sorrow.

She turned her attention slowly back to the doll, taking in the smaller details that were now close enough for her to see, like the richness of the brocade fabrics of her dress, the tiny, detailed embroidery and laces at the hems, the fragile-looking silks of the adorning sashes and the tiny ribbon laces trailing from her wrists, bodice, hair, and ankles. She was cast from a clay, perhaps, her face so white and stone-like, that she could have been ceramic or even carved of a stone or even bone of some kind. Her face was painted very well, the tiny brush strokes made the face come alive, and her large glass eyes seemed to stare at all around her.

She was a beautiful thing, so when Mak'Viri was asked if she captured her interest, she nodded with a small smile. ”She does, indeed. I never had such a doll, growing up. Much of my time was spent learning medicine.” She replied, looking back at Laioath, catching the thoughtful expression now upon his face. ”I hope you find the one who made her. Perhaps you can study under them.” She said with warm sincerity. For it was true, she did hope that such a thing would come to pass, and she felt intuitively that the possibility of it was high. She smiled more broadly at the thought. Perhaps that would also help Laioath with the pain he carried with him.

She would pray for him, she thought to herself. Such troubles should not burden a soul so very young, and Laioath could not have been beyond the very cusp of adulthood. Granted, as Konti, Mak'Viri was not very old, herself, but Konti women tended to mature extremely quickly, her moreso than most. She looked at the doll again, her eyes captured by the fly-away tendrils of her dark hair. She thought that, perhaps, such a beautiful doll should have sisters.

Perhaps she should suggest Laioath browse the traveling markets, and concentrate his attentions are the more affluent merchants that were more likely to carry such exquisite luxuries, but then dismissed the thought, sure that he already had tried such a thing before, or was already in the process of hunting down information. Her intuition said that he was hunting something actively, so she left it alone.

[Laioath]

After he spoke, he could see Mak'Viri lowering her head slightly, as if she was apologising for something. He assumes that she knew he was lying and apologised for asking. Laioath couldn’t do anything but keep a smile on his face. He listens to her words as she explains that she’s didn’t have a doll growing up, and that she grew up learning about medicine instead, and that he should find the creator. What she said clicks in his mind, like an electrical pulse resonating throughout his mind. Konti and medicine, he remembers reading in his sister’s grimoire about an all-female race that came from Konti Isle, Mura. A race talented in medicine, and had a second form of sight, seeing into the future. His sister left a side note about these people, but the book was too worn at the time. He could only make out four words, free, attempt, slave and escape.

Laioath looks at Mak’Viri once again, this time matching the descriptions from his sister’s notes. There’s no doubt in his mind, she’s a Konti. He feels stupid for not knowing this on first glance, but at least he found an answer. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to hide it, because she told him where she was from. His facial expression shows slight relief from satisfying his curiosity. His little plan worked. He looks at Mak’Viri and continues the conversation. “Thank you, I hope I do meet him, or her. It would be a privilege to study under that person” He said, smiling once again. “You said you’re good with medicine, do you enjoy it?” He wonders if she was actually here for work, or ingredients to make remedies. Laioath has never actual seen proper medicine before. If he had a cut or got sick, he had to endure it.

Despite Laioath being his age, his curiosity hasn’t changed from when he was a child. He was fascinated about medicine, and how Mak’Viri made it. Does she use some sort of magic, does she mix it in a pot, or does she summon a god? His mind spat out many ideas. “What other ‘abilities’ do you have?” his tongue slipped. As soon as those words left his lips a brief reminder from his subconscious told him that he shouldn’t refer to her racial abilities. He hesitates, looks around the room to talk about in hope to divert away from his words. “Um, uh… Food! Do you like the food here? I come here for food every now and then. Food here tastes good to me. Does the food taste good to you?” He said franticly, he wasn’t sure how many times he said the word food. He once again feels like an idiot.

OoCSorry this post i made is rubbish