Closed [The Rearing Stallion] Eve exalts and condemns

[Tatiam]

36th day of winter, 512 AV

"Damn this life and the next!" suddenly shouted Tatiam with a deep exasperation, as she violently threw the brush she held to the ground, splatters of paint sent about in bizarre patterns. Her left hand went to rub her cheek, smudging the blue liquid rather than removing it in the process.

Her voice muttered faintly "Come on, Lhex, give me a break..." as she contemplated her painting, as if looking into a mirror. With a sigh, the young woman realized that she was most likely expecting too much out of her exercise. Falling into a sitting position in the middle of her room, exhaling the frustration, the tan-skinned girl let a much sadder, desperate emotion invade her. The foreigner never knew what to do with what she was given. She thought there was something to work with, but perhaps she hadn't learned to use the tools properly, perhaps she wasn't the right person for this task, mischosen, imagining all of it, or simply mad?

There's got to be a meaning behind all of this... she thought, but why can't I remember? Her finger traced in the small blue pool of paint, the symbols as she remembered them, the scenery of her dream immensely simplified into childish marks on the stone. "I'm incapable and helpless, Krysus take me," swore Tatiam without conviction.

Mechanically, she stood up and cleaned herself by a large pot of water, leaving her apartment in that state when she headed straight to the taverns, ignoring everything on her way. What she needed was simple, and clear, effervescent, bitter even. Tatiam's stomach complained for attention, but she gave it none, ordering a strong ale as soon as her bottom found a stool that wasn't swaying too much, by the bar.

[Crypt]

OOCCould you change the tag to 'Closed', and add the location in the Title of the thread like so: [The Rearing Stallion] Crypt nodded to the tavern owner as he entered the Rearing Stallion, taking a seat by the bar. It had been a long day, and he was in no mood to continue his storytelling. “Just a mug of your dark beer, Kevith. No, I'm not doing any more of that tonight,” Crypt motioned to the raised dais where a lute-player was currently performing, “How much is it? Here, have six silver mizas. Keep it coming.” Crypt's eyes moved over the crowd noting that the usual crowd was there - some Syliran Knights off-duty enjoying a well-deserved mug of ale, a few men with their families enjoying dinner, a group of farmers toasting each other, a stunning and mysterious young woman - yes, indeed. Crypt turned to Tatiam as he waited for his beer. “Now, what's got that pretty face of yours all messed up?”

[Tatiam]

The tanned woman's eyes were lost in the depth of her mug, its rich brown ripples echoing the level of activity by the bar. She was still irritated, drowning the beverage in large gulps and awaiting its magical effect by the time that she was almost reaching its last drop. She noticed the new patron by the sound of his voice and the hint of movement in the corner of her eyes, but she did not react to it. Just another customer, someone looking for entertainment or solace, surely. But her attention had already been stolen, if only slightly, and she glanced back at the dais discreetly in her turn.

Tatiam ordered another beer with a quick gesture of the hand, leaving more silvers than necessary on the counter, for the mugs that would undoubtedly follow. Turning to finally acknowledge the man sitting by her side, the woman's lips curved slightly at his remark. She had to wonder if it was him, or simply the beer changing her mood so.

"Oh, that?" motioned Tatiam, a finger pointing towards her face. "Don't get scared here, but it's natural," joked the girl, the smile more evident by then.

"Well, I believe you're a musician," explained the mixed-blood with a hint of seriousness, "so I'm pretty sure you can understand the disappointments of an artist. Not that I have any talent to begin with." Despite the fact that she partly believed the last part, Tatiam's tone was light, careless.

[Crypt]

"Ah, that's better. Always nice to see a smile on a pretty girl's face." Crypt smiled faintly, before taking a sip of the beer that Kirvath had placed in front of him moments ago. Eyeing Tatiam over the rim of the mug with a critical eye, he placed it down after she explained her previous, unpleasant-looking facial expression. "You believe?" the statement was delivered in an amused tone, "I am hardly a musician, miss. I play the flute rarely, and most of the time I tell stories - tales that I have heard, fables that I have taken part in, sagas found in curious little grimoires. But even storytelling is an Art, and I understand your disappointment. Sometimes the audience throws pungent-smelling vegetables and fruits of all kinds - that happened to me once. But where are my manners? My name is Crypt, and I have been living in Syliras for over a season now." Draining the rest of the beer, Crypt raised a hand and gestured to the tavern proprietor, who nodded by way of a reply, taking the mug and filling it once again. "Are you new to Syliras, or perhaps a long-time resident that I haven't had the good fortune to meet?"

[Tatiam]

Tatiam noticed the slightness of the man's reaction towards her joke. This one needs more beer, she convinced herself, mentally tossing aside her feeling of curiosity. Almost in agreement to that thought, her hand reached for the mug, indulging in her thirst. Thanks to her weak tipsiness, the young woman had no time to react to Crypt's amusement. She was unsure if he was mocking her at that moment, before he divulged his own area of artistry.

With a raised eyebrow, Tatiam listened intently as she drank her ale, unable to contain an honest laugh at the mention of spoiled food being thrown at the misunderstood artist. She nodded as she learned his name, the pale-eyed outsider presenting a simple smile between gulps of beer.

"I've been here for almost as long as you have," she answered. "I'm Tatiam." After downing the last of the beverage in her mug, she turned to Crypt without signaling for another beer. "I didn't take a habit of visiting taverns in Syliras, and I must say I've never seen your performances either. Maybe I should try to change that." She felt a familiar warmth slowly run through her as faint hues brightened her cheeks and a small but ever present curve stayed at the corner of her lips. "Don't be offended, but tell me, how does that work exactly, do people usually go through the trouble of bringing rotten greens in case they don't like the show?" The idea sounded terribly silly, and it amused her probably more than it should. Hopefully, Crypt could take the matter lightly, as everyone needed to laugh once in a while, if only to take life a little less seriously.

[Crypt]

" 'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Tatiam. On most nights I... perform - and perhaps even on afternoons when sailors come in from the Docks, and there's a chance of getting some coin, or even scraps of information." Crypt's smile widened as she asked the inevitable question. He chuckled as he reminisced. "It was a few years back, when I was in Alvadas. There are a great many places there that defy all logic, and unfortunately I stumbled into one of them. After being forced - unwillingly, I must say - onto the stage and threatened at swordpoint, I had to start telling a story. It started well enough; my audience was quiet and well-behaved. Until I noticed someone surreptitiously passing a basket of assorted vegetables and fruit around the audience, with every person taking a handful. I tried to slip away after the first act, but they had already started the onslaught. Needless to say, I escaped successfully, but with my dignity most definitely not intact. The residue of the putrified matter evaporated once I stepped into the sunlight, but sadly, the stench did not. Ah, that was a horrible day, and I spent the remainder of the day trying to wash it off." Pausing to gulp down some beer, savouring the warm feeling it gave him, Crypt then continued. "Thankfully, that was the only time I encountered such a horrendous event."

[Tatiam]

"A pleasure to meet you too," agreed the young woman with a nod. Tatiam's smile responded to his, watching Crypt's slightly tanned features with curiosity as he talked, and chuckling when he was half-way through his story.

"Well, by the time that you grab a handful, you're definitely going to want to throw it away if it smelled so. I wonder, though, if it was really a matter of appreciating your art, or if it was just an excuse to let off steam," she replied half-thoughtfully, still amused. "There's always so much frustration among the common folk!" Tatiam laughed lightly.

Her amber eyes strayed from his shape, meeting with the one-armed man behind the counter who nodded before they returned, her attention renewed. "I guess a storyteller would know how to recite a story, how to keep its audience's interest by saying things in a certain way or order, well... I don't know the art of narration, but what about the stories themselves? I mean, are you some kind of writer as well?"

One of her ringed hands reached for the mug that Kevith had just placed in front of her, sipping the cold beer while she kept her head turned towards Crypt.

[Crypt]

“True... True... I'd like to think that they were relaxing after a hard day's work, but sadly I chanced upon one of them a few days later shooting the breeze with another. He did that for the entire day.” Crypt shook his head, miming disappointment. “Frustration? My dear Tatiam, these common folk are among my best customers - they spend most of the day working hard in the fields or selling their goods in small stalls. After a long day of work, they come to taverns and inns - where I usually ply my trade - for some entertainment to brighten up their lives, let them relax, if only for a few bells before they have to retire to bed. They may not be rich, but they do give generously.” Draining the last of his beer, Crypt raised his mug, allowing one of the barmaids to take it and refill it. “The stories? Most of them I heard from other bards, and the others I took part in them myself. I've only created one, and it's a light-hearted one; more suitable for children, judging from the response I got back home when I told it for the first time.” Crypt shifted his body, eyes alighting on Tatiam, paying more attention to her now. “But enough of me! 'Tis time for you to take the stage now. Tell me, Tatiam, why did you choose to become an artist?”

[Tatiam]

Tatiam's smile fainted softly. She did not mean to oppose or speak ill of commoners in general, the young woman trying in vain to find a way to explain herself at that moment. Harmless jest, she carelessly thought to herself a bit too late; It was almost a hobby of hers to make fun of sensible subjects. A glint flickered in the woman's eyes when Crypt mentioned his stories. A storyteller would benefit from travelling, and meeting other artists, and living the tale. The idea was almost enchanting, Tatiam thought, downing her ale before she showed a smile rather too radiant for that mere thought. The rest of the tavern was nonexistent to her by then; Anything that did not enter her personal space was a distant and blurry reality that she could not care less about. Not at that time anyway.

"Me?!" she chuckled, surprised by the storyteller's sudden interest. She finished her beer slowly, her features ever smiling before she answered. "I've always loved the arts, all of them really. I was lucky enough to grow up surrounded by them, my father was a musician, my mother would tell me stories of her past travels, so I guess it was very inspiring for me as a child." Tatiam pushed her empty mug aside, fingers playing and turning one of the rings on her opposite hand as she recalled old memories. Her expression was deeper, and she glanced up at the man's dark eyes once in a while as she spoke.

"I considered myself an explorer back then. I wanted to see the world, I wanted to create and invent. And I had a wild imagination," she chuckled softly. "People started to think I was ill or a bit crazy... well, I probably am,... But as a kid, I often daydreamed, I wouldn't listen, I wasn't disciplined..." In her nostalgic amusement, Tati's voice betrayed a subtle loneliness. She hushed the memories that followed, not willing to remember more. "But I'm rambling, forgive me. I chose to become an artist because I love a blank canvas. I can paint anything there, I am actually allowed to be a little crazy and let whatever ideas or feelings of mine pour onto it, become an abstract message, a curious interpretation..."

Tatiam's inebriated state made her talk foolishly, her thoughts drifting. She was about to add to her answer, but she decided otherwise, looking back at the man in silence.

[Crypt]

"Interesting... Crazy? A little ill? I've been both, and I can tell you that you won't look as pretty as you are now - being insane takes a lot of hard work, and you won't have as much time to do anything else. I was much more well-behaved than you, it seems. I adored my father, and would do anything he told me to..." Crypt fell silent for a few seconds as he recalled bittersweet memories of his father, drowning in nostalgia and a little bit of sadness. Nodding to the barmaid as she returned to him a full mug of beer, he downed about a quarter of it before continuing to converse with Tatiam. "Sometimes we don't have the luxury of choice," Crypt chuckled as he played with a copper miza in his hands, then spoke again, "I became what I am today because of a freak accident, and because Endrykas' healers couldn't help me much. But I see where you're coming from - I'm not a painter myself, but it's almost the same with storytelling. What kind of works do you usually... create?"