Flashback A Noticeable Vagrant

[Tatiam]

4th day of Winter, 511 AV The walls of Nyka were covered in fog as a single traveler approached the gates to enter the mysterious city. Monks guarded the entrance, tall, imposing, hardiness echoing from their stares. As with every outsider, they examined her from head to toe, deciding whether she was allowed the privilege to enter the city. Unable to withstand the heavy silence of the four guardians longer, the traveler spoke: "I arrived with the few others you let in earlier," she informed, "We were in the same caravan." With her height and build, the young woman had nothing of a threat; Her slender form hinted at an underfed life, and her frame evoked agility and quickness rather than strength. But she had left the group of travelers to appreciate the stunning view of the ocean and the city built completely of the same grey stones standing on the edge of the cliff. Maybe they thought she was a survivor who arrived here on her own? Whose features served to hide her true endurance? Tatiam forced her golden eyes up to meet with the monks' in turn, challenging a response. It was probably the honesty in her gaze that made them step aside. Tatiam made a few steps inside the city before she allowed herself a short sigh of relief. The foreigner removed her hood, potentially saving herself trouble, though unknowingly, before glancing at the paths before her. Clad of dark linens and leathers, she stood out from the crowd of citizens, with their light, colorful attires and their gait determined as they walked the streets with a purpose. The religious place was filled proudly with banners and murals, the signs as useful as they were decorative, though from an outlander's eye, its aestheticism was remarkable. The tan woman strolled without concern about how she was perceived, knowing fully that she was nothing less or more than a visitor among the Nykans. Her senses felt slightly tugged at while she made her way towards the Celestial square, the mysticism Tatiam had heard about was undoubtedly present, though its origin was another enigma... At least until she got close enough to the deep fissure splitting the city from side to side. An unfamiliar rhythm seemed to rhyme with her own heartbeat, a movement eluding her glances, a strange calling, leading her on the bridge of the beginning to stare down the Aperture's darkness. She was drawn to it, but her dark amber eyes did not have the look of a believer, nor its admiration. People knelt and prayed, monks patrolled and exchanged defying glares, but Tatiam was a simple witness. She knew at that moment that she would never belong there, either. Perhaps there was no place for her to belong to, and it felt oddly alright. The sun was slowly setting and people were beginning to scatter away. She crossed the bridge and stopped someone to ask about the location of a tavern, or an inn. It was part of the reason why she chose to visit the city; She wouldn't spend a night out with trained monks roaming the streets as such. If there was something she knew, was that power of status often came with a lack of morality, or the ability to be above the law. It was the primary reason why she wouldn't meddle with those persons' businesses. The Nykan brushed by her, so she intercepted the next one, a shorter, gentle-looking woman. "Excuse me, kind lady, could you tell me..." started Tatiam, politely, placing a hand on her forearm to get her attention. A monk nearby had spotted her vain attempts, halting her request by grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the citizen. Great... Just what I needed: a confrontation with a monk. "Sir, I..." she started faintly. Amber eyes risked meeting the monk's, but instantly resolved to stare down instead. Don't anger him, don't... do anything. That was a delicate situation, who knew what was considered disrespectful, or even rude. "You're disturbing the peace," the tall man said boldly, pushing Tatiam towards the side of a building, and against a wall. She didn't fight it. "I did not mean to, I was just asking for directions. Sir, could you tell me where is the near-" She stopped. There, in those eyes, was a need, a... hunger. He didn't care if she broke the law or disturbed the people. Tatiam knew that expression, one she knew to avoid for her own safety and survival. Most of the time, anyway. The young woman was in no position to fight back, not if any other monk cared to join, and not even considering her chances of simply escaping. So she played it soft, vulnerable, which she probably was... but hated to impersonate so. "I'm sorry," she pleaded, eyes squinting slightly with an expression of regret. "Please forgive me, brave monk, I will not bother any Nykan again." Tatiam's voice was laced with insistence and frailty as her free hand slowly reached to her belt where a dagger was sheathed. With luck, her words would please the monk, make him feel superior, and it would be enough to let the young woman go without having to resort to sharper ways.

[Irowyn]

The sun was beginning to set over Nyka. This meant that people were scurrying around to finish their business and get to the safety of their homes. There was no hint of panic or haste but there was this communal feeling that it was time to sort of "wrap it up." True as it was that there may not have been running in the streets, everyone's steps were a bit more hurried. Walking past people and obstacles involved a bit more of a "hop" then it normally did around this time of day.

For his part, Irowyn had been walking home from a leisurely walk to gaze downward and into the Aperture. He had been here for less than a season, now, but he knew how this worked. He quickly learned the ways of his fellow Nykans. Only once had Irowyn found himself in a verbal disagreement with a monk. Later he found himself beaten and bruised for that disagreement. It was not a mistake that he had repeated.

As night began to set, Irowyn started to feel a chill set in. True, as it was, that Nyka rarely delved into temperatures that were uncomfortably cold, Irowyn found himself without his coat tonight. He wore only brown flaxen pants and a simple shirt. There were two reasons, tonight, that his gait was hurried.

As he passed by, he noticed another newcomer to Nyka. He wanted to help her but he knew that chiming in would invoke the monk's sense of pride. By "coming to her aid" he knew that he would make the monk feel as though Irowyn was trying to play some sort of hero. He worried about the risk of ensuring that this woman would suffer the same "lesson" that he had received when he came to this town. Sadly, the best thing that he could do for her was to hope that she could manage well enough on her own. Besides, it was getting darker, the guards were growing restless, Irowyn didn't want to be on the street for that.

He set his sights on the Sharp Tongue for a few drinks. He'd decide, once there, whether he'd venture for home later or spend the night on one of the pub's benches. With one last glance at this woman who was trapped in the monk's gaze, Irowyn turned away and headed for his own destination.

[Tatiam]

Along with twilight, shadows stretched and expanded while the streets were quickly getting cleared of their citizens. The day's warmth was already fading with the Sun, brisk and fresh air running along the stone surfaces from the docks. Tatiam had to get out of there before things turned worse. Pinned against a wall, long seconds passed after she tried to satisfy the monk's whimsy temperament. Few people in the Northern street still hadn't reached their destination, and Tatiam's amber eyes glanced at them in turn, as if she would somehow find the answer on how to solve her predicament. Or a simple hint. For just an instant, a pair of eyes had seemed to set on the foreigner, and even though the man was already walking away swiftly, hers tried to follow him, find out where he was going before the silhouette turned a corner and disappeared. The young woman's neck only stretched ever so slightly, her attention stolen from the situation and annoying the monk further as he realized that she wasn't as scared and desperate as his ego needed her to be. This Tatiam understood as she caught a glimpse of his expression, again trying not to connect with his glare. Who knew if she could actually lie well enough for her eyes to play the part as well. Probably not. "There's only one way to forgive here, foreigner. You will learn your place," he growled lowly, while his forearm locked her slender neck against the stone and pressed upward. The tan woman's hand wrapped around the monk's arm, tugging at it for air, gasping while her other arm struggled to free itself. The monk had dull eyes, an emptiness that could absorb so much without a hint of emotion. Fright began to grow in the stranger's heart. "I-...'m... So- s-... so..." The tall man pushed up some more, lifting the woman's feet completely off the ground, strangling her. He freed Tatiam's wrist from his grasp, his hand travelling along her curves instead as hers joined its twin around the man's arm, fighting for the slightest breath. Can't continue like this... Gotta... "I can't hear you," he retorted, a wicked smile spreading on his pale features. "...S-so-...ry," tried Tatiam again, but it was just as much as she could withstand peacefully. And to think that she had wished her end before, today she chose her troublesome life over it. A curious drive, or instincts, perhaps. Gotta do something... Sighing internally at her own bad luck, the young woman's stare suddenly became daring, filled with purpose. Hands kept grasping strongly at the arm that held her body over the ground, while her knee hit the man's groin before one of her hands gripped her dagger and unsheathed it swiftly. Its edge sliced under and across the monk's extended arm in the process, which withdrew in reflex and brought Tatiam down to her feet. The shock echoed in her knees painfully, for she had no time to brace herself, but she pushed forward and ran. What the petch am I doing? I can't fight a guard...?! I... can't... The foreigner kept running and turned the same corner where she remembered the stranger to have vanished earlier. Dusk. Growing shadows. Could she possibly hide from this monk...? ...And... all of them...? It was obviously just a game for the skilled fighter, wiping the blood against his cloak while he followed her steps with much less hurry. As Tatiam cursed herself for being bold and stupid, she turned another corner, glancing at the deserted street before she resolved to sneak and hide there, looking at the signs for anything announcing a public place. Please be opened, please be opened, please be opened... As she pressed on, the monk stood a mere corner away and began running, forcing Tatiam to run forward as well, knowing that it was just a matter of time before he would catch up with her, or she would encounter another guard. Which she did. But for once, it was a pure stroke of luck that the monk was actually against the other. How could that be, Tatiam had no thought to waste on it, not then. The two engaged in fierce battle, which an approaching third watched, seemingly ignoring the shaken and frightened stranger as she finally spotted a pub further on the street and hurried inside. Once she stepped in, still breathless, Tatiam's eyes ran across the large hall and the balcony, paying no attention to the crowd of customers in her silenced panic. She climbed up the stairs, almost tripping half-way, then chose an inconspicuous seat in a corner. Would the monk still look for her? Hunt her? Her whole body trembled softly as she tried to calm down, considering possibilities and her next move, despite how troubled and blurred her mind was.