Closed [The Rearing Stallion] Fire and Lightning - Part 2 (Cyrus)

[Azcadelia]

Azcadelia Rosan
35th of Spring
Year 513
20th Bell

Cyrus had managed to awaken something in Azcadelia that had laid in slumber for a long time. This something was the girly and flirtatious nature of a teen girl. Azcadelia had Cyrus by the hand skipping through the streets, giggling loudly and flashing a smile at the man at every available second. However, as she and Cyrus delved deeper past the main gates into the city she turned it down, not only being warned by the guards but also because it was a man that she had only known for a few hours. Nothing to be overly excited about. Azcadelia recomposed herself only flashing smiles and cracking jokes about the passing citizens.

"There it is, the Stallion," she said, motioning with her free hand towards the building that a drunken sot was nearly falling out of. She tightened her grip on Cyrus' hand and lead him to and through the door. Inside they were greeted with the usually crowd: farmers, tanners and an assortment of workers just now leaving their jobs. Now they sat, in huddled tables, under shady candlelight, talking about their bosses and wives.

Azcadelia scanned for a free table and found on off the right hand side of the stallion, overshadowed by the stage. On that stage was a small gathering of men playing flutes, fiddles and bass. She motioned to the table with her free hand hoping he took the hint to do what a gentlemen would do; chivalry and all wasn't dead quite yet she hoped.

[Cyrus Blackfire]

Cyrus was grinning slightly as Azcadelia led him by the hand to the Rearing Stallion, an establishment he was quite familiar with. There were many nights when he went to the tavern to observe all those who came and went, assessing their potential worth. It was also where he had met Kouri, his ethereal follower. Idly he wondered where the ghost child was at the moment, then shrugged it off as his companion led him inside.

A quick scan over the room showed many familiar faces, and a few that were new. Tonight he was not here for observations, tonight would be a night for something else. A drink, and perhaps more, with a very lovely red haired lady.

She led him to a table near the stage and gestured to the table, the warrior decided that the chivalrous approach would probably be best here. He was trying to become a knight at the moment, after all. Cyrus pulled out a chair for her to sit in, gesturing to it in a vaguely overly dramatic fashion, with a slight bow of his head and everything.

"Milady," he said, a wry smile on his face.

Most people who knew of his ambition would have expected him to be a humorless and passionless man, however nothing could possibly be further from the truth. Cyrus may desire a much more ordered and powerful society but he possessed a quiet sense of humor and a great passion for the finer things in life. Those things included art, music, and of course women.

[Azcadelia]

Azcadelia Rosan

Azcadelia smiled at Cyrus once more before taking the seat that was destined for her. Cyrus' charm was scoring him points indeed as she warmed up to the man with every passing second. Taking her seat she said, "Aren't you just so gentle," with a small chuckle. Scooting into the table on the rickety seat and even more rickety table which she placed her elbows upon then, rested her chin in her hands.

Azcadelia watched the candle, that was lit in the middle of table, dance back and forth. It swayed against the loud cackling of the drunken patrons and with the smooth sounds of the band that played. Azcadelia, herself, started to tap her foot the music as Cyrus took seat in front of her. The candle flickered, dancing with the shadows that outlined the aspects of her pale face, rosy red lips and the loose strands of hair. Her hair had fallen out of the loose ponytail she put it in during the sparring. With all the flipping and bounding she was doing she couldn't count on the ponytail to hold up.

Now, in the light of the candle, the loose strands, combined with rest of her hair, laid down her back in a unkempt mess. Azcadelia didn't care to fix it at the time, if Cyrus could put up with her at her worse then he would deserve her best. "I've never seen you around here," she said, breaking the silence that had overcome their table. "If you are new, what brings you to Syliras, the great fortress city?" The last bit coming out sarcastically so.

[Cyrus Blackfire]

Cyrus had been silently observing Azzy carefully, his dark eyes taking in her every feature. In the flickering candlelight she seemed far more beautiful than ever before, breathtakingly so. Her hair was unkempt certainly, but that was to be expected considering the fighting that had transpired earlier and he fancied that it made her look more battle hardened in someway. Her every feature screamed desirable to him, not just her physical ones either, but her particular brand of skills.

He pondered how best to answer he question, noting the sarcasm she used in regards to Syliras. If she thought this place was difficult to live in then she should try living in Ravok for the better part of twenty two years.

Cyrus leaned forward slightly, searching for the right words for the question.

"I came to Syliras from Ravok, the domain of Rhysol, if you have ever been there you would know how good you have it here. I am here to eventually join the Syliran Knights, as I respect their... outlook, especially when compared to that of the Black Sun." The warrior said at length, his eyes narrowing slightly at the mention of Rhysol and the Black Sun.

The Lord of Chaos was perhaps the one thing in the world that Cyrus could say he hated with every fiber of his being. His methods were wasteful and often pointlessly cruel, and his organization thrived on spreading evil and chaos throughout the land. Often times their lack of purpose and direction would be enough to make him sick, but this was not the time or place to discuss such things.

The warrior gave her a charming smile, "What of you, do you hail from Syliras?" He asked, as Ravok was a subject that would likely lead to unpleasant words and emotions.

[Azcadelia]

Azcadelia Rosan

Azcadelia began to comb through her hair with her hands, retrieving a golden comb from a small pocket in her robes to comb it more effectively. As she listened to Cyrus explain his reasoning for being in Syliras she began to envision Ravok and it's government. The magus had heard very little about Ravok, the only information she received was gossip from taverns and the Coin.

"What of you, do you hail from Syliras," Cyrus asked, smiling with charm.

"Aye, I do," she answered, eying a barmaid that was making rounds. The barmaid locked eyes with Azcadelia and came weaving through the tables at her. "I was born in the region. My father said I was the splitting image of my mother just with a more... fiery, personality." Azcadelia smirked at her joke. "I travel in and out of the city from time to time travelling to different regions, but never have I been to Ravok. I usually steer clear of people with more devious intentions than myself," she said, smiling again as the barmaid arrived at their table.

"How may I help you tonight?" she said, hand stacked with mugs and dishes.

"Two glasses of wine please, your freshes and your oldest please, for my partner here, I do not know what he wants," she said, pointing to Cyrus across the table. Azcadelia continued to tend to her hair, taming it further with each stroke of the comb. The comb was an heirloom, it was her mother's.

[Cyrus Blackfire]

Cyrus smiled to the barmaid, "I will have the same thing." He said, handing the woman the needed money and sending her off to carry out the order.

Money was something the warrior was not exactly worried over much about, he had plenty of it left from his journey from Ravok. He could afford to be generous at the moment, especially considering what he stood to gain from his generosity. He glanced to his companion at noticed the rather expensive looking comb she was using to smooth out her hair, he suspected there was a story behind it though he thought better of asking. One never knew when a subject would bring up unpleasant topics, such as Ravok with him.

Still perhaps a brief explanation of the city was in order, almost everyone in Syliras he had met had never actually been to the floating city. Most of what they knew was based around rumors and hearsay, most of which was either greatly over or under exaggerated. It wasn't hard for him to find a good amount of descriptive words to paint a clear vista of Ravok.

"When you think of Ravok, envision a city of breathtaking beauty floating upon a placid and serene looking lake. Canals take the place of streets and every building is made to fit into an artful masterpiece. Truly a thing of beauty to behold." He said, chuckling bitterly at the end.

He looked to the side, "It is all of it a pretty façade, a masquerade of evil that is far more sinister than anything you know. Rhysol, Father to the citizens of the city, master of lies, reigns supreme in the city so carefully crafted to be the greatest irony the world has ever seen. His followers, the Black Sun and the Ebonstryfe are devoted to spreading his chaotic desires throughout the city and beyond." Cyrus could see it all so clearly now, as if he had only left yesterday.

"Questioning the God of Evil or is followers will net you a trip to the Black Hole, a place that takes people in, but never lets them out. Slavery is an open practice, people can be bought as freely as one might by a vase in the market. Does that fit the descriptions you have heard, my dear?" Cyrus looked back to his companion, his smile a bitter thing.

The man quickly realized where he had taken the conversation, and shook his head slightly to cast off the unpleasant memories. He made his expression more genuine and his eyes more friendly.

"Sorry to place such a damper on the mood, Ravok is an unpleasant memory perhaps we should move on to a more pleasant topic." He said.

He mentally berated himself for bringing up the city of horror to begin with, the past was in the past. Hopefully that little tangent wouldn't set him back too much.

[Azcadelia]

Azcadelia Rosan

Azcadelia listened intently as the barmaid took off to fetch their orders. Ravok sounded like a beautiful city but the intentions were dark, as Cyrus had said. She set the comb on the table and ran a hand through her hair, now smooth and decent looking. "Those hold true to the rumours that I had heard," she said, returning her comb to her robe's pocket. "It sounds like a terrible place to live for the less fortunate."

Azcadelia frowned as Cyrus apologized for his damper on the mood. "Oh, don't bother apologizing, the night is still young there are plenty more ways this conversation could go up or down," she said, smiling with her lips in the end. "However, if you insist on a change in subject, tell me about your surname. I've never of a combination like yours, Blackfire," she said, testing it out on her tongue.

The barmaid came whizzing around to their table again setting the drinks down to their respective owners. She had began her trek back to the bar when a man, fat bellied, wide eyed and with a pea sized head smacked her on her bum in a drunken attempt to flirt. Azcadelia scoffed and cut her eyes to the man before flickering them back to Cyrus.

[Cyrus Blackfire]

Cyrus was grateful for the change of subject, as well Azzy's lack of irritation at his tangent. She was right the night was still young, still plenty of time to assess what this woman was all about. The man nodded his thanks to the barmaid as she set down his drink, contemplated the question laid before him for a moment before shrugging slightly.

"Blackfire comes from my mother's side of the family, I can only guess that they enjoyed turning their fire black since they were mostly wizards. It is also the name my father took, while he was a slaver everyone knew who the master of the relationship was. Great woman, dear old mom." Cyrus said, lifting his glass to his lips for a taste of the wine.

It was a little too sweet initially for his tastes, however it left a tangy aftertaste that was quite pleasant. All in all it was not a bad beverage, he might have to inquire as the label that he might find more should he wish it. The warrior spun his glass idly, flashing Azzy with another smile.

"What of you Miss Azcadelia Jade Rosen, from where is your name derived from?" Cyrus inquired.

It was best to start off simple during any interaction, build things up as the conversation went along. Cyrus already knew that she clearly had a passion for reimancy thought who taught her was a mystery, whoever they were they were clearly a good teacher. His mother had been a good teacher as well, a harsh taskmaster at times who expected perfection but a good teacher and very, very powerful wizard. It was more of her wide array of knowledge regarding magic than focus on any one particular field, in fact Cyrus would safely bet that his mother knew every single discipline of personal magic there was. The only ones she had taught to him had been reimancy and hypnotism, more the former than the latter.

The warrior locked eyes with his companion for the evening, awaiting her response.

[Azcadelia]

Azcadelia Rosan

"Rosan," Azcadelia said, correcting him with a sly smile before taking a sip of the wine, light and airy. The taste was tart like, not too sweet but just enough to satisfy her palette. "My name comes from my mother. I was originally born with my father's surname but after the death of my mother - due to my father's career choices - I chose to use her surname to honour her death," she said, turning her eyes down to her wine glass, swirling her hand around the rim of it. The subject was a somber one, not usually shared with people. But, somehow, she felt a comfortable with the man. Just something about him, the air of his nature. It was a mystery but then again, so was she.

Azcadelia cleared her throat and brought her eyes back to Cyrus; the candle reflected in them giving the jade green an orangish outline. "What of your Reimancy, who was your teacher? Because, you're very talented," she said, taking another sip of her light red wine.

[Cyrus Blackfire]

Cyrus sipped his wine ponderingly, searching for any further flaws in the beverage. Unable to find any immediate ones he thought over his companion, Azzy. She was certainly different than many of the women he had met in his time, straight forward, to the point, and very capable. The warrior was always looking for potential allies to assist in bringing his overall vision to fruition, he already counted the ghost girl, Kouri among his first lieutenants. As potent as her potential was she was only one follower, he needed more allies and this woman could easily be one of them. It was too early to say now, he would have to test the waters a bit before anything was certain.

"My mother is the one who taught me reimancy as well as the little bit of hypnotism I know. She probably has at least some skill in every known personal magic discipline, it wouldn't surprise me. Ah, but she could be quite the task master, never missing an opportunity to rap my knuckles when I did something that displeased her." He gave her an amused smile.

"My talents are due to her teachings, as harsh as they might have been they got me here." He mused, lounging in his chair.

Cyrus didn't dislike his mother, quite the contrary he respected her a great deal. As harsh as she was at times, she was quite tender others and she had supported and fostered his ambitions. She was a flawed woman but everyone had their flaws.

"Who taught you, Azzy? Clearly they were quite skilled to produce such a powerful protégé." The man inquired, swirling the wine in his glass idly.