Crossed Signals (Fois)

[Eoin]

oocLet me know if date doesn’t work for you. I just chose a random date.

57th of Summer, 511 AV He winced, pulling his lips taut and knitted his eyebrows for a moment, releasing when the blood began to flow. Cuts like these occurred often, but typically not for Eoin, a chef known to his peers as accurate and detailed. Usually when they did emerge, it was far deeper than merely breaching the skin, and at times required minor stitching. The wound wasn’t too bad, for it was caused by attempting to cut mangoes for a green mango salad and slipping, but it did bleed rather heavily. It was a strange request, but there were always Inartans that were adventurous with their meals, even if this one was very particular about how it was to be prepared, adding to the time spent this dish. He held a slight grimace from the sharp pain, but softened as the sensation grew on him, ignoring the rest of the throbbing to complete his task. After a light rinse and careful finger placement, Eoin finished with the mangoes and the meal, and brought it out to the finicky eater. Then again, it was easy to be picky when there are so many choices on an Endal’s menu. For the moment, the blood was beginning to clot and was only shedding a sparing amount of blood. Nonetheless, Eoin decided to drop by the infirmary for a small bandage, lest the cut reopen later and ruin a good meal, thus incurring the Chef's disapproval. Considering the time of night, there wouldn’t be many Inartans in the kitchens, so he could afford to take a short leave. Despite Leth’s light, even the courtyard was surprisingly dark, littered with empty shadows in every corner. That is, all but one. A lone Dek was crouching under the veil of darkness, peering from behind the corner at the bright haired Avora walking this way. He licked his lips, partially from fear, partially from anxiety, his tongue dragging over sandpaper. The man was looking forward, rather than around, missing the hidden man’s presence. He was the perfect target, an unsuspecting Avora male entering the hallway just behind him, alone and lacking a hunter’s physique. The drudge convinced himself to be confident in his own speed, believing that he could not be outrun. Just when Eoin was about to pass by his occupied nook, the young man lunged out and with some luck, managed to snatch the dangling pouch of pinions before darting down the hall. Frozen in shock, it took a few seconds to for the man to realize what had transpired, his hands flying to his side to find that in fact, he had just been robbed. Irritated, but calm of mind, he then began his chase. He was not particularly athletic, but working on his feet all day added some strength and much endurance to his legs, and so long as he could keep the thief in sight, he would be able to run for quite a while. Eoin fixed his gaze upon the Dek’s appearance, but there was no differentiating Inartans especially in this light. The male had the typical long, red hair but his clothes were sheathed in shadows, his caste unidentifiable, though often, only a drudge of few years would commit crimes. Despite the straight path before him, the young criminal was running in a strange zig zag, perhaps the result of intoxication or simply out of pure adrenaline and fear. Either way, it helped the Avora catch up, and soon the two were only separated by a metre. Suddenly, the man vanished, turning abruptly at the corner. Eoin followed, his arm outstretched, fingers reaching for the thief’s shoulder. Grabbing hold with a strong grip, the man then pulled the drudge around and demanded with exasperation. “Return my pinions.”

[Fois]

The night wind was lovingly caressing his face and then in a sweet betrayal playing with and messing up his hair. His eyes were closed and even despite the relaxed state he was in, ears were alert and allowed him to enjoy the sound of Seleer’s wings beating against the air. Without even thinking his hands clutched the reins harder when he felt that the Wind Eagle began descending. The Endal’s leg muscles tensed as if he would fall off the saddle otherwise and his eyes opened to see that they were already close to their home. Seleer guided his way masterfully to the cliff and as the bird’s talons touched the rock Fois felt the relatively gentle impact and managed to remain safely in his seat unchallenged. The hunt was long, but fortunately turned out to be a successful one. The Endal felt a bit tired, yet not at all sleepy, so once he freed the Wind Eagle from the saddle and put his own equipment away, Fois abandoned the aerie choosing to have a walk instead. His pace was very slow, feet taking their precious time to cover a distance that could have been quickly completed in a few strides. A clear destination for his wandering only entered his mind when he had climbed down the stairs that lead from the aeries and passed the Infirmary. Instead of tiring his legs for much longer, he would visit the Courtyard of Sky, find a nice place there and spend some time watching the vast darkness above until he would feel that his mind was inviting him to rest. Fois followed the coiling tunnels, watching the flickering shadows that were occasionally dispersed by the light of torches dance on the walls. A smell of fresh air that he had usually been enjoying on his hunts finally reached out through the warrens and signaled that the Endal’s stroll was getting close to the desired finish. A relaxed smile found itself on his lips and he was about turn around the corner when a person jumped out from there, running fast by Fois. The only reason why the two men avoided collision was because the rider was quick enough to react and move aside as it appeared that the other Inartan didn’t care much about the obstacles in his way, probably because of being in such hurry. The foul smell of the man almost instantly dispelled the pleasant senses of fresh air. Fois only had a small moment to take note of the man who quickly disappeared around another corner nearby, but a brief glance at the dirty face and hair coupled with the torn clothing allowed him to easily identify where the man belonged. His good mood was wiped away as he felt insulted and infuriated by the Dek’s behavior. Fois was about to yell at the drudge demanding him to come back when he sensed a hand on his shoulder grabbing and forcefully turning him around. He looked with a surprise at the short-haired man shouting at him before his eyes changed their expression into one that reflected an inner state beyond annoyance. Fois twisted his shoulder while pushing away the man’s grip with the same arm, and at the same time the palm of his other hand hit the assailant hard to the chest. ”Hands of me,” he growled. ”What is this?” The rider didn’t quite catch what the man had told him upon assault and had no idea what was going on, but was fiercely determined to find out.

[Eoin]

Unprepared for the sudden shove, Eoin took two heavy steps backwards to steady himself, refilling his lungs with lost air. As he took a look at the thief, his hardened eyes gradually tinted with confusion. This face, he had seen it somewhere before. At the very least, it was strikingly similar to a person in his past. Despite his expansive memory, it was difficult to place the identity of this man at the current moment, the warmth of the other’s hand still present on his chest. The stranger’s aggressive tone encouraged a slow simmer of irritation, an equally familiar sensation. Eoin took a brief moment to retrace the man’s features, but inspired not a thought on his name, and retreated on that pursuit for now. Instead, he decided to return to the matter at hand. “Return my pinions.” He repeated, less exasperated but otherwise, an exact replication of his previous statement. In the current light, he could only clearly see the man’s head, his clothes cloaked in shadow. Eoin had not completely adjusted to the night quite yet, for even his body seemed to stubbornly cling to the norm. Still, he was beginning to doubt that this was the thief he was chasing, for it seemed strange for a criminal to feign ignorance. However, considering the distance that separated the two during the chase, perhaps this was merely an attempt to escape after having been caught. The hair was the same, from what he could tell, but the style was hardly uncommon. On the other hand, should the thief be elsewhere, the time they were spending here would be detrimental to his goal. Rarely was the Avora rushed for time, but this was one of those moments where speed was required of him. “Who are you?” Should this be the man he was after, perhaps he will falter upon giving up his name, or in thinking of one. After all, most Inartans knew each other by face if not by name, and even Eoin was not an exception in this case. If anything, he would be more knowledgeable in the lower castes’ identities than most others, as he rarely turns a blind eye to a drudge or Yasi. Likewise, this question served another purpose should this be an innocent man, for the name would revive Eoin’s memory of him, a question that simply begged for an answer.

[Fois]

This time Fois understood the words he was told quite clearly, even though the reason why they were directed at him still escaped the Endal. He was absolutely certain that he had never borrowed a single pinion in his life, at least ever since he had bonded with Seleer. ”I owe you nothing,” believing that the debt collector was simply misguided did nothing to soothe the irritation in the rider’s voice. He didn’t like the man’s tone and the way he treated him as some random slimy bastard. It was as if Fois had been recently demoted from an Endal to a pathetic drudge. As if he was some despicable criminal… His blue eyes flared a little as a new thought made its way into his mind. ”Are you calling me a thief, you Dek-haired idiot?” The man’s face looked familiar to the Endal. He was sure that he had seen this fool around the kitchens, somewhere on the serving side, if his memory served him right. It not always did, though. The rider’s gaze quickly flew downwards and back to the man’s eyes in a brief examination of his status. Clearly he was no Dek – for one, he looked like a person. Probably a Chiet, or maybe even an Avora by some surprising chance. The latter usually had a mind sharp enough not to act this stupid, however. Nevertheless, this man had no excuse. ”Who am I?” the interrogation just further angered Fois. This safe-haven dweller dared to question him like that? The assumptions this man made about the rights he had were outrageous. The Endal could not see how his mind could be calmed at the moment, and here he had just been hoping to spend a relaxing evening… ”Who the petch are you, stone brain? Better tell me now and say it faster than I can draw my knife.” Drawing was probably the only thing that Fois could do quickly and reliably with a dagger, but he had no intentions of doing that at the moment anyway. All he wanted was to show the man his place and how greatly he had misunderstood the situation.

[Eoin]

If this was the thief he was after, he was certainly doing a spectacular job at pretending he was not. Eoin wavered in his accusation, but already he had begun to question the identity of this man, growing less certain the stronger the other’s voice became. If anything, his tone resembled an Endal’s own, proud and brimming with authority. He tensed with the possibility in mind, but his expression showed not a slip in judgement, remaining neutral as it were. Calmly, he addressed the man’s anger, not one to feel its effect despite the slight sting of familiar irritation. “If you are the same one that stole from me, then yes.” Little by little, the light of the moon began to shift, and already the other’s lower half was reflecting its silver light. Easily, the Avora came to regret his actions, rash and unthinking never did lead him to a solution, only trouble. By now, he was able to tell that this stranger was not of Dek caste, but much higher, perhaps Avora or Endal. The way the fabric hung from his hips was much too graceful and elegant, only higher quality cloth could manage the appearance. What was he to do now with this information but to apologize? And that he did, with a heavy tone of respect. “You are not the thief, I see that now. I apologize for my mistake.” His chin dipped gently, as if to give a slight bow to make clear his regret. However, that was not enough to quell the man’s rage, and instead he was asked for his own identity. Fear ebbed within him, solidifying to merciless ice when the threat of physical harm was mentioned. Without skipping a beat, he replied, knowing that to deny one of higher caste was to commit to one’s death. “Eoin, assistant chef of the kitchens. Avora.” He reported, his gaze a frank green. Though he could easily compose himself even in face of such danger, the man could not help but want to let a bit of irritation show, the reason lost to him. If only the stranger could step into the light, to let his features be shown and his identity known, then perhaps Eoin could finally understand why he felt the way he did. On his good days, he never did forget a face or name, but in this quick turn of events, he had managed to cast the very thought away, his mind scurrying to catch his mistakes.

[Fois]

The fact that the man realized his mistake and apologized for his blunder should have satisfied Fois. But it didn’t. Perhaps a heated and vulnerable to irritability mood was at fault or perhaps the wording of regret unintentionally irked him. When the man lowered his head slightly, the Endal raised his chin up a bit as if for some reason he needed to look down on him even physically. ”You see that now, huh?” the amount of anger in his voice was significantly reduced, but every single drop of it that departed was replaced with a bitter scoff. ”And before I looked like a dirty thief to your skewed eyes?” The only reaction to the man’s introduction was a small satisfaction with his little deduction being quite right. The name didn’t ring a bell, but then again a lot of them never did, and since Eoin was not an Endal, falconer or even a hunter, that was hardly surprising. Now with the apology received, however poor it was, Fois felt that he had no need to remain in the unpleasant situation any longer. Should the man have not been an Avora but someone of a lower caste, the rider might not have left the matter so quickly resolved and would have probably opted for a satisfying punishment. But the offender was an artisan, so Fois figured that a slap to his pride was enough of a price to pay. After all, the assistant chef had already lost his money. ”Well then, Eoin of the kitchens, move out of my way,” he said still sounding rather hostile, roughly pushing past the Avora. For the past few chimes some unspotted effort to connect the dots was going on in the back of the Endal’s mind. The thief, being caught by a victim, the misunderstanding, almost being bumped into by a Dek in a hurry… The rough picture was composed out of the separate elements and turned into a realization. It didn’t immediately bothered Fois and yet he stopped just few steps away from Eoin. The man was an artisan and proved his usefulness to the community and the pinions were given to him in exchange for his duty to reflect that. The drudge on the other hand was a parasite feeding of which was already a charitable luxury based on its contribution to Wind Reach. And now it turns out that the Dek got paid as an Avora, while the latter ended up empty handed… The rider let out a tired exhale that hid the hints of frustration before turning around. Eoin was just an Avora cook, what was he to do? Go bother Kaden about the matter or seek out another Endal for help? The crime needed resolution and Fois was there, he could not allow himself the comfort of being selective in what his duty to the community involved. ”The thief went that way,” he motioned with his hand to the nearby turn. ”Let’s go and see if we can find him.”

[Eoin]

With a tug, his gaze was raised to face fiery, blue eyes, confirming the fact that Eoin was in fact, in the presence of an Endal. He had no response for the other, choosing the wiser option to remain silent in order to avoid irritating the man further, despite the unplaced sense of indignation. There was nothing unjust in their interaction, for he had been in the wrong and had escaped with a slap on the hand. Even the physical contact had been brief and hardly rough, if anything the Avora should be grateful. Here was where his recollection hurt rather than helped, for the feelings associated with Fois clouded his judgements of the current situation, the man’s anger dredging up the worst of his memories. The conflicting sense of envy, responsibility and irritation teetered on the brink of disapproval, only to be roughly pushed in. Now, out of the Endal’s line of sight, the man allowed himself to furrow his eyebrows in frustration if for just one, relieving moment. Startled by Fois’s voice, the apprentice listened attentively to his directions before obediently following the other around the corner. If he remembered correctly, the pinions lost were few, only about 50, and though it was disappointing, Eoin was no longer troubled by the loss. What perturbed the Avora now was the fact that his one-time playmate was on the thief’s heels, fearing the rash actions of a male Yasi with the authority of an Endal. As they continued down on their path, the man took a sustained glance or two at his company. How he’d change, and how he seemed to remain the same. They were no longer separated by merely age and personality, but a greater chasm defined the two. Fois was one of the chosen, and he merely a skilled mortal. All those fantastical adventures as a child only served to cement the elevation of the Endal caste, ones once shared between two equals. Strange could not begin to describe this change of events, his mind in a tussle as it tried to sort out his future actions. His eyes retreated toward his destination upon realizing a thought; Fois had not recognized him. Or at the very least, he had not verbally admitted to the fact. Knowing that he had a somewhat negative impression of the other, the man feared what the Endal would do once his own thoughts of a younger Eoin returned. Surely he had not angered or upset the other, but there was no guarantee, especially not when such a tactless man was judge. His muscles tensed, caution diminishing the grace from his movements, his lips and mind quieting to near silence. Though it was night, there were still a few Inartans out of their rooms, their passing steps interrupted by polite inquiry, only to be interrupted again by the demands of the waiting company. Few noticed the runaway Dek, assuming the drudge was a messenger when he ran past, and only remembered the insignificant event through gentle probing or while facing the intimidating authority of a frustrated Endal. Having sacrificed time, the two made quick footwork toward a new direction: the Pit, the nearly deserted archery range of the drudges.

[Fois]

Warrens of Wind Reach weren’t the easiest streets of Mizahar to navigate, especially when chasing somebody. Many turns and forks presented a question of which way to go every time one came across them and the further one moved away from the familiar tunnels that had been passed through almost every day, the more similar a new walls and stones looked to the ones that one had just seen. And when your target was a Dek, the chase could become almost a one sided battle. The drudges knew the warrens well for they dwelled in them. Best places to sleep when it was possible, best places to hide from those looking to employ or abuse them, shortest routes to carry an important message from a strict Avora, longest ways to delay a miserable and unpleasant task – all of those constituted perhaps the largest part of the lowly creatures’ wisdom. Already being invisible for most of the time, disappearing was hardly a difficult task for them. In order not to lose the thief the two men had to resort to questioning the passer-by’s on their way. If Fois hadn’t had fully set his mind on catching the petty criminal, he would have been amused at Eoin’s approach to hunting for clues, information and directions, because probably only the fact that he looked his caste prevented from people simply ignoring him. The Endal on the other hand did not think it was a time to practice diplomacy and put up a performance of good manners. ”A Dek in a hurry. Which way he went?” he would growl in a varying state of irritation that depended on the random witness's attitude. Should their memory needed refreshing, ”doesn’t dress like one, but looks and smells all the same,” was all they would get from the rider, who often interrupted Eoin’s gentler methods so that they would save some time. Fois couldn’t remember ever visiting the Pit, the location they were directed to, but from what little he knew about the place it was a likely destination for the thief. No Chiet, Avora or Endal had any reason or wish to go there and the daring Yasi would only visit the place for their games and dares. Torches became rare and the ground less taken care of the closer they got the range, so the two Inarta would often have to slower their pace to safely advance forward. A dark figure was passing by them when Fois grabbed it and pushed hard against the wall. There was no question that it was a Dek, but the scarce light from far away revealed that it was not the one they were looking for. It appeared as if the creature had only one eye or rather that one of them could not open, perhaps because of injuries or maybe a shortcoming from birth. The rest of the face was a clear declaration of caste with warts and scars, every single one of which probably had a sad story. ”A Dek without Lontev came this way, right?” the Endal asked despite the unlikely chance that he would have taken ‘no’ for a reliable answer. ”Told me to get out,” the drudge nodded frantically. ”Now I have to find another place to sleep. I need to sleep, because I don’t want to fall asleep when I work. No, no, no, no, no. Sleeping instead of working is not good. I need to sleep when it is time to rest.” Fois had released the babbling thing early in his story, which didn’t end even after the rider and the chef had left the unfortunate, who was convinced he still had an audience that would listen. When they arrived at the Pit there was only one other person among all the garbage that passed for bows and targets in there. He was lying on a rock that almost looked as if it was carved to work as a table or a bed. The Dek immediately jumped to his feet upon seeing the intruders. It was difficult to see if this time it was the one they were after, but it just had to be. ”You think it’s your thief?” Fois inquired Eoin despite having seen just as much, if not more, of the Dek as the Avora. Before there was enough time for an answer, the drudge launched himself forward in desperation trying to get past the two men into the only warren that led in and out of the Pit. The rider reacted in jumping forward on the thief in an awkward tackle and despite the poor technique successfully bringing them both down to the ground. Finding himself in the dominant position on top, Fois treated the Dek to some fast punches just below his ribs before straightening up and flying a few powerful fists to the face that the drudge instinctively tried to protect. Despite the defenses, the impact still delivered the violent results even if not directly, as could be judged from bruises and blood that appeared on the Dek. Just a couple of hits were enough to make the Endal’s untrained knuckles sore, but it also sufficed to let out some of the accumulated frustration so that his mind could cool down. Confident that the slimy form of a man would not try to escape, Fois slowly stood up examining the criminal. ”Doesn’t seem to have your money on him,” he said after turning his eyes to Eoin. ”Feel free to find out where it is.”

[Stardust]

Eois

Skill	XP Earned
Cooking	2
Medicine	2
Rhetoric	2
Socialization	2

•	Lores Earned
•	Mistaken For A Dek
•	Fois: An Endal
•	In Search Of A Thief
•	Diffusing A Situation

Fois

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	2
Leadership	2
Rhetoric	2

•	Lores Earned
•	Making One's Endal Status Known
•	Eoin: Not A Dek
•	Confidence

Dream On

Wow, this is from a little while ago, isn't it? Glad to see ya return, Eoin! This was a fun thread to read, I only wish there was more. Gotta love misunderstandings! Can't wait to read some more recent stuff!

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out.