Fancy Seeing You (Shiress)

[Razkar]

"No. No, I don't want it. You keep it. You've earned it."

Razkar snorted his surprise and followed it with a cock of his head. He gestured to his chest with the blade, gleaming tip pointing out the kukri, gladius and hand ax as it went down. And that was just the weapons on his front.

"Think I need? I do not." He regarded the dagger carefully, and his practiced eyes were unimpressed. Rather formless... no history to it, no markings of victory nor alteration, just... a utensil, or a tool, more than the weapon of a warrior. He shrugged. "Old thing from my people. Ah... trar-dish-un? Beat enemy, keep weapon. You did not beat, yes, but he was enemy, so-"

"Come on. The knights will soon come and I for one don't need to be here when they do. Is that your horse? I can explain myself, but not here."

Her worried tone and anxious demeanor broke his examination. Nervous energy crackled from her and the smile she gave him... it was off. Disingenuous... but oddly enough, he wasn't upset. Most barbarians looked at him like that after they'd seen his skills. He was used to it.

And, after all, she was telling him to come on, not go away, so...

"Yes. Name is Mrrko. And..." He looked over her shoulder, down the way she had advised him mere chimes ago. "Might as well go to place with bow and such."

There was one final thing, however, and Razkar was holding it. He looked around for somewhere to put the dagger, the street already beginning to fill again, the show over, the attraction now minimized, and people have such short attention spans. The Myrian squinted an frowned until...

He smiled wickedlt and tossed it, but the blade did not tinkle or clunk. It plopped. Into something that was not mud and attracted far more flies than it ever did.

It was behind Mrrko. Perfect.

"I am sure he will find when he wakes up." Razkar said as he began to walk towards the archery store she pointed out, leading Mrrko by the reins as they walked swiftly away... not that it would matter, he thought with a grin. "And I think problem with knights will come anyway. Not many Myrians in city, hmm?"

OOCOh, woman, HUSH! Yer doing fine, you just have the more passive character... for the moment.

[Shiress]

Shiress arched a brow as the Myrian tossed away the dagger into a most disgusting hiding spot, perfect for such a disgusting man to have to dig it out later.

She gave the prone figure a lasting glance over her shoulder as she slowly began to follow behind Razkar. "No. I guess there's not many Myrians in the city" She said, bringing her eyes back around with a weak smile, letting her gaze linger. There was something about this Myrian that the girl felt uneasy about. Whether it be the fact that after just beating the snot out of some strange man to defend some strange woman he was still up for shopping or be it that he was just a half dressed Myrian, there was something about the man that she didn't trust, but where would she be had it not been for this half dressed, unconcerned Myrian.

Shiress' slow, worried steps brought her to the table where a vast variety of archery weaponry was set up and displayed. She wandered off to a neighboring stall while the Myrian completed his purchase. Green eyes scanned the enclosed area nervously before slender fingers ran across the beautiful hair clips, beaded brushes and jeweled combs that lined the table top. Each could aid in the beauty of a woman, but only if the thought of her own beauty was there to begin with.

Shiress sighed withdrawing her hand from the jeweled accessories, and started to turn when a hint of reflected movement caught her eye as her arm passed over the table. After a curious pause, she turned again and straightened herself, letting her fingertips glide gently across the smooth glass surface of a small hand mirror before trailing the engraved metal frame down to the narrow handle and hesitantly lifting it from the table top.

After spending seasons enslaved, Shiress' body was left riddled with scars, some small, some hideous, but every one stood as testimony of the harsh treatment she endured and a past she struggled to overcome. Seeing twisted and distorted reflections of herself in various metal and glass surfaces while working at the Stallion was one thing, but a clear image of the tapestry of abuse, to clearly see herself as others see her, was something she'd deliberately avoided since arriving in Syliras.

Shiress slowly tipped the mirror Forward and watched as auburn hair and soft ivory skin passed over its surface, an expression of one remembering a long wished forgotten memory washing across her face. She gazed at her reflection as slender fingers carefully trailed along thin, pale lines that were etched along her jaw line then curved down along her neck and disappeared beneath her collar, one of many whip marks that adorned her skin. She pulled gently at her blouse, swallowing hard as as the reflected edges of a thick scar came into her mirrored view, a scar that carved a path across her flesh to slaves brand, a brand she had yet to see clearly since it was savagely bestowed upon her seasons earlier. Her weight shifted abruptly and the mirror lowered with a long exhaled breath. She couldn't think about this now, she didn't want to deal with this. Shiress was an emotional mess and this was the last thing she needed to worry about.

Shiress turned and stepped away from the table, taking a few steps in the Myrian's direction before she hesitated and turned again as if she would attempt to slip away. But, thinking better, She shook her head and turned again toward Razkar and stepped up quietly by his side. After a few ticks had passed, she gently touched his arm as she glanced nervously over her shoulder beforr speaking. "I really think we should leave now. I mean...if that's Okay."

[Razkar]

"I really think we should leave now. I mean... if that's okay?"

Razkar wondered exactly when they became a "we". He had his errands to run and the female probably had her own, yet there she was, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot and anxious to leave this corner of the Bazaar... but unwilling to do so until he joined her.

Maybe she's just worried that petching male will track her down.

Only half-believing that, the Myrian looked her up and down and nodded his thanks to the cloth-swaddled Benshira who ran the archery stand. Dozens, hundreds of long shafts of metal-tipped wood of all kinds were displayed in there, including the set of thin-headed arrows that were designed to punch through plate armor. Dark, desert-born eyes regarded the savage warily when he bought those.

Moaba was far from stupid (you didn't survive the trip from Eyktol to Sylira if you were) and had been in business for a long time; he knew the only people who wore plate around the city were the Knights. Still, a customer was a customer...

"Be careful with those."

Razkar's eyebrow quirked, a little taken aback at the sound of concern in the stranger's voice... then saw a flickering of camaraderie in those dark eyes, almost as dark as his own, permanently closed against the sun by a pace where stones could suffice as camp fires in the midday sun. His lips pulled up at one corner in understanding.

Us outsiders stick together... theoretically, anyway.

"I will try."

Then they were walking again, Razkar picking up the pace for his new friend's benefit. But now they moved without intent or destination, merely weaving randomly, deeper into the Bazaar, Mrrko clip-clopping between them and simply happy to be without Razkar's weight on his back. The Myrian kept his eyes open for the sight of gleaming metal figures, ready to shout out a challenge or an order, but as of yet, nothing.

So his eyes slid down again to what he'd noticed before. Stark and speaking of agony, etched onto her skin. Razkar had frowned when he'd first glimpsed those marks on the girl's wrist. Anyone who set eyes on the Myrian would know the man was... something of an aficionado of scars, one might say. His own body was a mixed tapestry of old wounds and fresher, healing ones. But those were gained mostly in combat; the one on her skin...

Razkar's jaw tightened as a flash of realization went through him. Ah, yes. Now he remembered.

The slaver caravan he and his impromptu band of sellswords had ambushed at the beginning of the season. Many of them were branded the same way: their names burned onto hands or wrists or, if their appearances weren't important, their cheeks and foreheads.

Razkar felt a roil of discomfort churn in his guts that was surprising. The girl had it on a very discreet place; perhaps she was used for more... carnal purposes? Her masters would not have wanted her looks ruined when they...

You don't know that and stop worrying about it. Furthermore-

"What is you name, female?" He finally spoke as they walked, looking down and to the side as her auburn locks flicked around when she turned to him. A polite, oddly un-savage smile greeted her. "Cannot call you 'girl' or 'female' whole time we talk. I am Razkar of the Shorn Skulls, Son of Yurta and Zek, Child of Myri and Warrior of the Taloba Army."

Her eyebrows rose and now the smile widened into something truly mirthful, filed points he had for teeth flistening.

"I know. Sounds like mouthful for barbarian ears. But is who I am."

[Shiress]

Shiress eyed the Myrian's purchased weaponry intently as he completed his transaction. She did wonder what the man needed such arrows for, but she didn't feel inclined to inquire about it, his business was his own and none of hers.

At last they were on their way, both walking carefully through the crowd. Shiress' face, green eyes trailing along the floor in front of her, glancing up occasionally to scan the area ahead. The corner of her eye caught sight of the Myrian's dark eyes as they turned her way. She didn't look up to meet his gaze, but she knew he was looking at her. As his eyes turned away, she glanced up and found his expression to be one of deep thought, but again she remained silent. He's probably sizing me up for dinner she thought just as the Myrian broke the silence between them and spoke. Green eyes shot up to meet he his, a look of surprise and tinge of remorse on her face as if the man had heard her thought, but of course he hadn't so he began his introduction.

After he spoke, Razkar gave a spiky grin and Shiress smiled, shaking her head as she tucked several fallen strands of hair behind her ear. "Nice to meet you, Razkar. I'm Shiress..of Zeltiva, daughter of Zachiah and Lorna, sister of Zane And barmaid extraordinaire of The Rearing Stallion." She said, tossing her arm through the air to aid in the effectiveness of the introduction as she flashed the Myrian a genuine smile and laughed. "Well, That's who I am." She added then fell silent, looking forward again.

The mention of her parents and brother made her heart sink into her stomach. Not knowing if they were alive or dead, she hoped she was still there daughter and sister. She sighed, pushing the thought away, and looked again to Razkar, a smile spreading across her lips again. " I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but I do thank you for stepping in back there." She said, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder. " I'm not sure what would have happened had you not. Truth is, I guess you could say I did steal a drink from that man, but I thought he'd left his table as well as his drinks behind, a drunken mistake I admit. He demanded payment in the form of a woman. So, to get him to stop and get him off of me, I told him I worked at The Herald's Arm and I could repay him in a much better way there. Well, one thing led to another and we found ourselves outside accompanied by a girlfriend of mine." Shiress paused with a sigh and drew in a deep breath before continuing. To make a long story short, we fought our way free of him, leaving him rather bloody and with a broken hand, I think. That was the last I saw of him until a few chimes ago."

Shiress' green eyes slid up to Razkar, Waiting for his reaction. The girl knew full well she had left off a very important part of the story, the part about when she had stabbed a man that night, leaving him for, and pretty sure he was, dead. But why should she share such details when there was no way the Myrian could know or could ever find out, right?

[Razkar]

Razkar's eyebrow cocked wryly when "Shiress" capped her introduction with a flourishing wave, as if she'd just finished some grand ode or soliloquy on a stage. He didn't quite smile, but his lips quirked and rippled as if he was suppressing the action, arms crossed and eyes glittering as he listened.

A touch of the theatrical to this one, perhaps. These barbarian women seem to have a lot of that.

But there was no mirth in his gaze when the rest of her story was told, quarrels with some male over booze that was not hers to take... a feud of her own design, as far as he could tell, but what right did a male have to force himself on a female physically in payment for a cup of grog?

Unsmiling, the Myrian shook his head again, though probably not for the reasons Shiress suspected. A year among the barbarians and he had, admittedly, absorbed many of their traits... but a male treating a female so... it was an abomination.

Suddenly his eyebrows both dropped, frown darkening his features. Her recount was... oddly familiar to one that Edri had told him of a few nights before. A fight, some uppity drunk and a girl with brown hair and a pale friend... a commotion outside... but no... surely not. Razkar looked the lithe and innocent-looking female up and down, half-a-foot and eighty pounds lighter than him and...

And what, male? How many barbarians with self-important cocks swinging between their legs have made that mistake regarding Myrian females? How many ended up choking on said cocks?

"I think..." He said slowly, picking his words carefully. "... mistake was yours to make. But male went too far. Could have taken gold and been even."

He shrugged, talking as he walked, perusing some of the stalls they passed, looking for all the world not like a man who'd just beaten the living shyke out of another.

Aside from the tattoos and physique and weapons and piercings an teeth and... well, he didn't look worried, anyway.

"That is way in these lands, correct?" He leaned down to inspect a roll of bandages, one of a dozen rolled from spiderwebs rolled by an old Svefra, sitting behind her stall buried in a shawl. "Insult is made, gold is paid. Easy. Could have taken, but wanted... violation."

The Myrian spat the word with a venom that truly impressed her. Part of her wondered if it was from personal experience such hatred stemmed, but the truth was, rape for a Myrian was... as incomprehensible as the death of Myri, or the extinction of their race. Every generation a few utterly irredeemable scaleless snakes were produced who would dare such things, but... Razkar shook his head.

What possesses them?

He sighed, replacing the bandages and keeping his hand on them until the old woman looked up. Her face was almost clay-colored from the baking skies, wrinkles like leather but all that just made her brilliant azure eyes even brighter, sharp and blinding even now. Razkar swallowed and spoke... something else.

"Thank you. Good day."

The Svefra Elder blinked back her surprise as her ears pieced together her own tongue, growled out by a hesitant tongue rather than flowing like the water all her kin were born and raised upon. But savage though the man was, he got his words across and she tipped her head to him, cloth shawl rustling as she murmured back: "Fair winds to thee."

Razkar frowned a touch... then smiled. Yes, he had heard Edreina say that a few times. It was basically a Svefra version of "farewell", and the hand gesture she did with it - hand going from a closed fist to open palm, pushing ahead as if she was throwing something - was the correct one to use.

Another nod, and he walked away, happy that his third language was coming along, bit by bit. Oh, and then he remembered Shiress.

"Still!" The word was a bark, sharp and high and almost making her flinch. "Might learn to defend self, get weapon or train. Big savage bastard not always be around to save pretty female." The smile was so close to charming and could have been seductive, had it been attempted by lips not pierced and scarred. As it was, Razkar just chuckled and shrugged, nodding to a nearby street vendor. "Come. Let you buy dumb male lunch. Make even for help, hmm?"

[Shiress]

"Yes." Mumbled Shiress, shaking her head. "My mistake"

Her gaze ahead was more careful now, if not paranoid. Each face was studied as they passed by her, their clothes quickly assessed for fear a squire or knight was on their way to grab her by the arm and escort her away to the tank, or worse.

"That's probably correct...wait.. what do you mean? Most of the time an apology will do, I think and I don't think everyone requires a fist full of gold coins to persuade them to not rape a woman. The knights are - I mean they.." She sighed. Shiress didn't trust the knights or their squires. They were arrogant, self loving, power seeking jerks. At least, that's how she saw them and her analysis of the metal clad peacekeepers probably wasn't that far off from the truth. "Eh, You are probably right. Gold seems to run everything these days." She Said, glancing over to the Myrian only to realize she was alone and obviously having a conversation with herself. She twisted around and quickly spotted the man several paces back at a table. "That man didn't hear a petching....aggghhhh!"

She turned around and headed back in the direction she had just came and planet her rear end on a tabletop near where Razkar stood and began twisting and turning from side to side trying to see the wound on her back, but failed miserably and sighed, slumping her shoulders with a frown in the general direction of the Myrian and waited while he finished doing whatever it was he was doing. Flirting? Shiress giggled as the woman swung her arm out in front of her, obviously shooing off the inked and scared, shark toothed man or so it seemed from her table top perspective.

Shiress quickly composed herself and returned to her feet as soon as Razkar finally noticed his damsel in distress was still there, but when he spoke of her needing a weapon and the fact that there won't always be a half naked, pierced and drawn on man to bail her out a difficult situations, it made her shoulders sink. Then she looked at him and with a double take her eyebrows rose as she bit her bottom lip. "Did that hurt?" She asked, taking a step closer and pointing to his pierced lip, almost touching it before rethinking her approach and stepping back again. " anyway, you're right. I know, I have a lot to learn."

She nodded her agreeance to the lunch deal and stepped up to the cart and motioned to the man for two meals then placed two gold coins on the edge of the cart. "I do have a kukri knife, sword thing." She said as she watched the man plunge a large metal ladle into a pot and fill two bowls with what appeared to be a soup of some making. " but I've held it once and that was the day I bought it...Thank you." she turn to Razkar holding out two hot bowls of soup in each hand. "Well, do you want to find a table here?" she asked, glancing around. " Or do you want to find a quiet picnic spot?"

[Razkar]

"Did that hurt?"

Oddly enough, Razkar didn't jerk away from her hand. In fact, the only things that moved were his eyes, tracking her finger's progress from her side... to the very tip of his jaw where the bottom of his piercing jutted from his lip... and then hurriedly back again. The Myrian stroked carved piece of bone, eyes glazing over in fond reverie.

"Going in? Yes. Coming out?" He didn't so much as flinch or wince as he... unscrewed the piercing, for want of a better word, pulling it from the inside of his mouth. He held it up for her, letting her see the finish on it his father had worked, the way it had been whittled down from a full vertebrae to a piercing barely an inch long. "Not so bad. But worst? Getting it. This was from first Dhani I ever kill." The Myrian patted the gladius at his belt, though it seemed more a caress to the female's eyes. "Put this through her back, went through heart and spine... and bitch still fought like dying tiger. Was... worth it. All pain."

"I do have a kukri knife, sword thing. But I've held it once and that was the day I bought it...Thank you."

Razkar was busy fixing the plug back in place when the soup was served and she mentioned her blade. His eyebrows quirked up when she mentioned what it was, and with a grin he unsheathed the blade hanging upside down from his chest.

"Like this?"

He twirled his own kukri from side to side, inwardly curved blade glinting in the weak light from the torches and glass-smothered Syna. It had a worn handle, obviously a weapon well-used, but the edge was keen as ever, sharpened every day by one of a race who practically worshiped their arms.

"Good blade to have. Good for thrust and hack. I am better with others, but that is good start for you... oh, my thanks."

The savage frowned as he sniffed the steaming pot of froth, chunks of brown, sizzling meat bobbing gently on the surface. An aroma of heat and herbs and lightly-charred beef assailed his nose... and he smiled.

Not a spit-roast with the clan, but the barbarians aren't completely clueless when it comes to food.

"Well, do you want to find a table here? Or do you want to find a quiet picnic spot?"

Razkar shrugged and his head swung around, long hair flapping around his shoulders. "Picnic spots" weren't exactly easy to come by in the Stormhold, where everything under your feet was stone and your head was constantly under roofs and eaves. But... yes... that looked promising.

"You see?"

He pointed with a long, tanned arm, coils of ink and scars wrapped around it, and she followed his finger to see the stained glass window. Maybe twenty feet tall, the colored image of a steadfast knight slaying a demonic-looking Yukman threw shadows of every color onto the ground for dozens of yards. It was so bright and clear they might have been directly under Syna... if Syna had been dosed with the right drugs and given a whole new palette.

"That looks good." He said with a sly wink. "Maybe you can eat and not worry about Knights, hmm?"

[Shiress]

Shiress stared curiously at the Myrian as one of his fingers disappeared into his mouth and the other tugged the piercing from his lip. She didn't so much as cringe at the site of the piercing or the hole it had left behind. Having seen much worse in the university's infirmary under her mothers nursing instruction long ago in Zeltiva, she was accustomed to the more gruesome side of medicine. Hooks through hands, feet and even once a stomach, deep gashes and accidental stabbings had all been seen before. So, an intentional piercing was nothing to the girl, but the story of where the decoration had come from was a totally different story.

Her curious stare shifted into a blank glare of disbelief as her eyes returned from his waist and the blade that he patted like a baby's butt. The disbelief wasn't so much that he had killed someone, looking at him might suggest that he had, but it was the way he told his proud story of adorning a body part of the one he had slain. By the end of the Dhani story, Shiress' stomach was set on edge.

"Well, mine isnt quite so...used." She said, furrowing her eye brows as Razkar twirled about his weapon. She could have sworn that there were blood stains on it. She quickly looked away, not wanting to be sure of what she thought was there.

Who is this man? Do I want to know? Ugh! Whoever Razkar son of somebody is, I'm indebted to him..

Green eyes slid up in time to see the man sniffing at his lunch. She smiled softly, giving herself a quiet chuckle. "Who is Shiress?" She mumbled as her eyes trailed along the dark and scared arm to their eating spot.

Oh Gods

Shiress' eyes widened and her mouth fell open . Her idea of the knights had been captured with paint on a window, but with herself under their sword and not that helpless evil looking creature. Or was that her? Shoulders slumped and knees buckled. What's this man trying to do to me The steaming soup sloshed and twirled about in the bowl she held. The hot liquid was forced up one side, tipping over the rim and dousing tender skin, sending a cat like howl issuing through her lips followed by a hissed breath sucked through clinched teeth. "Owww! She growled, shifting the bowl quickly to the other hand as singed fingertips disappeared into her mouth. Cold green eyes met the grinning Myrian, a hard stare and audible "humph! before she turned and walked toward the heroic knightly picture and planted herself against the wall beneath it. She settled her soup bowl down beside her with a quick glanced up to the painting, just making sure the knight wasn't aiming anything at her head.

After Razkar had settled himself, she scooted her bowl over to him. "Im not that hungry at the moment." She said, holding her stomach with a sour look on her face. "You can have it if you want it." She sat quietly afterwards, occasionally replacing her bright red fingertips between her lips, giving them a once over before attempting to shake off the lingering sting.

At last, her hands settled still in her lap and she took advantage of the Myrian's lost attention with his lunch to evaluate his scared, bone pierced and inked skin. The only Myrian the girl had known was a woman and future doctor and she looked nothing like this one. A smile spread slowly across Shiress' lips with the thought of Min. The female Myrian may not have looked much like the one sitting before her, but her attitude and boldness was much the same, especially when one Dr. Orion Michaels would get under her bronzed skin and boy did he. The time the girl had spent at the Soothing Waters recovering under the care of Min wasn't so boring as one might think, not having the entertainment of them two butting heads.

Shiress shot up straight with a thought, eyes lingering a tick on Razkar before her hand disappeared around to her side, grabbing her bag and slinging it around to her lap. She flipped open the top and began rummaging around its contents. Finally, a blue stoned hair comb was lifted from its depths. Slinging the bag back around to her side, she lifted her eyes slowly. "I have a question." She said, bringing herself to her knees as her arm stretched out, presenting the Myrian with the comb. "How much would it cost me if you were to take these jewels and make them into piercings for my ears and then...maybe pierce them for me? I see a lot of women that wear jewels there." Shiress lowered back to her rear end, gazing down as her fingertips ran across the small round and square stones that were perfectly embedded into the hairpiece and sighed. "Well, the pretty ones wear them." She whispered softly.

[Razkar]

Razkar studied the window, rapt and wide eyed as he chewed his soup. The base was a creamy sensation he wasn't expecting from a mere vendor, but the meat? He shrugged mentally at the bland, over-cooked flavor.

Can't have everything.

He was also not so affluent that he would turn away seconds when offered, and a few passing by frowned at the sound of shameless slurping... then frowns became wide eyes when they found a tattooed Myrian practically licking the bowl. Both of them.

Razkar was trapped in that picture, though. The bustle and rumbling of the Stormhold muted around him as he let his mind wander, staring up at that valorous scene, played out and frozen for all eternity (or until the glass breaks, he added a little cynically). Who was that particular Ser? Was his bravery truly so great? Was it a battle before the mighty walls they were ensconced within? Some distant field that now bore no marks of such a titanic duel? How old was it? A few years? A few centuries? More?

"I have a question."

The Myrian took a few moments to realize he was being spoken to, turning to her as he fastidiously picked his teeth clean, dislodging a few determined scraps of-

"Impressive..."

He murmured the word in his own tongue as his eyes found the comb, then his fingers a moment later. It was elegant in its beauty. Not overflowing with jewels, nor studded and caked in gold nor gems. His layman eyes didn't even knew if they were truly gems, or just shiny stones... but the effect was...

"Very nice."

"How much would it cost me if you were to take these jewels and make them into piercings for my ears and then... maybe pierce them for me? I see a lot of women that wear jewels there."

Black, confused eyes crushed by his brows flickered up to her and saw the brown-haired girl look down, fingers tracing the placings of those perhaps precious stones. He cocked his head as his voice changed, her strange and complex request forgotten when he heard her whisper-

"Well, the pretty ones wear them."

The Myrian sighed softly. A sad smile tugged his lips. Women would every-confound him, he was sure. This... Shiress, a beauty, a radiant thing with life and vitality and Syna's own light bright in her smile... and still she thought she needed polished stone to look pretty?

"I am not a stone-crafter, Mistress. Not a... piercer, either." His lips twitched and a dark light flared briefly in his eyes. "I am best with other kind of pierce, hmm?"

Whatever macabre bravado was in him left at the sight of her disappointment. Razkar hated seeing that crushed expression in a female's eyes, though he had to admit, it was more common that side of the water. The females of Falyndar guarded their pain, physical or mental, but these barbarians...

Maybe you're just getting sentimental?

"Maybe..."

Another murmur in a tongue she could not follow, but when she turned to him again, mouth open-

-Razkar had got to his feet with a jerk like a sprung wound tight then let loose, slapping his bare knees and grinning with those shark-like teeth. His eyes shone with fresh purpose and he arose to his full six feet, eyes flickering around the edge of the Great Bazaar. The Myrian inhaled like a blood hound and rubbed his hands together.

"So! Because I cannot do, I will help Shiress find one who can. Four eyes find much faster than two, hmm?" His eyes clouded a touch and he added, as if to himself, "And I need to find man who is good with needle, too. Need to make adding to tattoo..."

[Shiress]

Razkar shot to his feet in less then half a tick and within the last half of that tick, Shiress had shot to hers, startled and breathing heavily. Only after realizing the Myrian hadn't spotted a spider..or knight did the girl ease a bit, arching a brow and looking curiously at Razkar as he explained his intentions. Her desire for piercings was suddenly gone with the thought of someone, probably lacking a single piercing themselves, coming at her with a needle or knife, or what ever was used. Well, that and maybe an extended amount of time spent in the market.

With her head locked in place, she bit her bottom lip as green eyes wandered cautiously around to the nearby tables. Looking back, she cleared her throat. "Are you sure you can't at least..try?" She asked, giving a crooked smile and shifting her weight. "Seems like you may have a bit more respect for such a procedure. Realizing how absurd that comment sounded, she tucked hair behind her ear with an audible sigh.

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again thinking she'd only shove her foot farther into her mouth. "Well, okay." She finally relented, securing her bag around her shoulder. "I think there's a man with, uh, needles near the entrance." She said with a little bit of reluctancy in her tone. She stooped down and grabbed the empty and licked clean soup bowls from the floor. "Maybe I should get a tattoo while I'm at it." She mumbled sarcastically under her breath as she turned and tossed the bowls into a barrel.

Ear piercings, Shiress? Really? Ugh..you stupid barmaid

She stepped around the man's mount and into the crowd, keeping the stone wall on one side as patrons scurried by on the other, wishing she wasn't quite so impulsive sometimes.

"Hey, Razkar?" She called, glancing over her shoulder. "On a scale from 1 to 10 how bad is this gonna hurt? Actually.." She slid a finger up her brow and shook her head. "Don't answer that."