Closed Strange Girls (Vanari)

[Kit Rowan]

Day 21, Season of Fall, 513 AV

The rattling of chains, the feeling of cold iron on her wrists. A hand seizing her her, tilted her head up, a shadowy face with white eyes and a smile wide was the world. You are alone, and no one will save you. Kit squirmed, grimaced, snarled. No one will save you. A moment of terrible clarity, and Kit's eyes flung open.

She lay in a bedroll on a strange floor, momentarily silent. The sun had begun to leak through curtains. This was not her room, Kit realized, and was hit with a sudden, terrible panic. Where was she? Where?! Kit looked up, saw the steady rise and fall of Vanari's form on the bed above her, and the order of things clicked together. Kit cast a quick glamour over her body, the glamours that had faded over the night once more nailed hard in place, and the red-haired Alvad became Ria once more.

Bit by bit, Kit squirmed out of the roll, slow and quiet as she could manage a slim girl with nothing more than a chemise for modesty. She tried to make herself a ghost in Vanari's room, stepped in time with the older girl's breathing. She found where her shirt had been folded to the side, slipped it back over her body, pulled her trousers on one leg at a time. The floor creaked and Kit winced, looking over to Vanari for a long moment. If the Vantha had woken, Kit could not see it.

Kit wrapped her belt around her waist and tightened it properly, slipped her dagger back in its place, grabbed her cloak and pulled it over her shoulder. Kit turned the knob of the door, biting down on her lip, hoping the noise would not be enough to rouse her friend, slipped out and closed the door with a soft latching sound. For a moment, there was nothing at all. Then a glossy azure seemed to soundlessly etch itself into the very wood of the door solidified into shapes into letters. It said:

17TH BELL

SILVER SLIVER

The message persisted for three bells before fading away into into the realm of imagination and dubious memory.

There were only a few ways that one could approach the Silver Sliver, and Kit thought she had them locked down. The Nitrozians didn't want people to simply jump on a Ravosala and glide on past their services. They needed to browse, and so the system of bridges and roads here was extensive. Kit scanned her eyes over all the avenues of entry; streets to the side, canals in front, brides all around, looking for the one curious girl that she was interested in talking to. She wore Ria's face still, leaning up against the side of a nearby building, scanning the crowd for Ari.

Kit still knew little about Vanari. Perhaps too little. Was she employed? How was she doing? Was she in any danger? Kit knew that she was an accomplished traveler—how else does one get from Taldera to Ravok?—But everything else about the girl was an enigma, and that needed to change.

So Kit waited, tapped her feet, bit her lip and hoped that Vanari would bite the bait she had left on her door.

[Vanari]

Vanari sat bolt right in her scratchy bed, a strangled cry half formed in her throat and the point of her dagger stabbing at...

...nothing.

A dream. A bad dream. One of clinks and clanks of armored footsteps echoing down pitch black alleyways, of blood seeping in between the cracks of cobbled stones and dirty limbs twisted at impossible angles. She brought a hand up gingerly to her face, feeling wetness against her cheeks. Startled, she wiped it hastily with her bare arms, afraid Ria would catch her in such an unseemly state. And here, after so many years of hardship, she thought she'd been long past useless tears.

Ria. Vanari looked frantically around, but found only an empty bedroll and curious, glowing message etched on the door. Her heart leaped to her throat.

17TH BELL

SILVER SLIVER

She jumped from the tangle of sheets, tripped, and cursed the rest of the way to the door. Pressing her face close enough to smell the old wood, she peered with manic glee at the glossy, azure letters.

Amazing! Was it an illusion? Vanari touched it, expecting to feel the familiar grooves of carved wood, but her fingers sensed only the even, rough surface of the door. Distantly, her mind recalled that once upon a time, she had read something of Illusionism and its limits. It must be true, then, the way only one sense at a time could be affected. Though, the how's and why's were still leagues upon leagues beyond her understanding.

Vanari looked dejectedly at the pile of grimy rags beside her bed. Sighing, she pulled out her best set of clothes: an orange tunic and a pair of muted, purple leggings. Perhaps it would make her easier to spot--not that her height didn't function well enough on its own. She looked up once she finished dressing, ready to confirm the time and place before heading out.

The message was fading.

No, no, no! Vanari ran to the door, staring at the dissipating illusion as though willing it to stay put. It didn't, and in a matter of ticks it was gone. As though it had never existed.

"Petch," the Vantha hissed. Yes, it was just a simple trick, one that Ria could undoubtedly preform a hundred times over. But it had also been her first chance to study an illusion up close. Five long years of searching and she had at last come across a true bit of Illusionism, plain and open for her to see. Such a wondrous thing, it was, and Vanari was hard put to let it go so soon.

No matter, she told herself. She was going to see Ria again today--without the presence of bloodthirsty Ebonstryfe, hopefully--and there would be no shortage of opportunities to learn more of...well, everything!

Vanari suddenly looked out the window in alarm. What bell was it even? She bolted out of the room, barely remembering to lock it, and stuffed the key in her boots as she flew down the stairs two at a time. The Vantha squinted at the sun as she burst from the front doors. The yellow orb hung rather low in the sky, but still shed enough light for shops to remain open. She resisted the urge to ask someone for the time; after her recent dance with death, she felt less than eager at the prospect of somehow accidentally speaking to a psychopathic axe murderer.

There was no point in lingering. She set off at a brisk jog, making her way towards the Silver Sliver. Vanari had been there once so it was a fairly smooth journey, stopping only once or twice to squeeze past a loitering crowd or snake her way around a narrow path.

By the time she reached her destination, the sun hung just a little lower in the dusty sky and people were setting down their tasks to grab a bit of dinner. Not knowing how she would find Ria's slight frame amongst the throng of people, she simply wove her way to a less crowded spot and stood upon an empty crate. There, that should do the trick.

Unfortunately, she hadn't taken into consideration that people other than Ria might notice her as well. Feeling more and more self-conscious by the tick, Vanari reddened, her shoulders slumped. Then, a fit of mysterious courage--or insanity, perhaps--overtook her. She threw caution to the wind, planted her hands on her hips, and found that familiar, mad grin the two girls had shared so many times the night before.

"Hear ye, hear ye, good citizens of Ravok! I've a dark tale to spin, one of murder and intrigue. Who dares to listen?"

[Kit Rowan]

Kit pawed at her eyes and face, yawned. There was a reason she limited her excursions to the night of the new moon. Already it had left Kit a bit witless in the face of the slow march of the day, and the steady ache of her body after afternoon deliveries was doing nothing to remedy her sleepiness. When Kit opened her eyes she stared down at the backs of her hands, looked over the heavy freckles she found there, pulled up her sleeves and found them there as well. Of course they were there; Kit had put them there, but nevertheless she felt a smile swell up on her face as she rubbed her hands over them, watched them stretch and distort, like they were her own skin.

Shy was the girl whose face Kit wore to be safe, and it chafed like an ill-fitting mask. Kit like this freckled girl, this Ria, quite dearly. She was brave and bold in a way that Shy never was; dark, sleek and dangerous in her own clever way. Kit could grow comfortable being Ria for a very long while. The boon of being able to reinvent herself on a whim was something that Kit had yet to find a way to repay the Trickster for. One day . . .

It wasn't hard to pick Vanari out from the crowd; orange and purple! Kit smiled . . . They were not the safest colors to wear in Ravok, where everything was either dark or black, but It approved of her mismatched fashion. It reminded her of home.

But when Vanari opened her mouth Kit's heart began to sink fast. The prelude sounded very like a real and recent story, and her audience . . . Kit looked around, saw the faces of ordinary Ravokians. They were mostly good people, who had been told that Rhysol was good and the Ebonstryfe was right often enough that they have no issue killing someone who they thought to be an evil dissenter. Kit found her way to the front of the crowd, pulled open her cloak and cast another glamour over its inside, this time tailor made for Vanari's eyes and no one else's.

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[Vanari]

It only took about a tick for her to realize what the hell it was she was seeing, but at least a dozen more to make sense of it.

Ahh, Ria, she mentally sighed, you clever thing, you.

It was a yet another blessing, the timely warning. Not, of course, that Vanari had been planning to outright name the Stryfe and conveniently lead them to their recently escaped targets. But any hints of truth now had to be heavily concealed, and the Vantha felt a thrill of fear and excitement course through her at this new, unexpected challenge.

"Listen here! Our twisted tale begins just a bell before midnight, the moon a sliver so thin it hangs like a clipped fingernail in the sky, and the streets so empty and quiet you can hear your own heart beating against its bony cage. But we all know the streets are never truly empty; not with the few evil things that lurk about in such hours, preying on darkness and fear, on shattered hearts and uneasy minds."

She had the attention of the crowd now. Wasting no time, the Vantha pressed on.

"Yes, we all know this. But, what of the drunkards, the thieves, the lost and forlorn? In fact, on this particular, foreboding night, one such character can be seen stumbling through the darkness, down the cold, grey street and weeping fat tears onto his soft, elegant hands. A tall, handsome boy from a wealthy family, his coat of fine velvet, his shoes of brightly polished leather, and his blue eyes sunken with so much sadness he can barely remember his own name.

Poor, delusional sod. He had just left his favorite brothel with the shattered remains of his heart. Tried to whisk his beloved away, take her far from her lowly stations so that she may forever be by his side. But, Elana was what she was. Why would she choose to be otherwise, and for who? A boy greener than the bad end of a moldy loaf? Gods be good, she'd rather starve."

The men amongst the crowd chuckled, but a few women merely sighed wistfully, wishing they could take the ungrateful whore's place for a chance to escape their daily toils and drudgery.

"Well, the poor lad drags himself about, unable to decide whether he should face the disapproving shame of his family, or just leap off a bridge and end his misery right then and there.

That's when he hears it: a high pitched cackle like bones scraping and breaking against one another, so sudden and monstrous it sends the very hairs on his neck straining from his flesh. The next thing he knows, he's watching a writhing mass of darkness take form on the ground before him. When it rounds its shapeless head on him, its eyeless sockets weep blood and its impossibly wide mouth stretches to show a hundred, razor sharp teeth."

Some of her audience wailed, others grimaced and looked about nervously. The sun was setting now, effectively lending her impromptu story a sense of impending doom that broad daylight would have otherwise robbed.

Vanari adopted an eery, lopsided grin and a hissing, rasping voice to match it. "Boyyy, your heart is ssso broken. So wondroussly, deliciousssly, brrroken. Tell me, child, why ssshould I not eat it for myssself right this verry moment?"

The voice, slippery and revolting, was like an ice cold touch on the boy's mind. He froze; he couldn't think, couldn't move. He knew that if this creature ate his heart, he would be left to a fate worse than death. But what could he do? What did he even have to live for? He was so cold, so lost...he was done for...

Some of the crowd shouted angrily in protest, urging the boy to buck up and grow a pair of proper balls. "Fight!" one man shouted. "Come on, boy, it's just a nasty trick!"

Vanari grinned wider, then continued. "The demon draws nearer. The boy cannot move. And, just when he lowers his head in defeat..."

The Vantha suddenly leapt off the crate and, holding her hands out before her, ran in a half circle as she swept them over the crowd. Several people cried out in wonder in alarm, backing slightly away but still eager to know what came next. "A sudden breeze cuts across between the demon and the boy--someone has just flown past them, landing not a few hand spans away. A figure hidden beneath a cloak, its bright green eyes burning with anger as it boldly faces the demon!"

She jumped back onto her crate and, spotting Ria's dark head watching out amongst the crowd, waggled her eyebrows as though daring her petite friend to come join the performance.

[Kit Rowan]

Kit let the cloak fall to her side as Vanari kept on going, her wariness never so easily banished. She bit down on her lip, scuffled her feet abut on the floor and gripped at her wrist as Vanari kept up her performance, and though her brows knitted closer when Vanari mentioned brothels and dangers in the night, at 'demon' Kit tried to make herself relax. If there was n mention of a raid, no mention of men storming through . . . Perhaps it really would be enough to mask it.

But soon it became quite clear to Kit that her friend had something else in mind entirely. Color found its way on falsely freckled cheeks as her smile reemerged, hooked to the side. But at Vanari's pause Kit realized that the Vantha did not want to spin this tail just to praise Ria, no. She wanted to pull her into it. Kit clasped and unclasped her nervous hands, remembering performing before a crowd . . . And before she knew what she was doing Kit was walking, running forward!

She raised her hands into the air, straight up, and pressed them against the ground, and the momentum of her run kept her rear moving even when her hands were planted on the ground. In the very moment she was most straight in the air, Kit twisted her hips around, made a half spun around. Kit landed with both feet together, turned toward the audience that she had until just now been a part of.

"Back, monster!" Kit said, standing like a wall in front of Vanari and drawing an imaginary sword from her belt, pointing toward the nothing to the side. "You may have swallowed a thousand hearts, but you will not have this one!"

Kit was no storyteller. That was simply the way of things. Wrenmae had always been the one who liked to weave a tale, while Kit had always sought to wow her audience with the tricks she could pull out of her own body. Kit could not summon the same air of gravity that Ari could, could not whisper in a voice they all could hear, and was suddenly grasping for straws for her next line. But at least she could use her athleticism to accompany her weak storytelling!

It seemed from the audience's reaction that she had at least some success in that surprised, pleased sounds coming from somewhere in the front rows, and when Kit took a glance to the side she saw a great many interested stares on her. "Not until you get through me!"

[Vanari]

OOC :

I actually physically whooped and cheered when Ria jumped into the story xD God, so sucked into this...

Her mouth fell open as she watched Ria fly through the air with the grace and precision of a well thrown dagger. To the crowd, Vanari must have played her part well. The boy that Ria was now defending was utterly and properly stupefied, shocked and awed and delirious with joy all at once.

The people of Ravok, equally thrilled and mystified, watched in rapt attention, their eyes never leaving the mysterious, dark haired rescuer. It was probably the last thing they expected, to have this simple tale burst into life out without warning. Ria's acrobatic flair lent so much more realism and excitement than Vanari's words ever could by themselves that the Vantha felt she developed an inkling of what being in a real troupe might feel like.

That, and Ria herself played the part all too well of an enigmatic, unlikely heroine. She did have a slight edge, though, what with having already performed several heroic acts the night before.

And then, just when it seemed this would be the pinnacle of their performance, the slim illusionist surprised her partner once more. She drew an imaginary sword, pointed it at the air, and said with so much conviction Vanari wholeheartedly believed her, "You may have swallowed a thousand hearts, but you will not have this one!"

It was all the Vantha could do not to start clapping gleefully on the spot. Instead, she maintained the role of frightened, awe-stricken boy, still paralyzed with fear at the sight of the hungry demon.

There was no real hope of playing narrator, monster, and victim simultaneously anymore. She was a boy now. A rich, brokenhearted boy about to piss his expensive trousers. Clutching her hands to her chest, Vanari embraced the energy of the moment and went with whatever came to her head first.

"W-Watch out! It's g-g-growing!"

Together, they looked up, higher and higher, until their imaginary demon was at least ten or twelve feet tall. Vanari gave a strangled wail, her face contorted into a mask of hopeless terror. Hiding her mouth under her thick cloak, eyes still wide with horror, the Vantha chuckled evilly as loud as she could. It was a simple trick, but it had the desired effect. Those at the front of the crowd flinched back a little, a few gasping as well, not all of them aware of where the eerie laughter had come from.

Then, something--other than the imaginary mass of towering, demonic blackness--seemed to catch the boy's eye. The fear on his young face flickered, locked in a momentary battle with curiosity. "Look, do you see that?" he fake-whispered to his savior, still loud enough for the audience to hear. "I think...I see something red, something glowing in its chest! Maybe it's his heart?"

Vanari ducked behind her cloak as if to flinch while simultaneously heaving another set of slow, devilish chuckles. Before them, the crowd collectively held its breath, waiting to see what happened next.

[Kit Rowan]

Kit felt terribly, terribly lost. She knew enough of performance to know that confidence was everything, but there was only so much that pointing a sword made of belief at a fake thing could help. Vanari was a boon in this; her storytelling gave Kit's action direction. When Ari mentioned its growth, for a moment Kit kept pointing her sword where it was before, then, realization shaking her, jerked the sword at some higher point, stealing glancing at Vanari to see exactly where she was looking.

There was only so much time left until the audience was sure to take note of Kit's amateurish habits. "Don't worry," Kit assured, "I'll protect you." Kit made a wild dash toward nothing, turning her path suddenly to the side, at angle along the wall. She made the leap, feet touching wall, forward momentum holding her against it for a few precious ticks as she ran along the side, shoved off, and then she was flying through the air, toward where she hoped the creature was in the audience's imagination. Kit made a wild, motion with her hand that she prayed they would interpret as some sort of slash or cut.

Kit hit the ground in an easy roll. She kept her eyes closed, heart hammering hard in her chest from exertion and nerves both. Stood, slid her imaginary sword back in it sheathe—forgetting which side of her belt she had pulled it from. Kit opened her eyes, saw the audience, saw Vanari, and suddenly her throat felt very dry. She could find no words at all.

OOCIt really helps when you get into a thread, doesn't it? Sorry for the shortness by the way; this just felt like the post's natural end.

[Vanari]

OOC :

not a problem

She watched in open amazement as Ria burst into action, fighting the fictional demon with gusto, holding nothing back. If she hadn't been sure before, she was now; her partner was as natural to acrobatics as the Vantha was to spinning tales. Ria dashed, leaped, and flew as she battled the monster, hardly stopping to rest until she hit the ground in a roll and re-sheathed her imaginary sword.

"You--you did it!" Vanari cried, giving the crowd only a breath's worth of an opportunity to gape and gawk at Ria's stunts. "Look, it's shrinking now. You've pierced its heart!"

Their gazes sank inch by inch, until it seemed they were staring at but a speck on the ground. Not wasting any time, the Vantha swept up into a flurry of narration once more. "And so the demon was defeated, the boy saved, and a new heroine born. When the young man returned, he no longer quaked at things that once terrified him, remembering always the courage of his valiant savior. And, the downtrodden, the lost, and the abandoned had a new name to call upon in times of trouble."

Before anyone could react, Vanari tapped Ria on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear, and held up the acrobat's hand high into the air. "Good people of Ravok, I give you: Ira, The Champion of Darkness!"

The crowed exploded into applause and cheers, completely swept up in the fantasy. With a look of pure bliss, Vanari brought their hands down and bowed low, her other palm held reverently to her chest. She then muttered, on a complete whim, the deepest thanks she could muster to Ionu. There was much both girls owed to The Trickster, but this--their very first act together--seemed an appropriate place to start.

She was so lost in the excitement of a well received performance that the first coin to bounce toward them made her jump in surprise. Then another. Then another! Sooner than she thought possible, a shower of coins was steadily rolling, hopping, and falling their way. Vanari quickly undid her cloak and laid it out, watching in wonderment as the coins clinked merrily onto thick wool.

The Vantha bowed over and over in genuine gratitude, promising the crowd another performance in the near future. Some of them heartily patted her on the back, others simply smiled, and gradually they all returned to their usual business.

It took a while to finish gathering up all the coins, but Vanari didn't mind the slightest. Her heart was so full it felt ready to burst; she hadn't had this much fun busking in ages.

"So," she beamed, turning to Ria, the cloak heavy with their recent earnings. "Fifty fifty, what do you say?"

[Kit Rowan]

Watch her, please. Kit bid her god, tracing a hand over her mark, feeling the unnatural smoothness where divine branding had replaced skin. I think she'd be a lovely choice. She bowed with Vanari, slipped 'Ira' into her list f names to draw from when next necessary. It felt so strange to bow next to someone; the last time she had worked to perform alongside another was when she was younger, still learning the tricks of the trade from her mentors. It felt good to stand beside someone, to work with someone. Kit's heart swelled, and when she looked sideways at Vanari she felt immensely attracted to the older Vantha.

Kit, for her part, stepped behind Vanari, let her take the brunt of the praise. She still didn't want anyone becoming too comfortable with seeing a small acrobat on the streets, not while her old master yet lived, and though it pained her to see Ari taking all the credit she bit down on her lower lip and bore it. After all, the Vantha had done more, and then some.

Fifty-fifty? Oh, that's right. The mizas. "That seems fair to me," Kit said, didn't so much as glance at Ari's haul; hey eyes were on the girl herself, with those pretty golden eyes and honest face. Kit looked her friend up and down, considered. She reached back, clasped both her hands behind her back and smiled. "Ari," Kit said. "Do you like girls?"

She tilted her head to the side in a way that meant question, meandered closer. "Because I think I do. And right now you look like the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

[Vanari]

She nearly dropped the bundle of mizas in her hands. Gods, Ria was nearly as blunt as an Akalak. "Ummm..."

Vanari looked around, wondering if it was a good idea to be starting a potentially lengthy conversation out on the streets. She decided it wasn't, and ushered Ria hastily into the Silver Sliver. A table for two, a pair of dinner plates, and a bottle of wine later, they were finally sheltered in privacy and the Vantha felt ready to talk.

"That's...the first time anyone's ever said that to me," she began, her cheeks hotter than the steaming mutton on her plate. "To answer your question, I don't think I quite know yet. I've been kind of struggling to figure that out the whole time I've been here. Um, that is, because I sort of...accidentally purchased a full treatment at the House of Immortal Pleasures my first night in Ravok.

She downed her entire glass of wine and quickly poured herself another. The Vantha usually despised the taste of alcohol, but every now and then the occasion called for it. This was definitely such an occasion.

"That was actually why I'd been hiding behind all those smelly barrels of fish. Couldn't decide whether I should go back. If I should...you know...

Vanari gave her mutton a few listless stabs, for once not keen on devouring the food in front of her like some rabid animal. She didn't want to hurt her new friend, anymore than she had with Ely. But, this was all so new, so foreign to her. She was so fuzzy on how she truly felt that it didn't seem fair to lead anyone on.

"It feels good, to be with a woman, I don't deny that. Different, but good. I learned so much at the brothel, didn't even know certain, um, methods even existed. But it's damnably confusing for me as well. All my life, I'd dreamt of knights and rogues and strapping young hunters. I'd never been with a girl before until I stumbled into this strange city. What about you, Ria? Have you...do you always feel such attractions?"

Vanari felt flushed, and not just because of the wine. She's never been so honest on the subject with anyone before, but it somehow felt safe to confide in Ria. Besides, the girl was blunter than a wooden club; it only seemed right to speak freely back. Fidgeting a bit in her chair, she awaited the younger girl's answer, eager to better understand the clash of emotion and thought within her weary body.