Completed A Quiet Return

[Ariann]

Timestamp: 76, Winter 513AV [Eleventh Bell]

Zeltiva. It had been nearly two seasons since Ariann had left the city of Nyka and made her way back to Zeltiva, the swim taking a long while up-current. Yet miraculously enough, Ariann survived the trip. She had swum and swum for hours a day until she saw the familiar wooden planks of Zeltiva's docks.

And there she sat, today, her legs pulled up against her chest and her arms wrapped about them. Her sapphire skin was pock-marked with small white dots every now and then, giving a contrast to the beautiful shade of blue. Her eyes, a stark contrasting emerald color, a strange mark for her race. Another distinct difference between her and the rest of the charoda race would be the dorsal fins that adorned her head, fashioned to mimic flat planes of hair instead of a simple ride upon her head. Two fins breached her forehead and hung over her eyes like bangs, another two sprouted from the back of her head and bent over like pony tails and three more flattened the sides of her head, like normal locks of hair.

Ariann was sad. Her chin rested upon her knees as she felt the spray of water on her skin, cool and refreshing. She wore no clothing, nude in the evening as most charodae were. She waited and watched the water's surging, remembering her training in Reimancy.

Extending a gentle hand, she held her arm out over the water. Her fingers dipped and swerved, mimicking the motion of the water. The water reflected her movements, resisting the tide to follow her gesture and will. The water surged upwards in a single spire, swirling as it thickened until the tube of water was almost half a foot in width.

Ariann watched, holding the water still for a moment and feeling the strain of her Djed, the want to make more, to craft and destroy. She realized she had not been breathing while using her Reimancy, and sucked in a shaky breath. The water began to slow and whiten, the substance of the water slowly churning into snow and then ice. After only a moment, the water spout was a frozen spire of ice, with gentle grooves in the shape from the twisting of the spout as it froze.

It was an incomplete work, her Djed failing her as she let out her breath, closing her eyes. Yet the iced spire remained, afloat upon a platform of ice that rocked against the pier.

I miss having a home. Having friends. She thought to herself mournfully, frowning at the spire before her. I miss Charbosi.

[Stitchens Plint]

A walk around town had sounded perfect only two bells ago, but now it was a bit more than just a walk. Stitchens felt more like a buzzard, roaming the plains looking for fresh kills. In his case, fresh wounds. He had no need to justify himself as he stared at one person or another, the shimmering mark across his face was enough to speak volumes to most. Even those who did not know the blessings of Rak'kali were given no grief if they asked or demanded for the healer to move on. He did so without defense. It had been a long day at the infirmary, made even longer by the lack of actual work. He enjoyed healing or working manually to correct an injury as much as he enjoyed his daily exercises or meeting new friends. For now though, he kept the latter portion under his metaphorical hat. This was the wrong street to outwardly look for friends. His thick coat and thicker body frame helped give off a bravado of a warrior, so hopefully some would think better than to attack him. From the streets of Zeltiva down to the docks he made his way casually. As always those crystalline blue eyes flick like the lapping of waves over the shores of man. Zeltiva seemed quite modest for the moment, no injuries of dire circumstance came to his attention, and the little scrapes or bruises he saw the bearers had refused healing from the off-duty stranger. They weren't life threatening, so he did not contest very long before moving on. At the docks he took in a breath of mingled scents of sea and land life on the chill of a winter's air. He loved this season almost as much as Fall. It was a time of renewal. Or so he believed. Midst his wandering over sights, sounds and smells, he caught the sight of a slight oddity. A blue woman who appeared more fish than human. The name of the people escaped him, but he knew she was in fact not human. Turning on the balls of his feet, Stitchens made his way down the docks towards the lonesome looking.. female? Yes, the person was definitely female. Or a very lovely male with odd curves. "Hello," he offered kindly. "I hope you would not mind my company, I saw you sitting here all alone." As he drew closer, he noted the strange formation of ice near her. It was only given a quick glance before his attention was back on this stranger.

[Ariann]

The sudden noise of someone speaking to her tore her from her lonesome thoughts and made her jump slightly, turning her head and looking up at Stitchens. Her emerald eyes widened a bit when she spotted the Gnosis mark of Rak'keli. The mark could only mean one thing; this man was a devout follower of the Healer's way.

She had her own mark, etched into the back of her right hand, which began to glow slightly in the man's presence. Her bulbous eyes never swayed from the man's as she turned and stood up, revealing her body to him, entirely unclothed. She smiled at him, revealing several rows of dagger-sharp teeth in her mouth as if she was a shark. "Rak'keli blessed you, didn't she?" She asks with a smile, meeting his eyes with hers before averting them shyly, clasping her hands before her. Her marked hand would appear on top, the mark of her Healing Gnosis white upon her azure skin.

"I do not mind your company, mister... you are one of Rak'keli's faithful." She mumbled, a blue touch appearing on her face as she kept her eyes from his. "If you do not mind sitting with one of the Charoda, that is..."

[Stitchens Plint]

When the sea-woman mentioned his affiliation with Rak'kali, his hand rose to touch his cheek where the tale of the swirling mark began. "Yes, I have. I was given my mark from birth." Due to his mother's devoutness, or so he believed. Being recognized as a healer of his patron goddess was always something that cheered him up. There were many who could hate a stranger, but enjoy the friendship of a healer. When she stood up, he found it difficult not to glance her over. He may have been a devout healer, but he was still a man. The mark upon her hand caught his attention before he could embarrass her too much with his wandering gaze. "It seems you are marked too," he commented with a smile. "Human or Charoda, you've been found worthy to bear Her mark." His smile broadened at that. He was implying her worth being par with his own, despite her race or gender. Not that either bothered him. He enjoyed the feminine curves in many forms. Six armed, pale and slightly fish-like like the Konti, or full-blown sea borne like this woman. He had to focus not to allow his gaze to linger between her Mark and her eyes. Though he was clothed, Stitchens was not so bleak either. His lines were more defined by muscle. Bare and muscular arms, a thick neck and a squared jaw might give the appearance of a brawler, but the kind look on his face was clearly that of a healer. "Charoda are not bad anyway, if you are an example they are quite a beautiful race. Very... Majestic?" That sounded about right for the moment.

[Ariann]

She perked an aqualine brow, a look of surprise and perhaps astonishment crossing her lips as they parted slightly at his words, then closed sharply as her cheeks blued even more. "I thank you for your kind words, sir, but I am not what an average Charoda looks like. There are many more, many better looking, than I." She stated humbly, her words a soft mumble from her lips.

Even though she allowed her head to bow slightly in order to hide the flushing of her cheeks, her eyes still gazed up at his chest with a remarkable curiosity. Her gaze treaded upon his pectoral muscles, across his chest and then down his arms, each line and curve being watched with a slow dedication of interest. It was almost as if she was comparing the physique of the man's body to his worth as a healer, and her lips curled satisfactorily into a smile.

"I must say, in all my time of being here in Zeltiva, I have not seen anyone as... honed as you are." She said, fumbling the words about with sheepish accuracy, "Not even Ricky nor Ximal has your physique..." She blushed sharply at the thought of the two other men, bowing her head shamefully, "I apologize, I should not compare you to others... it is rude and distasteful." She mumbled, saddened with herself now.

[Stitchens Plint]

Her modesty was refreshing. He knew quite a few that would have taken the complement and ran with it, but she seemed quite humble. He had no comment on that topic, but instead he thought it over in silence. Unsure whether she was knowingly modest, or truly believed herself lesser in appearance than her kindred, he contemplated her emotional standpoint. "Honed?" He questioned, his gaze drifting down to his own frame. There were times he actually forgot the effects of his joy for physical exertion and the practice of a healthy life. "Oh, yes, well I am a bodybuilder as well. The experience with the muscular system and dietary needs comes in handy as a medic and healer alike." It did, honestly. Along with an understanding of bone and problems associated with gluttony and lethargy, he could have just as easily been a life coach. Perhaps at times he did both. Then she withdrew into a shell of self-loathing it seemed, chastising herself for what was at most an awkward statement. "I find it rude nor distasteful. As well, I have no quarrel with my vanity being prided once in a while." His smile broadened in a more obtuse acceptance of her complement. There were times to be modest, but for now she had taken that role. Instead, he'd be the outgoing force to try and bring her from that metaphorical shell of hers.

[Ariann]

She nodded, listening to him. Her frown faded and was slowly being replaced with a pleased smile, a humble one though. She took a step forward and placed a webbed hand against his chest, her head still bowed down in that ashamed manner. Her hand was cold and moist with water, but it seemed as though she was listening to his heart through the beatings it transferred into her palm.

She waited for a moment and then let her hand fall from his chest, clasping it back in front of her. "I am glad you do not find yourself offended by my words. Rak'keli has always told me that honesty and celebrity are two different things, and that choosing which to be will determine who I am to become." She stated, lifting her head to look at him with emerald eyes again. "And you seem humbled enough, for a man of your looks." She stated, the brazen comment turning her cheeks a light blue again, "Please don't read too far into that..." She stated, turning her head away again with a frown.

She could feel her chest fluttering slightly, the way it did around all appealing men. The way it did with Ricky and Ximal and other men she had run afoul of. It was a strange sensation, one akin to desperation and fear of the unknown. And it was truly unknown to her. The whims of the human race and the male pride of which they had was startling at times, and normally caught her off-guard. But what was worse was the lack of restraint and the honest acceptance that most men had. They tended to be more brash than contemplative, and tended to overlook things that should humble them.

But this man was different. His pulse did not fluctuate when he spoke to her, nor did he seem to cringe from sight of her. He seemed more contemplative than the rest of the men she'd known, and he was certainly good of heart to have earned the mark of Rak'keli upon his cheek. "My name is Ariannaliese Evisrel." She murmured finally, her contemplation done, "I'm a Charoda that has travelled far from my home to learn of your kind, the land-dwellers, human by name." She explained, "Might I ask what your name is? I would like the knowledge, if you would give it." She said, softly smiling as she turned her head back to look at him with a soft expression.

[Stitchens Plint]

It appears her shell was a delicate one. When she placed her hand on his chest he glanced down at the gesture. For a moment he seemed to question it, before he could feel the beat of his heart and assumed she too could feel it. The steady rhythm was pleasant and calm despite his earlier enjoyment of her nudity. Her next words brought a slight curl to that smile of his. "I mention I have a vain side and you suddenly complement me again?" He questioned with a cocked brow. "I shall turn a blind eye this time, but methinks you are either naturally awkward in an adorable way, or you are trying to charm your way with me." He spoke the latter as if she were trying to find out his trade secrets, or something along those lines. He did not mind her gesture once he realized what it was, or her awkwardness in conversation. She appeared innocent enough, and he had no reason to suspect it as a ruse, not with Rak'kali offering her mark to this woman. The thought of an unintentional arousal occurred to him, however he pushed that off as a vain and prideful thought brought about by her attention to his muscular physique. "My name is Stitchens Plint." He offered no story behind it for now, to allow her to hear the rather obtuse pun for herself. "And as a human myself, I would be honored to share what knowledge I possess, be it medical or - in an area I am less fluent in - cultural or historical." At this point he would have offered a hand shake in greeting, his hand even rose for it, but he hesitated. Did her race greet one another by shaking hands? Would it insult her if he offered a human greeting instead of one of her people? He had never thought of it before, but interracial meetings were quite a conundrum for one as ignorant as he to any beyond the land-dwellers...

[Ariann]

Her brow perked at the hand and her head tilted down so she could look at it. She remembered how Ricky had always greeted others with a smile and a handshake or a hug, but she wasn't quite sure which was appropriate. The charodian race normally greeted eachother with loud pitches from a distance before approaching, and that was that. But these humans were not of the water and such a loud pitch would sound gutteral and unkindly to his land-dweller ears.

She cleared her throat and approached him, wrapping her lithe and wet arms around his torso and laying her head on his chest like he had seen Ricky do with another girl before. She had thought it appropriate, because this is also what Ximal did with her. The beating of his heart was a calming sensation to her, but it was one that she could not bare to stand, for she might fall into a slumber.

Stepping back, she let her hands return to their original position, clasped in front of her like a maid-woman awaiting a chore to do. She eyed him with her emerald eyes again with a cat-like demeanor, a shy yet interested and curious expression on her fish-like face. "Stit..." She blinked, realizing the name was going to be difficult for her to pronounce with the 'tch' sound in the center of it. This sound was one the Charodian race had fumbles over, especially when it was in the center of a word. "Stiton... Stithen..." She frowned, thinking it over before drawing out the syllables one by one. "Sit... chance... Plint." She smiled, thinking she got it close enough. "Sitchance Plint!"

It would work, for now. "I would enjoy learning anything you have to offer. I know so little of the human culture, of the land-dwelling settlements and of the Tea'sh'ing schools you have..." She murmured, "The University has been a forboding place for me, though, and I cannot learn about it yet. I am not comfortable with going there." She informed him.

She felt a bit uncomfortable with most things it seemed. All but adapting to another custom's way, that is. She didn't seem to have a problem with generic physical contact or the ways of speaking manners, nor the delicate ways of cooking human foods. Well, she did have a bit of a problem with meat. Meat made her sick to her stomach. But all else, she enjoyed and embraced happily. And now that she had a man willing to teach her more, she could barely fathom what else she might grow comfortable with. "What knowledge can you offer me, Sitchance?"

[Stitchens Plint]

And then she was hugging him. Both brows rose in question. For a moment he thought about questioning it verbally, but thought better of it. Instead, Stitchens lowered his hands to rest at the curve of her back in a way he hoped would not feel either too friendly or too distant. The way she laid her head on his chest was odd, it was a lover's embrace she offered, or one of a cowering woman taking refuge in the arms of her savior. They were neither... Luckily he was freed before he began to really question her gesture. She then made the attempt to recreate his name. He found the way she struggled with it quite adorable. Instead of commenting on her inability to pronounce it, he offered another option. "You could call me Splinter, if you prefer." A pun of a pun variation of his own name, he thought it would be easy to pronounce to the foreign woman. Well, I know a bit about human anatomy and dietary needs... I have a bit of medical training and I work at the university as a Healer." And he makes a pretty decent living at it, partially because of his numerous skills and his social nature. He enjoyed her innocence, but could not fathom having such a secluded type personality himself. "But as far as customs goes, I generally pay little attention beyond work and an occasional trip to the tavern. Beyond Zeltiva I know about as much as you, I fear." Still, he offered a bright smile as a way to apologize at his own ignorance.