Open [SafeHaven Hostel] One of Us is Warm and Safe

[Ireth Telemnar]

Winter 11th, 513 A.V. She hadn't really noticed until now how drastically her every day schedule had changed to conform to Nykian regularity since coming here from Ravok. To put it simply, one did not go outside after dark in Nyka if one wished to preserve one's health and sanity. With all the peculiar creatures and phenomena that crawled out of the Aperture with the fall of each night, the Nykian folk had adapted to the circumstances with which they had been presented. Even now, Ireth found herself waking up with the sun and going to bed soon after nightfall. Sure there were people awake after the moon rose down in the lobby and the dining hall of the SafeHaven, but they were reserved and kept away from the curtain-covered windows, just as a precaution. And once night fell, it was near suicide to go outside after dark. The cold didn't help matters, but there had been strange occurrences going on in the city as well. Just the other day, the last day she'd been with Savio, some sort of an earthquake hit the city. And the lights, the city lights had glowed with an eerie crimson-blood colored sheen. It was late afternoon now. Ireth had been out in the city earlier. Just exploring, meeting people, attempting to stay out of trouble and out of the way of the monks, rampaging or not, for fear that any little thing she did might piss one off. So she kept to the markets and shops, places where there were craftspeople. They were the folk with whom she felt most comfortable. Them, and the fisherfolk, but it was a good deal colder down on the Nykian Docks with the sea spray and wind whipping in off of the Suvan Sea. At the moment though, Ire's mind was elsewhere. Early yesterday morning, her sweetheart had taken off to begin a self-challenge. He was to spend some nine days alone in a little room called the Hollow of Odraz. Something about finding himself, finding his inner being. She was worried about him. All sorts of fanatic thoughts and scenarios had been flying through her mind, and she was fighting herself to find her own inner peace. Nearly half a season together, and she already felt miserable knowing that she was going to be apart from him for more than a few days. At least before she hadn't a clue when she'd see him next, so she didn't fret about the length of the term. But, however childish it was, they'd never been apart for more than four days before. A glance out her window into the redding sun and Ireth wished Be safe Savio... And there was something else. Something that Ireth couldn't put her finger on, something important that she was supposed to remember... Try as she might, she couldn't recall. So Ire shook her head to clear of it of its bothersome faults, a habit she'd picked up somewhere. She dressed well, in her nicest tunic and breeches. This afternoon, she was fulfilling a request of Vysia's, the Hostel's monk keeper. The other day, Vysia had noted that the inn'sfolk wished to know about the flautist that played so well in their room on the second floor, the musician of course being Ireth. Ire'd knew that people would pause outside her door sometimes to listen in, but she hadn't known that they'd voiced their wonderings. And so, as the sun reddened in the sky, Ireth had confirmed that she would go down into the belly of the Hostel, into the dining hall, and play her pipe for those that would listen. Perhaps, she thought as she pulled her hair back into its signature braid that reached her waist, she'd make a bit of coin. If she was lucky.

[Ezekiel Tabbris]

It had been a very long day to be a monk in the order of Laat.

Ezekiel had never harbored illusions of grandeur regarding the brotherhood. He understood long before many of his peers that the job was exactly that: a job. Even more so, he understood it was also more than a job; it was a lifestyle. Still, no amount of preparation could have adequately readied him for that lifestyle. While it had been over a year, Ezekiel still found the life of a monk to be incredibly taxing. He was not a weak man, but he was certainly not among the strongest. Some days were, naturally, better than others in the sense of accomplishments and triumphs. Today, however, had been one frustration after the other.

It had begun with more damage control after the tremors and crimson lights. Ezekiel, along with many of the other brothers, had taken it as an ominous sign from the aperture, though, as was common, his beliefs regarding the meaning behind the omen were as many and strange as they were different from everyone else. Thus, he made little attempt to assuage the people of Nyka with kind words or assurances. Having little to no idea what the signs meant, Ezekiel found any one stating a definitive explanation deserved a verbal lashing. This precedent landed him in a long string of one-sided discussions, in which his temper snapping so many times over such similar circumstance eventually resulted in a sort of emotional exhaustion.

Over the course of the day, he had also been responsible for dealing with a particularly stubborn group of traders who had feigned ignorance about a certain disappearance of coin. They'd received a formal embargo upon their goods until they came clean, which even after the money was recovered, Ezekiel found no reason to let them continue doing business, which inevitably led to a physical dispute, which led to their swift departure from the harbor as well as several new bruises to add to his tired body. Still, he'd been doing the work of Laat since his induction, and that knowledge continued to allow him to carry himself strong and straight along his path.

Even so, as the sun had begun to lower in the sky, Ezekiel's weary body found his final assignment of the day to be a welcome one. He was to check in at the Safe Haven Hostel for a report on earnings for that past couple days, a routine procedure he found himself assigned to every now and then. While not one to hold most humans in places of respect, Ezekiel had a grudging sort of appreciation for the woman who ran the hostel, as he knew very well how difficult his order's weapon of choice was to wield.

As he pushed open the door to the hostel, he was surprised to be met with the sounds of a flute. Its tones were sweet, soothing; very unlike the rather stoic atmosphere of the hostel. Slipping inside, Ezekiel carefully shut the door behind him, rather enjoying the breathy music coming from a woman near the back wall, surrounded by the patrons of the hostel. Leaning back upon the wall, Ezekiel allowed himself a moment of peace, whispering words of thanks to Laat's graciousness for allowing him the privilege of enjoying a song or two from the young woman.

She was, strangely enough, a simple sort of beauty. In her very lack of outstanding physical qualities, she appeared the very epitome of a young, lovely woman. Her emotion dancing through the music of the flute held to her lips perhaps worked to enhance her peculiar allure, and Ezekiel found himself smiling at the very quaintness of it. This was the sort of person he had vowed to protect, a simple, average creature who knew only the grace of the City and its protectors. It was rare for Laat to allow him a glimpse into the life he might have had, a simple life. It was fleeting, however, as once the song had ended and those gathered began their applause, the spell was broken and the woman became just that: a woman, nothing more.

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Common
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[Ireth Telemnar]

Ireth was nervous, and this surprised her. As she walked down the creaky wooden stairs of the SafeHaven and pressed herself against the wall to allow an older woman passage, she found herself creating scenarios of what was about to happen in her head. Ire offered up a pathetic laugh. What was there to be nervous about? She'd performed in crowds bigger than this before. Sometimes there had to be two or three times a crowd this size on the Nitrozian Plaza in Ravok when she played at nights. But still, butterflies filled her stomach to the point of her being queasy. She entered the dining room and found Vysia bustling about with a couple of serving girls, providing an early dinner to the guests and patrons of the Hostel. The older monk's hair was beginning to come loose of its normally tight binds and her voice was irate when a drunkard began complaining about something or other. So Ire stood off to the side for a while, almost attempting to hide herself in the shadows. But it wasn't long before those falcon-sharp eyes of Vysia found Ireth's gaze. "What, ye just gonna hide girl? Either you came to play or ye didn't, make up yer mind." Ire smirked. She enjoyed Vysia's crankiness. It meant that she cared, Ireth knew, but it was funny how such grouchiness was affectionate. "I've come to play Vysia. Where would you like me?" The monk snapped her fingers at one of the serving girls. "Grab me a stool from the kitchen." The young woman did as she was bid, returning with a laden tray balanced carefully in one hand and a wooden bar stool clutched in the other. "Thank ye." Vysia then proceeded to place the stool in front of a wall, off to the side, seemingly at random until Ireth realized that not only was the afternoon light bouncing off of said wall but so was a lot of light from one of the candlelit chandeliers. It was perfect for performing. "Play for as long as ye want, though you might not expect to get too much money. A lot of these here folk are stingy. But ye never know I guess, maybe ye'll get lucky." "Thank you Vysia. I'll make you proud." The monk gaffed and returned to the kitchen, presumably to retrieve more of the sorry victuals to feed her customers. There weren't too many people in the dining room tonight, maybe a couple dozen or so. A group of men had pushed two tables together in the corner cattywompus to where Ireth sat, and their conversations alternated between arguments and laughter. A couple of families were there, children either looking cautious or hyper. A pair of girls, sisters perhaps, pointed at the flautist and whispered, their light green eyes wide with wonder. If there was one thing Ireth loved doing, it was to play for children. Her heart ached as she thought of her nieces and nephews back in Rhysol's city, and how she'd played for them often. With that in mind, Ire pressed the mouth of her flute to her lips. She needed to regulate her breath in a way that would allow her tune to be loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to overpower the room. Holding the wooden instrument with her thumbs, she kept all of her fingers above the holes they covered save the index and third fingers of her left hand. These fingers she pressed to their holes as she blew, creating a clear high note. In a seemingly random succession, each of her fingers found their way onto their respective holes, making the melody deepen. The conversations in the room lowered, though some didn't stop. Closing her eyes, Ire attempted to become comfortable with the attention. She allowed the tune to become an upbeat fishing song, her fingers rising and falling on the flute's holes in a fashion similar to waves beating upon a shore. Come the end of the song, Ireth allotted herself a deep breath and launched into a shanty, playing just before people felt the urge to clap. The gray wooden pigeon that perched upon her instrument danced to the tune, another simple melody courtesy of Ire's father. This one consisted of a lot of long, deep notes, the majority of which were achieved by holding all of the fingers on her right hand against their holes. Her mind was solely on the music, and the queasy feeling was lightening as long as she attempted to ignore it. The shanty came to an end and the busker pulled the flute from her lips, looking up into the crowd and smiling into their applause.