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[Xavior Silhouette]

Spring 1st 515AV Xavior's nose flared at the scent of Sunberth. It was a smell that the Ethaefal could never grow used to. He sat at the entrance of the dilapidated temple, a cloth bag in front of him. The zith sat in the warmth of sunlight and savored it before clouds covered it once more. His job as a laborer for the Carver and Cutter brothers wasn't what he wanted to do. The pay was nice but the coin was hardly ever spent on himself, he preferred to just watch. Watch as time moved forward while he remained in the same space. He wanted to restore the temple but that was many years ago. But still he lingered on his own free will jobless but not broken. "Spare coin for a brighter future sir," he would call to someone as they passed. "Tsk, that never works," he thought to himself. "But I guess I'm just not up for asking for donation." Xavior flopped back onto the steps, wings laid flat as well without a care of the world around him. It was many anniversaries this season, the Valtarrian being one, the storm that had wracked the city only two years prior, and the birth of Evan's daughter. "I wonder how old she has gotten, she is going to grow into a beautiful woman," he continued to reflect. "The world keeps passing yet I'm in a stasis, exactly where I was when I began. I have no more influence than the roach crawling over my toes." He flicked his leg and sat upright once more. "Spare coin for a brighter future," he said again to those who were close enough to hear his growled voice. His ears swiveled as he listened to conversations in bits and pieces. He smiled, there seemed to be a lack of activity in the city. No not a lack of movement but a lack of the usual violence. "Its a nice day," he thought for the first time in years. He looked down at the pouch and frowned at the copper that sat within it. He heard a cough come from inside the temple. The winter had put a strain on everyone as illness ran rampant, especially among the less fortunate. "I'm not going to get any donations just sitting here," he thought to himself and soon stood. "Spare coin for a brighter future for my friends," he smiled at the thought and began to walk among the crowd bag held out in front of him.

[Jessor Yellowmoss]

Jessor's eyes wandered idly from side to side as she strolled through the city, taking in each piece of the landscape one at a time.

She observed a man, drunk and curled in an alley, likely to be robbed in a tick, if he hadn't been already. She saw birds, rats, and various stray animals running about, but she bothered not to catch the critters. She was off duty, and they were happy, so she saw no reason to bother them now. Likewise, she saw children running through the streets, not laughing or cheering, but rather, squealing and whispering about the calm that seemed to have settled over the roads of Sunberth. It was an unusually gentle day indeed.

It seemed to Jessor that the day would stay calm, and that she would have nothing exciting to do but go home and sleep in her tent until she heard the low, ominous grumble of a voice behind her. "Spare coin for a brighter future my friends."

Jessor whirled around, her hand flying out in a frenzied panic. Those around her were in danger of being hit, so wild was her outburst, though most had better reactions than that. Calming slightly, the still on-edge Drykas turned towards the voice, her eyes combing the crowds for someone who might match such a growl.

Then she saw him.

Wings outspread, long black hair covering his head, but doing nothing to hide the inky blackness of his eyes from view. Instinctively, Jessor's hands balled into fists, but then he spoke again and she slowly came to understand his words.

"Spare coin for a brighter future."

The fiery woman moved closer to him, eyes ablaze with a challenge, and she stuck out a hand to gesture to the creature. "Was that you that said that?"

Her arms crossed without so much as a conscious effort. "And why?"

[Xavior Silhouette]

Whether in fear or genuine kindness Xavior was able to garner a pebble and a fat, wad of saliva in his pouch. Deflated, the zith poured out the contents and salvaged the bit of coin he did have from the day so far. A flick of his hand cleared the coin of mucus and filth, the bits of copper palmed in his hands. He continued to beg wings folded closer to his body as a thick crowd passed him by. When they had moved along he again head toward the steps of the Temple. The castle commons was familiar along with the consistent faces that traveled through. Xavior recognized faces better than names, not that a name to the face was often given. An unfamiliar woman, hair as black as ebony, approached. He greeted Jessor with a smile and began to open his mouth. But when the woman’s tone had a hint of hostility, he remained quiet. The questions were forceful and the reason was obvious, perhaps not so obvious to some. Xavior regarded Jessor with a grunt and stepped to her side, gaze off to another group of people. “Hmm,” he thought to himself, “how troubling and interesting.” “Spare change for a brighter future?” He continued asking passers by and ignored the woman for the moment. He continued to think to himself, “well no use completely ignoring her.” “Who are you affiliated with, young stranger?” He said lowly to Jessor but raised his tone when he returned to beg.

[Kry]

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[Jessor Yellowmoss]

Jessor barely noticed those who stopped around her to listen in on the conversation. They might have gathered to see a fight, or to place bets should one break out. They might have gathered out of curiosity, for they had the same questions as she; Why would a man resort to such lowly begging? And why would a Zith be worthy of donations?

Whatever their intentions, there were a significant handful of people that gathered, and not a single one would meet Jessor's eyes when she looked about. Returning her eyes to the Zith, she listened intently as his low voice growled out the kindest words she had heard spoken to her all day. He merely asked her affiliation. He didn't move toward her in hostility, nor did he move at all. It could have been the crowd pressuring the Drykas to be soft, and she would blame it on the crowd should one ask, but the tone of the man's voice certainly didn't hurt anything.

"I don't have an affiliation." Jessor nearly whispered these words. They could get a girl in a lot of trouble- almost as much trouble as being affiliated with any single one of the bigger gangs in town. Especially if this Zith was a Night Eyes member, For all she knew, he was.
"I'm Jessor Yellowmoss." She continued louder, reaching for her pouch of Mizas and pulling out a silver. Jess dropped the silver into his still outstretched bag as a peace offering, then glared at the surrounding people.

Nothing to see here, she thought as she glared daggers at them. Move along.

Ledger :

- 1 SM for Donation

[Xavior Silhouette]

When he had returned to his post to begin to beg once more he noticed a young lady approach him without a word and dropped a bit of silver into his bag. Eyes looked into the bag and studied the piece. “Common silver,” he thought to himself, “at least I’ll be able to purchase a few meals with this donation.” Rusty, red, eyes looked at the fair skinned lady and after a small grunt, “thank you for your great generosity.” His sincerity felt truly genuine as a natural, warm, aurora seemed to surround the Zith. A result of his abilities altered his aurora unconsciously and generally made those around him to feel less of a threat. But his hypnotism’s natural suggestion was a double edged sword in Sunberth. Some mistook the aurora he projected to be a sign of weakness. His brow crooked when he heard another clatter in his pouch and looked over at Jessor. Bestial face flashed her a warm smile, “I’ll be honest. Didn’t expect that from either of you,” a deep chuckle, “but it is a pleasant and welcomed surprise.” He recalled what Jessor had said and hummed to himself. “If you hold no affiliation I’d be wary of whom you approach as you had.” He had said with caution, but during the sentence his brain began to control the thin dispersal of his Djed laced aurora. Jessor seemed to have noticed that those who passed by didn’t seem to take notice of her or the Zith. Those who had no charitable intentions or were to absorbed in themselves were his targets for the spell. The Djed drew the simple, emotional, suggestion of dismiss. That sensation one would feel when focused on a complex task, a tunnel vision train of thought. True his influence would not extend greater than his surroundings, but he didn’t need a reason to deploy such a veil. He played off the general mindset of Sunberthians, selfishness. The aurora around him had changed and it made the conversation nearly clandestine. The natural curiousness of the human mind swatted away with dismissal as the Zith began to talk more openly. He stepped out of the flow of traffic so not to disturb and break the suggestion thinly placed on those around them. "After all," Xavior thought to himself, "if you don't know you're looking for something, why would you know what that something is?" However, those who had donated would not be effected by this gradual change in force. His cast of hypnotism would not effect those more charitable simply due to the fact they already knew Xavior existed and was begging. There was no way to make people who already knew a fact simply forget that Xavior even existed in the present moment; at least not with a glance. He knew his hypnotism could not effect them without an extensive amount of time and expulsion of Djed. “Just a friendly, suggestion, is all. You never know if I’m actually a beggar or rather a mercenary who looks to enslave,” Xavior grinned in a malicious way, then returned to his hushed tone and relaxed expression, “though you are in luck as those are not my intentions!” “Jessor, that isn’t a name I’m familiar with,” his fingers finished with their task, “well that isn’t entirely true. I don’t remember names well, only faces. I don’t believe I’ve seen yours before,” he paused and turned his head back to the black haired woman. “Nor have I seen a Sunberthian wear their hair as yours. Why wear your hair like that?” He danced around the direct question of “where are you from,”he didn’t want to sound like an interrogation was in progress. At the back of his mind he wanted to ask Kry the same question, however he had nothing but time to learn more about the little lady. While he spoke he continued to back pedal until his heels touched the temple steps. He grunted as joints cracked when he sat back onto the worn and soiled steps.

[Jessor Yellowmoss]

Jessor shifted uncomfortably, placing her hands on her hips, then moving them back to cross over her chest. She still highly distrusted the Zith, but he had yet to show any hostility, and it had been several chimes at least since Jess had approached. So, the girl nodded and self-consciously tucked a loose hair back into her wild bun.

"The hair is a traditional Drykas style. It keeps my hair out of the way and makes it so there is nothing distracting me when I'm trying to run...or fight."

The words still held a bitter flavor, but in Jessor's mind, this Zith was lucky he hadn't been chased off yet, so she considered a few pointed words as kind as he would get.

"I was born in Endrykas," She continued, for that was really the information he wanted. "Still got the tattoos too, see?"

The Drykas proudly pulled up the sleeve of her shirt, revealing an intricate, black tattoo up the outside of her left arm. The black design twirled and danced in a mesmerizing manner, trailing onto her back in thin strips. After just a tick, the girl replaced her sleeve and turned back to face the Zith once more.

"But I know I ain't the only one who wasn't born here. There's plenty of travelers in town, so I don't thinkin' I stick out terribly." Jessor shrugged. "Like you, for instance. I doubt you grew up in Sunberth, yeah? Where ya from?" Her eyes scooped to his bag of few coins, then back up to meet his black eyes. "And what brought ya to this?"

[Xavior Silhouette]

The zith seemed at ease as he sat and looked Jessor. It was a vulnerable position to be seated in, but he didn’t fear too much. Arms rested on his knees as he listened to Jessor explain. He nodded and looked over her tattoos. “Drykas,” he thought to himself, “how interesting. Why would a horse rider be in Sunberth? I have a purpose, does that mean she might as well?” “Hmm what an interesting culture,” he said. “Elegant and rich,” a small smirk played across his lips. He leaned back against the stone steps, “you want to know more about me? What if I do not want to tell you a thing?” His eyes looked around as folks passed by, satisfied that their conversation hadn’t caused too much interest as folks passed. His Djed withdrew and returned to a neutral stance, his focus no longer focused to conceal but rather enhance the confident aura around him. But soon another idea manifested, “tell me why did you reveal so much about yourself?” He had said the words shortly before he began to focus his Djed to his voice. As he spoke his voice carried a subtle spell that would only work with Jessor and a hunch he ran with with. “I mean do you trust me?” The emotional focused suggestion rolled off his tongue and punctuated the word trust. “Don’t get me wrong, I trust you, you haven’t attacked me yet. I have no reason to feel you wish ill will on me,” he continued. Each key word and phrase, trust and ill will, were laced with his suggestion. The purpose of his Djed was an attempt to mend a rapport with Jessor and invoked the emotions attached when you truly trust someone like a family member. Ill will held the opposite of the word as well and attempted to dispel hostility toward him that Jessor may have felt. The casted words would blend with Jessors Djed and manifest as those emotions. These emotions would be the lightest of touches on her mind. Even the lightest breath could blow a paper off a table. Any gentle nudge that allowed Jessor to be more at ease with his presence would be a benefit. Though Djed alone wouldn’t be enough to gain trust, “but forgive me for talking nonsense. I am not from Sunberth, but of a place I’m sure you’ve never heard of before. It has no name but is a grand city much better than this city.”

[Jessor Yellowmoss]

"Better than Sunberth? Well I didn't know such a thing existed! " Joked the Drykas. A genuine smile crossed her lips for the first time that day. She was slowly feeling more and more connected to this lonely stranger, and their mutual hatred of Sunberth was enough for Jessor to dub him a friend.

The girl sat next to the Zith, still mildly cautious, but confident on the fact that he wouldn't hurt her without warning.
"I don't trust you, Zith. I trust you no more than anyone else in this godforsaken place. But it seems that we have somethings in common and that's enough for me to tolerate you. Besides, I always enjoy hearing a stranger's tale. Especially a beggar's."

Jessor undid her hair, letting the long clumps fall over her shoulder in a wild mess. She produced a comb from her bag and began to comb it nonchalantly to demonstrate her ease. In reality, the comb could be used as a weapon in a pinch, and Jess promised herself she would not be caught off-guard after expressing such comfort.

"So, Mysterious Mister, let's try this again. What's your story? Why're you here? Make something up if you must, but I came for a story and I'd like to hear a story."

[Xavior Silhouette]

A toothy smile drew across his mug when Jessor decided to join him on the steps. It would seem to him that the initial hostility had drifted off in the wind like dust. Inwardly he was pleased with himself, to allow someone into his company, something he had shielded himself from. The fall out of the Crimson Edge was an event that weighed heavily on his consideration of who he associated with. Luckily, that era had been blown to the wind like dust as well, the only problem for Xavior was that a single dust on a drought ridden land could lead to a dust storm that spells disaster. Xavior’s eyes wandered over at Jessor, hair let down, it accentuated her beauty perfectly. Though she was not what he prefered, a measure of one’s hair and its looks were a good indication of how well that person took care of themselves. Brow raised when he she explained her stance between themselves as well as her question of his background. “Why am I hear,” he asked himself, “that is a question I haven’t sorted out myself. Maybe I can tell her everything about myself?” He continued, to think and leaned forward to place his arms on his knees, “no that wouldn’t be wise.” “Well if you came for a story, I have many to tell. But if you want my story you’re going to have to trust that what I say next is only truth,” he looked over at Jessor and made sure to wait till he had made eye contact with her. “I am not a rapist, I do not wish any harm to anyone in my presence who haven’t given previous justification to do so. I am just a man who watches other men and women with curiosity that rivals a child’s. I am not someone to not pass on a moment for what beauty it holds even in the darkness.” As he spoke with a calm steadiness that was uncharacteristic for an actual Zith he began to allow his breaths not only carry his words but quiet his mind and body. He felt his pulse slow the more breaths he took in and relaxed his body. Focused on the basin of Djed held within himself and called on the power to begin to shift through him and focus on his eye sight. His gaze merely a focus of his Djed, much like that of a Glyph, and allowed his new suggestions to travel through the path of least resistance. As he spoke his suggestions grew more focused but remained abstract in their ideas to help Jessor’s mind in suspending disbelief that she herself had thought or invoked the emotions attached. While his lips moved a subconscious suggestion had begun to entwine lightly with Jessor, a whole different conversation began one that wasn’t audible and could only be seen by those with gifted sight. Shadow, a zith persona manifested within Xavior’s mind, spoke the words only an aurist could see. “You don’t know why, but this man doesn’t lie. His posture, his visual tells, they do not suggest anything hostile. You want to allow this creature to tell you more about himself, he may instruct you to do something that is questionable, but trust in that what he says and does will not cause harm to you.” Shadow continued to repeat variations of his suggestive speech and laced it with the Djed. ”If you want to hear my story, I find it is best to close your eyes to help you visualize why I am here begging on the streets. I will let you know where I came from, my origin, and show you sights that only a select few individuals know about.” Xavior flashed a bright smile, ”If you really want to hear my story, please close your eyes and relax. Or if you can’t bring yourself to yield control for a moment I can move along, there is quite a coin to be made today.” The inflection in his voice suggested a subtle hint of disappointment in the later of the options. oocIf any of this is confusing, please let me know and I’ll help out as best as I can.