42 SPRING 515 AV
• evening •
• evening •
Syna's face had disappeared behind the the tall gray walls of the fortress city some time ago and, just as She had turned in for the evening, so, too, had the Drykas. Instead of seeking her lonely little space at the Traveler's Row, she had sought out one of her more preferred spots, craving good company and drink to carry her through the last bells of her birthday.
The Herald's Arms was a welcoming place to her, warm and lush with its layers of plush textiles, smokey, spiced air and relaxed – if not overly friendly – patronage. She found her body instantly reacting to the environment within, the ambiance, the energy that it gave off and a noticeable sway came to her stride as her footsteps tried to match the flow of the low, hypnotic tune that greeted her, slipping smoothly through the din of voices like a snake through sand.
Her eyes moved to locate the source of the sound and found two men towards the back of the establishment, beyond the tables and chairs that dotted the middle of the ground floor. Ensconced in a corner, surrounded by revellers and cushions, the men drummed away at their instruments as another patron, sitting nearby, kept the beat with the clanking of his tankard against a low stool. Two women danced, willowy bodies swaying with the rhythm as a few on-lookers voiced their praise.
She found herself thinking of Endrykas again, how familiar this all felt. Maybe it was the way the percussionist were playing, the rate and the style, or the way the women swayed like stalks of tall grass, but it did something to her, made her feel a way that she hadn't felt in some time. Her old home had been at the forefront of her mind since she had visited the Bazaar and she found herself caught in the grip of a wave of homesickness. How long had it been? Only just over a year.. and it's not as if this is your first birthday spent away from your homeland. But it was the first spent outside the reaches of the web. She felt herself sink at this revelation, as if suddenly feeling incomplete. Would she ever return?
She hadn't realised how long she had been standing there, watching, lost in the sight and her thoughts until a big warm hand clasped her shoulder.
“C'mon then, you been staring at them long enough. Let's go join, ey? Can't let them have all the fun.”
She started out of her reverie as her wet brown eyes sought the owner of the hand that now dropped to seize her own. “I-I-” She was already moving, floating, body feeling light and strange, as if part of it remained in the space she had been standing, but she did not resist.
He was not necessarily a big man but he was certainly bigger than her, taller by half a hand and broader but not intimidatingly so. Judging by the way he held himself and the size of his shoulders, he was likely a labourer, possessing that sort of build, one bore from hard work rather than honed for a certain discipline. His hair fell limply just past his jawline, thin and stringy, and seemed like it could be blonde when clean. It wasn't until he turned to face her, drawing her close that she was able to get a look at his face. He had a long wide chin that gave way to soft jaw and she noted how the light played with the short, neat beard he wore, glinting off bits in such a way that she suddenly thought of the glass pendant at her neck. His face was narrow and nondescript but his most striking feature, by far, was his eyes. They were a pale blue and she found herself likening them to the sky when streaked by thin clouds.
Not bothered by the firmness in which he took her waist as he eased them into the motions, she welcomed it and his direction as he spun her round. Smiling broadly at the feel of it, the shift in her equilibrium and the way in which her skirt swung to exaggerate the movement, she laughed heartily and fully as she gently grasped the back of his neck with her left hand, her right finding his shoulder. Smiling, she remarked, “I do not think I ever be swept away like this before. Stolen from thoughts I was thinking.” There was a playful glint in her eye and, judging by her giddy tone, she was quite thrilled with the prospect, having usually been the one to initiate things due to her forward nature, not to mention he had swung her right out of the dark place she had nearly lost herself to. “What is your name, thief?” Her words were playful, spirited.
The Herald's Arms was a welcoming place to her, warm and lush with its layers of plush textiles, smokey, spiced air and relaxed – if not overly friendly – patronage. She found her body instantly reacting to the environment within, the ambiance, the energy that it gave off and a noticeable sway came to her stride as her footsteps tried to match the flow of the low, hypnotic tune that greeted her, slipping smoothly through the din of voices like a snake through sand.
Her eyes moved to locate the source of the sound and found two men towards the back of the establishment, beyond the tables and chairs that dotted the middle of the ground floor. Ensconced in a corner, surrounded by revellers and cushions, the men drummed away at their instruments as another patron, sitting nearby, kept the beat with the clanking of his tankard against a low stool. Two women danced, willowy bodies swaying with the rhythm as a few on-lookers voiced their praise.
She found herself thinking of Endrykas again, how familiar this all felt. Maybe it was the way the percussionist were playing, the rate and the style, or the way the women swayed like stalks of tall grass, but it did something to her, made her feel a way that she hadn't felt in some time. Her old home had been at the forefront of her mind since she had visited the Bazaar and she found herself caught in the grip of a wave of homesickness. How long had it been? Only just over a year.. and it's not as if this is your first birthday spent away from your homeland. But it was the first spent outside the reaches of the web. She felt herself sink at this revelation, as if suddenly feeling incomplete. Would she ever return?
She hadn't realised how long she had been standing there, watching, lost in the sight and her thoughts until a big warm hand clasped her shoulder.
“C'mon then, you been staring at them long enough. Let's go join, ey? Can't let them have all the fun.”
She started out of her reverie as her wet brown eyes sought the owner of the hand that now dropped to seize her own. “I-I-” She was already moving, floating, body feeling light and strange, as if part of it remained in the space she had been standing, but she did not resist.
He was not necessarily a big man but he was certainly bigger than her, taller by half a hand and broader but not intimidatingly so. Judging by the way he held himself and the size of his shoulders, he was likely a labourer, possessing that sort of build, one bore from hard work rather than honed for a certain discipline. His hair fell limply just past his jawline, thin and stringy, and seemed like it could be blonde when clean. It wasn't until he turned to face her, drawing her close that she was able to get a look at his face. He had a long wide chin that gave way to soft jaw and she noted how the light played with the short, neat beard he wore, glinting off bits in such a way that she suddenly thought of the glass pendant at her neck. His face was narrow and nondescript but his most striking feature, by far, was his eyes. They were a pale blue and she found herself likening them to the sky when streaked by thin clouds.
Not bothered by the firmness in which he took her waist as he eased them into the motions, she welcomed it and his direction as he spun her round. Smiling broadly at the feel of it, the shift in her equilibrium and the way in which her skirt swung to exaggerate the movement, she laughed heartily and fully as she gently grasped the back of his neck with her left hand, her right finding his shoulder. Smiling, she remarked, “I do not think I ever be swept away like this before. Stolen from thoughts I was thinking.” There was a playful glint in her eye and, judging by her giddy tone, she was quite thrilled with the prospect, having usually been the one to initiate things due to her forward nature, not to mention he had swung her right out of the dark place she had nearly lost herself to. “What is your name, thief?” Her words were playful, spirited.
Pavi • Grass-sign • Common • Tukant • Others |
