Closed Only Time Will Tell (Lance)

[Tazrae]

Timestamp: 11th of Fall, 523 A.V.

The day had dawned bright and moist. Dampness clung to everything, causing steam to rise as Syna’s light heated the cool jungle and liberated the night dew from the surface of everything where it clung and glittered like diamonds. Those diamonds shrank and vanished before her very eyes, turning to the actual breath of the wild. Taz could see it as she made her way to the Dovecote. The world breathed around her. The jungle was alive with sound, even as mist drifted around her feet and the mud everything grew into steamed, drying out in the fresh heat of the morning.

She was dressed casually. Her twins were with their aunt and their father. She had the Inn covered for a few days so she could spend some time at The Outpost trying to find what she was seeking. It was hard for her to put to words what that search was about. Taz was a Benshira raised apart from her culture, isolated, and not truly part of the bloodline she was born to. She had decided to make the trip to The Outpost to find a… teacher, a tutor… someone who was willing to not only teach her Shiber but about the culture. She had a good portion of her family in Syka now. Her twin sister was there, as too was her twin’s husband… but she was unwilling to ask them for help. She wanted her own lack somewhat concealed from them. She didn’t want their pity help or to even break up their reunion after so long apart.

Besides, things were awkward between Taz and her sister. She had, after all, given birth to her sister’s husband’s children. The twins weren’t her idea and certainly weren’t her fault. They were the result of a terrible situation where Nyle and Taz had been the victims of an ancient monster’s machinations. Despite all that, Taz was glad to have the babes. But she hadn’t quite figured out how Kami was reacting to the whole situation. Kami had welcomed the twins as her own when Taz would give them up. And Nyle was a good father. Kami couldn’t have children due to the actions of their grandfather who had lost his free will and his humanity to that same ancient monster that dwelled inside of him. Kami had been born with the gift of healing, something their grandfather frowned upon. He’d wanted a magic user. That was why he’d valued Taz so highly, and why her mother and father had hidden her away letting him believe Taz had died. Kami, raised and trained as a healer, was safe from his plotting and planning and had remained behind to grow up within their culture. Taz had been spirited away to Riverfall to be raised as an Innkeeper’s daughter. Thus separated, each hadn’t known about the other, until the day they’d met.

Syka had become something of an important destination to the Benshira. Taz had been told, by Xyna herself, that the desert was played out, its already limited resources all but gone. The tribes of Benshira in Eyktol fought over them like starving dogs fought over scraps. The tribes needed a new place to live, one that had room for all of them and the food and land they needed. Taz was needed, exactly where she was, to be a gatekeeper and a greeter of the lost and shattered people that were going to slowly come her way. But even as the Goddess had told her that, she knew she was woefully ill prepared for such a job. She couldn’t speak the language. She knew nothing of the culture. Her golden brown skin and her caramel curls spoke of her heritage, but she knew nothing of the Benshira. She’d have to learn and learn fast. The Outpost seemed like the only option.

Tazrae passed through the Dovecote, came out into the dry desert air, and took a breath that caused her to dry cough. She liked the wet of the jungle, with its moist air and its unique combination of green and growing meeting the salt of the sea. Here, there was nothing like that. Dry, empty, and taking its scent from the people that filled it… to Tazrae the outpost felt artificial.

She’d once passed through this gateway with Ialari, a Domineer. The woman had done something with a rune painted in Ialari’s blood on her forehead. For the time she wore that blood in that position, her third eye had opened and she’d seen The Outpost in the same way the Domineer Mage had seen it. The walls were not real. The stone was not real. The sky and the water and the booths all around them had not been real. They’d been scrolling spell work, glyphs even, of some sort of magic that painted everything with djed to seem real. The only real things in The Outpost had been the people, the goods, and the services they sold. The entire setting was artificial, a huge Divine Dominion that was subject to the Goddess’ whim. Time could move here however she wanted it too. She could collapse it at any time. She could expand it as well. Taz didn’t like being a bug in a Goddesses’ insect jar, clambering over a piece of cut grass like it was a real blade of vegetation.

Even now her skin crawled.

There were good things in The Outpost though. There were real trade goods, real people, and the exchange of knowledge. There were new experiences and places to go to get away from the reality of one’s life. Food was exquisite here, so too was the baths and the company that could be found or purchased. Tazrae hadn’t sampled everything The Outpost had to offer, but she tried to see new places and learn new things each time she visited.

If it was later in the day, Taz would have headed straight to the Wayward Minstrel. Razinor would probably be playing and she’d get to relax among her own kind. However, that venue tended to run late into the night and well into the wee morning hours. So right now, the patrons and employees would be sleeping off whatever the last nights activities had been. She’d head that way after sundown.

Until then, Taz decided to head to the spa for a long bath, maybe a trim for her hair and perhaps something could be done about her nails. Tazrae was lucky when she arrived at The Tranquility Spa. Luccia was available and didn’t mind giving her a trim, working on her nails, and then giving her a massage before she was sent to the baths. Taz needed it… especially the massage. There was only so much Luccia could do about her worker nails, but they were at least filed and looking less feral by the time the Sykian had gotten her hair trimmed and her unruly curls braided into one heavy weave plaited down the crown of her head to fall over one shoulder. The massage was well earned, and the Innkeeper was well able to relax in the deep warm waters of the spa.

Others had started trickling in as she soaked, wondering where first to look on her mission. Taz had sold her apartment here, so if her search lengthened, she’d have to grab some place to stay overnight. The young mage had no idea how long her search would take or even if The Outpost would hold what she searched for.

Benshira. She’d need to find them somewhere among the crowd. Sighing softly, Taz leaned back and closed her eyes. She was perched on the edge of one of the big communal tubs, resting on the seats that were carved beneath the waterline. The water felt divine.

Words: 1302

[Lance Windhelm]

11th of Fall, 523

The sun beamed through Lance's window and fell onto his face. He wasn't in the mood to live at the moment. Alcohol from the night before still flavored his teeth and tongue, and made his stomach twist and turn. He pulled the blanket over his head and tried to drag sleep back into his mind. Focusing on nothing but his breath, he was just there, struggling like this went on for an hour or so, till the sun was past his window and bothering some other unlucky soul further into the city.

Reluctantly Lance tossed the sheet off himself and sat up in bed. The variety of birds that liked to sing near the docks was apparent in the early mornings. Each had their own tone and tune, maybe to attract a lover, maybe to ward off an enemy, He wasn't sure, but whatever it was it seemed to help his head clear from the fog.

Lance stood up, pulled his hair back into a pony tail and tied it off as he went to take a long pull of water from his waterskin. The fluid could be felt as it ran all the way down to his belly. It reminded him how hungry he was, and how much food and thinking of food caused his stomach to twist even more. He would feel better after he ate something, he always did. After he finished getting dressed he collected his backpack he slowly made his way down the stairs and into the common area of The Drunken Fish.

The workers were still sweeping and cleaning up from the night before. Lance remembered it was one of the sailors birthdays. The whole crew seemed to be there last night, and, in the love only a crew could share, they made the man lead them in a song. The language was something Lance didn't recognize, but he thought the comradery shared by them all was a beautiful thing. He tried to sing a long, but instead got caught up in the fun of drinking and seeing who could out drink who. After a few shots of burning liquid and a couple pints of ale, the sailors had won. Lance remembered that he have them all a hug before he had gone to sleep.

A coin gave off a crimson shine from the ground as Lance went to sit at the bar, it was stuck in-between the floodboards and the bar. Lance plucked it out and gave it to the lady standing there, waiting for his order. "I think a sailor must have dropped this." Lance smiled. The lady took the coin and gazed at him. "The usual breakfast. Thank you." He said. Then took a seat and thought of the coin. It reminded him of an odd conversation that he overheard that night. One of the sailors was talking to another man at the bar. One mentioned something about a dovecote, how people were going in an just disappearing. They might come out a day or two later, but it boggled the mind. He mentioned in detail how to get there, but the other man didn't seem to believe him, maybe took it as idle drunk speak. But it sparked the curiosity in Lance. He was sober enough to have made the decision to go and investigate in the morning, no matter how he felt.

Once breakfast was served and his stomach stopped flipping around in circles Lance put on his armor, his sword, and his dagger, finished writing a passage in his journal and left to seek out this dovecote. He wasn't the best with a blade, but has found that they are better to have on then not, if anything it would scare off some of the lower level thugs from bothering you as you walked through the street. It didn't stop things from happening to you, but made the city just that much more barrable. Maybe they thought him a guard of some kind, or just an armed citizen. Whatever it was, it seems to keep him out of too many fights.

If it were true that there was something here, if it was a portal of some kind, and not just drunken babble, Lance thought of how much it would change his view of the world. If something like this was possible, what else was out there? Was magic a real thing? How would someone learn to wield it, could someone wield it? He's heard stories when he was home about wizards and witches, but those are only things you tell children to scare them into doing something or not, right?

After he made it to the destination he pushed the dovecotes doors open and walked it. Nothing seemed different, the outside hadn't changed. No magic, just birds and bird's droppings on the floor. The smell made him not want to linger. But he was remembering something, something about closing and opening. He looked at the open portals for the birds, then at the doors he had walked through. The only thing to close was the doors. Lance grabbed the handles, took a deep breath of the Sunberthian air, and closed the door. He held his breath for as long as he could. The smell knocked at his nostrils. He realized it probably wasn't actually that bad, the floor was pretty tidy, the smell caused his stomach to turn just enough that his mouth started to water and he started to feel nauseous.

Lance pushed the doors open, he couldn't take it any more. Heat smacked him in the face like a hot pan. When he took a deep breath of fresh air, dryness crept in and caused him to cough and dry heave. Taking another couple deep breaths, he re-oriented himself. Where had he gone? This wasn't Sunberth. People passed by him, dressed in so many different styles it was almost dizzying.

"Hello sir, my name is Paul. I see you have stumbled into a Dovecote, not to worry. You are quite safe here as long as you don't steal, don't enslave, and most importantly, don't hurt the cats or birds. Now, how the system works. You just walk into any dovecote around Mizahar, close the doors, maybe wait a moment or two, and...Welcome to the Outpost, your welcome to buy, sell, and trade, bring your friends, if you need any other information about the bazaar, I am here to help-" The man continued to go on as people past him. He must have been the greeter to this new place Lance had learned about.

Lance turned to the man, "Is there anywhere I can... um rest, and maybe freshen up?"
The man didn't hesitate, "Oh yes, Tranquility spa is just there. They offer a slue of services.-" Lance turned and started to walk down the cobblestone road.

It was a huge market place. Lance thought how there was a city in a city? How could this be? This changed everything, if you could walk into a dovecote and just be somewhere else, the possibilities were endless. The thought made Lance's stomach turn, he was starting to get a little nervous, maybe a little anxious. He wasn't prepared for the world to flip again.

He took a deep breath. But he was here and he'd make the most of it. He reasoned himself back into reality.

He walked into the spa and followed the ladies back to a private room, there they shamelessly undressed him, stowed his things, and washed him gently. He wasn't shy around ladies, especially beautiful ones. But giving up his weapons was something that Sunberth had made difficult. Once they were finished they welcomed him to the main bathing area. The steam filled the room and a pool of warm water sate in the center. Steam was what he needed. It reminded him of Sunberth, and the air off the ocean. He waded into the water and made his way across the pool. Lance found a spot next to a pretty lady and leaned back comfortably.

He was surprised he was thinking fondly of Sunberth. The place that had been tormenting him these last few months, now something to miss? He though how trials made people strong, and how, when they were over, they could be something fond to look back on. Was Sunberth just another fond memory? He was sure he had to go back sometime, walk back into that nightmarish place. But for now he let the warm water soak into his tired muscles and bones, and most importantly, ease his aggravated stomach. He had heard warm water would actually make his stomach worse, but it seemed that was just another tale told by his village healer, or everyone's body was different somehow.

"Ah. That is what the doctor ordered." He said as his stomach finally starting to rest a bit. Lance wasn't really in the mood to flirt, but he couldn't help but talk to the lady next to him. "Is this your first time at... um, The Outpost?" He tried to remember the cities name. His hair was lose now, long and pulled back to fall behind his shoulders as he rested his head. He didn't look at the woman, just pointing his words in her direction. She could have taken them or left. At the moment Lance didn't much care, his body was in complete relaxation mode, and he wasn't about to trade it for anything.

WC: 1578

[Tazrae]

Tazrae, for one, was glad the man that decided to take his leisure beside her in the communal tub was no flirt. She had no skill at it nor did The Innkeeper have an interest in such things. There was too much on her mind and no room in her heart for men. Most of them lived a life full of lies – lies they told themselves, lies they believed, and lies they lived. She actually appreciated the fact that he casually sent words her direction rather than openly addressed her as if feeling out the situation to see if it was one where two strangers could have a chat. It left her an out… to address him or not to address him. But it was a friendly and thoughtful gesture, and one she wouldn’t ignore.

“It’s actually not. I used to have an apartment here and spent part of my time living in this place so I could see someone routinely that didn’t live in my city.” She said thoughtfully. “I recently sold the apartment though. This place… isn’t as comfortable for me as it used to be.” She added, sitting up and opening her eyes. Tazrae turned to study the man thoughtfully. “I’m Tazrae. I’m from Syka… it’s a tiny place in the tropics of Falyndar that no one has ever heard of. East coast of Falyndar, west side of the Middle Suvan Sea… straight across the world from Riverfall as a ship sails.” She said, almost as if she anticipated his next question would be ‘Where is that?’ People from Syka visiting The Outpost got that a lot. “We are a new settlement. It’s been fun building a city from the ground up. I’m an Innkeeper there, though our Inn is nothing like the fancy Inn’s of cities elsewhere.” She added. Taz had the lyrical speech of someone who trilled their words just slightly, common in Riverfall and most of the Grassland Region. For all of that, she had the golden olive skin of a desert dwelling Benshira. Her tan ran deep and there were no lines on her skin denoting clothing while she was out in the sun.

“I used to be hugely uncomfortable in places like this. Mixed company, too much skin showing, and people struggling to make conversation… but since living in Syka, nothing really is a big deal anymore. Clothing is optional, especially in the summer when the humidity is high and the sun is sweltering. You just get to the point where you’ve seen one body and you’ve seen them all. And that little settlement is a melting pot of all types… from the studious, to those that practice weapons, to even mages walking openly around. You get used to a lot of things…” She added, offering him a friendly smile.

The woman had turquoise eyes the color of the warm Suvan waters and she used them to glance around assessing the crowd. There wasn’t much of one this time of day, with just a sparse scattering of people partaking of the spa’s services.

“What brings you to the spa and where are you coming from?” Tazrae asked, truly curious. “I came because I wanted to wash the jungle off me, get a haircut, and my nails seen too. Living practically in the wilds doesn’t often make you fit company for the general populace.” The woman added. She arched her back, an audible crack sounding, and sighed in contentment. “I could just soak here for a good bell or two.” She added.

“I first came here when I was trying to open my Inn. Syka, beings butted up against the jungle and Suvan Sea, had no cloth trade to speak of so I had to come here to get linens and things dish wear and cooking pans to outfit my Inn. I also was able to pick up things like glasswear and booze fairly easily. Now Syka has a lot of craftsman doing those things, so we are less dependent upon places like The Outpost to survive. We’ve discovered we have plants that produce fiber that’s ten times stronger than cotton but just as light… and others there have started brewing or doing craftsman work like throwing clay for plates, forging hinges, that kinda work. It’s interesting to see a little settlement grow up and come into its own.” She added.

“Now I just come here for the truly exotic or to find information.” She added, looking thoughtful.

“The Outpost used to be comfortable for me. But nowadays, I’ve learned more about it and have developed a healthy respect for the Gods and their ability to change their minds on a whim so I am way more cautious spending too much time here.” She added, wondering why she was telling this to the stranger. “Normal cities, for example, have a long history where someone settled them, more people moved to them, and they grow and age.” She licked her lips, a bit thoughtful, then added. “This one… isn’t like this. This is a space created by a Goddess’ whim. It exists and is utterly controlled by her moment-to-moment day to week to month to year needs. What happens if one day she doesn’t need The Outpost? Will it just disappear as soon as she decides its not needed? What happens to everyone that lives here? What happens to the visitors? This place is just a construct of her will. See what I mean?” She asked, curious if he was following her train of thought at all.

Words: 926

[Lance Windhelm]

Lance listened to her talk. His world was flipping, magical portals. New people, new places, the world wasn't as small as he thought it was, and it was far more interesting. Not to mention dangerous. Lance couldnt help but peek an eye open and look around, then at the lady next to him. A habit that was now hard to fight after being in Sunberth so long. Always on edge. He closed his eyes again and let the water do its work.

Lance let the lady talk. It was nice to hear someone friendly, he tried not to worry about what would happen if he wasn't looking. His clothes and belongings were elsewhere, and theft in The Outpost was frowned upon. He assumed murder was too. His mind went to why she would murder him, then snapped back to her talking, afraid to miss anything. He was always on the look out for new stories and new people, the ones that didn't want to hurt him were preferred.

Syka. He's heard stories of the place when he was younger and occasionally from sailors and traders that funneld through the hellhole that was Sunberth. It wasn't much of a city from what he heard before, but from what she says the place has grown a lot. He thought how he might fare in the tropics, thought of the humidity and then shrugged the thought off. Sweating and dying from heat exhaustion were not on the top of his must experience list. No, put him in a temperate climate any day, somewhere with all four seasons and he'd be happy. But the urge to travel and the need to fulfill his, "dangerous curiosity" might poke him north.

Lance made a mental note. "Syka, a place where clothing is optional." He thought about how that had evolved. Sure the heat played into it, and probably the poor status, and the sheer lack of supplies. Just because it's hot, doesn't mean one wants to be naked willingly. The sun is bound to punish the unprepared body with burns, and bugs were bound to spread illnesses that Lance had never seen nor could conceve. "That must be how you got that beautiful tan." He commented, the flirt just slipped out, but he didn't make the eye contact or have the tone of voice to really send it home. It was more of a statement, him pointing out a fact, or point to the obvious.

"You own an inn, that sounds... fun. What's it called?" Lance said, his eyes closed again. The idea of him owning anything other than the clothes on his back was a far off dream. An itch that he might want to scratch someday, but not any time soon. He was more likely to own a ship or run a caravan. But the God's would have to will that to happen, with his current income he was probably only going to make ends meet. That reminded him he needed to pick out a new wardrobe for work. Playing at The Scarlet Sanctum in his common clothes didn't cut it, Ruby might actually say something if he showed up like that again. Berate him for not sticking to the atmosphere or yell at him about not being able to pick up the nuances of the place, and he claims to be a bard, he could almost see her rollering her eyes. No, Lance couldn't let it happen, the next thing after the bath was to find some decent clothing.

He wasn't sure if the business life was for him. Running something like a ship, he'd have to keep track of the supplies, the workers, the wages, not to mention taking the risk to lose it all in a storm. He'd have to find the right things to sell and the right people that would buy. Though, he would have officers that ran a lot of the day to day, he'd just have to look over them. But if he didn't understand the subject well enough he could get swindle quite easily. Maybe there was someone who would take him on as a type of apprentice, show him the ropes, when it was time of course. Right now he was still getting his feet settled in the world, as well as one could hope to as a bard anyway. As long as there was a roof over his head, an ale in his hand, and food in his belly, he was confident he could peddle his music to anyone's ears. His stomach flipped again at the thought of ale.

"Mage. You mean someone who uses magic, like tricks, slight of hand and cards?" He asked. Opening his eyes and meeting hers. They were the most beautiful blue color he's ever seen, almost like the ocean. And her skin... Lance push the thought and focused on his question. If she was talking about magic, as in portals, and what not, he was definitely interested in where he might find these people, or even learn a thing or two. Who wouldn't? And why not? The power of the world at his fingertips, he could try and become the most renowned Bard in the world, and with no consequence? Lance indulged in his ignorance. The inate drive for everyone to know his name pushing the thoughts further and further. If she continued and clarified to what he expected his follow up question would be, "people learn these things in Syka?" That in itself might urge him to visit.

The thought of walking around a city of half dressed woman intrigued him. But he could see how it would get old after a while. It wasn't going to be like the Sanctum, surely. It wouldn't be like ladies would throw themselves at him. That would be a little much, even for one with his stamina for a party. Maybe they were like tribal people, Neanderthals and half naked children. But looking at her he was sure that wasn't the case either, unless she was the exception. His thoughts lingered a moment, then came back to the conversation.

"To be honest... I drank a little much last night. The sailors at The Drunken Fish had a birthday and I played music for em. Boy, and their homemade brew..." just the thought made Lance's stomach jump as a burp slip out. "Anyway, the water is helping." He said. "I've been staying in Sunberth. Though, once the season has past I might move on. Maybe head to Syka." He said jokingly. Though he did think about spending the next season aboard ship. He liked the salt air and the travel was something that spoke to his soul. Sailors were like brothers to him, kindred spirits. People that didn't really belong anywhere, that didn't truly have a home, though they might claim a peace of land, their place was at sea. There was something about that, that pulled Lance towards them.

WC: 1158

[Tazrae]

“Owning an Inn sounds crazy to me.” She confessed with a light chuckle. “But its so much more than that. I didn’t just move to Syka and purchase an Inn. I…” Tazrae paused then, thinking, and glanced over at him. “Syka was a place where there was nothing. It was chosen for its beauty and its beautiful beaches, access to the resources of the jungle… but there was nothing manmade there. I had to actually build an Inn… crazy huh?” She said, leaning forward and gathering up her hair up off her neck and sliding it to one side. There was a double image of a clef note raised like embossing on her skin on the back of her neck. It was a double mark of Rhaus. Taz ran her hands lightly over the mark, glanced at Lance, and offered him a grin.

“Everyone that moves to Syka has to build something to live in… or build a structure for a business. There are places to rent to stay short term, but homes… real homes… take manual labor. There are people to hire to help… but it’s the strangest thing to me. It feels good building something, watching a bare space turn into a business or a home.” She added, smiling. “It’s probably why places like this spa do a heck of a business with folks from Syka.” She said, glancing at her much better-looking nails. That was the first thing to go during Ranger assignments… nails suffered.

“My skin tone is usually half jungle mud… sometimes deliberate since the bugs bite hard.” She said with a laugh, making light of his compliment. Such things made her uncomfortable. “But seriously, I’m Benshira. Most of us are tanned due to generation after generation in the desert.” She added, wondering what specific branch of human he was, if he even knew. Most people didn’t have an idea of their family origins, despite being human. The vast majority of humans on Mizahar were just that… multiple mixes of a whole bunch of culture with no definitive culture. She wanted to ask him about his people? If he knew where he was from…

“You played?” She asked, curious then. “What instruments? I love good music myself. I’m learning a few myself… mandolin, violin, wooden flute. I sing mostly though.” She added. “Because we are so remote, everyone in the settlement gathers every ten days. We call them Tenday events. We share food, music, dancing…. Kind of do a headcount and make sure everyone is doing okay. News is exchanged and everyone catches up. I’ve been learning new music for it. And I cook for the potluck.” She added, offering him another smile.

“Sunberth huh? Doesn’t sound like you are from there though. Where was home before that?” She asked, curious. Taz had a long history and distaste for those of the world who considered themselves “sons of Sunberth”. She found them, all of them, lacking with a penchant for self-preservation above all else. It was different if Lance was just visiting. Taz stretched again, looking thoughtful. “Sunberth tends to mark the people that live there. They come in contact with violence, misery, and the ultimate sludge at the bottom of a barrel in terms of humanity's worst." Taz stated bluntly.

Thankfully he changed the subject. Magic? Yes, she could talk about that gratefully.

Taz lifted an eyebrow at Lance when he asked about ‘mages’ being slight of hand. She leaned back against the wall of the bathing pool and studied him. “You know what I am talking about. Mages. Real mages.” She said, lifting her hand out of the water, cupping her palm, and pulling djed from her core. She swiftly transmuted it to res, and the sparkling iridescent purple, orange, yellow and pink substance filled her palm. Tazrae’s djed was reminiscent of a sunset. She ignited it with a gentle toss of her hand, letting the small fireball dance across the water before it sank into the pools’ depth and was snuffed out of existence. “Syka is one of the only places mages are openly welcomed and encouraged. We police our own and we frankly need that power mages have to protect Syka. The knowledge of magic is openly shared there, cautiously of course, but shared nonetheless.” She added, watching him closely to judge his reaction.

He certainly would have one, she decided, as she waited to see what he would say. True Sunberther’s would strike to kill. Taz didn’t want to be around a true Sunberther so it was good to find out early on if Lance indeed was one of these people. And if he attacked, she could justify a defense case to Keiss who policed The Outpost. And so she waited, careful, quiet, and even a bit curious.

Words: 796

[Lance Windhelm]

Built it with her own hands. He couldn't judge, but he couldn't see it. Though, it could have been the water and how clean the women looked, she didn't come off like a miller or carpenter, at least not the ones he has seen. Water had a tendency to clean up the most rugged looking people. But once she explained it all, how her family was from the desert, and how dirty they usually look he tried to make a mental image. His eyes were open now, looking at the women as she spoke.

When she pulled her hair up Lance was actually surprised. He hadn't felt her. He must have been so preoccupied with the whole experience that his senses were thrown off, not to mention the hangover that was reeking havoc on his body. A fellow bard, marked by Rhaus. With that he showed her his mark on his right forearm, an imprinted black clef note.

"So, he's gotten to you too." He said. Lance couldn't help but trust the women just that much more. "I play a metal flute... and try to tell stories now and again, but I am still learning that art. I've found myself singing horribly to my audience, but they haven't docked my pay yet." He laughed.

He listened to the woman list off all the instruments she played. For a bard of her stature he wasn't surprised, but couldn't help being a little jealous. He's heard the violin played a couple times at The Scarlet Sanctum and thought it a beautiful instrument. He was certainly going to paying Syka a visit sometime. If anything just to spend more time with his new friend.

"Maybe I can just come to Syka with you from here?" He said. The thought of going back to Sunberth hung heavy on his heart, fear pulled at it. "You can teach me something I don't know about music." He said boldly, but there was a lot he didn't know about it. "Maybe even the violin." He continued. "I was raised in Zeltiva. And yes. Sunberth is, a dangerous and scaring place. I can't say I am the same person after staying there for as long as I have." he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He listened to her talk about mages and magic, and as she explained he opened his eyes just in time for her to summon a power he has never seen into the palm of her hand. His eyes widened. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be afraid or mystified, fear was the natural thing for things people didn't understand but Lance's, "Dangerous curiosity" poked its head through.

"Wow..." He said as the flame splashed into the pool on the other end. Lance pulled his hand out of the water and looked at his palm. "Can you show me how to do that?" He smiled nervously. Would it hurt? She didn't seem to be in any pain. She didn't seem any different afterwards. Maybe his assumptions were right, that it didn't have any consequences after all.

WC: 516

[Tazrae]

If Lance looked closely at Tazrae’s hands, he’d see multiple things. First, there was nothing soft about them. She had callouses upon callouses due to the work she did in Syka. First, she was a chef and wielded knives, mallets, and all sorts of cooking implements. Then, outside, she used a compound longbow, a machete called Sweet Refrain, and a bullwhip. She was no stranger to a hand axe, using one to chop wood and process chickens. Everyone in Syka worked. Everyone helped everyone. She might not have built The Protea Inn on her own, but she certainly had swung her fair share of hammers. She’d put all the decking up herself, since there’d been no one else to do it. That had been a learning curve all on its own.

She smiled at Lance’s turn of phrase where he said Rhaus had gotten to Tazrae too. “He kinda gets under your skin and doesn’t go away. I’ll tell you what though… I’ve learned a lot from him. For one thing, being a bard isn’t just traveling from place to place and singing or playing an instrument. Being a bard is gathering information, learning, listening. All the gifts our gnosis arks bring us point to that fact. We know how to hear and communicate things. We aren’t about entertainment, we are more about the subtle manipulation of groups of people, crowds, and the sharing of the information we have gathered.” She added, laughing slightly.

“Playing instruments is kind of a stretch for me. Anyone who knows me would laugh at my claims as a violinist or flutist. My voice is better than my playing for sure. And my violin playing leaves a lot to be desired, but I’m learning. I have my whole life to learn though. And I won’t hesitate to try a new instrument. Just because one doesn’t play it well doesn’t mean one shouldn’t play it.” She said, laughing slightly. “You might just not want to play it in a crowd the first few times until you get a better idea of what its all about.” She added. “But that also doesn’t mean bards are musicians. We aren’t all like that.” She said softly, shaking her head.

Their conversation flowed on and Taz shook her head sadly when he suggested following her back to Syka. “The magic of this place doesn’t work that way.” She said thoughtfully. “You have to go back to where you entered from. It’s one of the firm rules of this place. Where you entered from, you will emerge to. There’s no crossroads that flow through here, at least as far as I know.” Taz said softly, knowing it was something she’d run up against before. People were always trying to escape Sunberth. There were good and bad ways to do it. “You should look into a Wind Eagle as a way to move quickly around. The Inarta from Windreach trade all over with their giant eagles. Short, redheaded people… they aren’t hard to miss. They sometimes take passengers. You’d have to look into it.” She added softly, glad his plans in Sunberth weren’t long term. Most people didn’t last long term in that Gods’ forsaken place.

For some reason, when Lance went on to admit he was from Zeltiva, the information made Tazrae felt a lot better. Zeltiva was the home of sailors and shipwrights, a great deal of them noble people with good hardworking backgrounds. There were craftsman and artisans there. It was a good home for a bard or at least a place to be from. Sunberth was not. Sunberth had a toxicity and a uncanny ability to drain the hope from a person, to steal their will to live or to better themselves, and it instead filled them with despair that they could never ever shake.

He earned a grin at his ‘wow’ that made Taz shake her head. “That’s called Reimancy and its one of the more difficult magics to learn. Its also one of the most dangerous to be initiated into. We have this thing inside all of us.. a power. It flows through the world and is found in everything and everyone in the world. People have it the strongest, and those that have it the strongest of the strong… they can become mages. That substance is called Djed. If you have enough djed, you can be a mage, for sure. But being a Reimancer is a totally new level to that. We take our djed… our power… and we convert it into Res…” She said, lifting her hand, and cupping her palm. A pool of almost mist-like sunset sparkling material began to fill it and she tilted her hand and captured his hand with her free one, bringing it up and out of the water. She tipped the Res into his palm and let him play with it. One could call it almost like a sap or a solid mist, tingly and glittering. “To fuel the elements you can access as a Reimancer, you must be able to make Res. To make Res, you have to go through a ritual. A mage like me that is already able to make Res needs to put cuts all over your body.” Taz whispered, moving in front of him so he was pinned between her body and the wall of the huge pool. She leaned close to him, almost like she was going to kiss him, though she did not touch him. Her soft warm breath brushed off his face, her lips close to his as she spoke. The gesture was intimate, almost sexual, but what she said was not.

“We make those cuts - in your palms, in your legs, your feet, your chest, and we touch you – pushing our Res into your body like an invasion.” She whispered fiercely, almost feral in her speech. “We keep pushing it in you like a man invades a woman he can’t get enough of to gift her with a child. We kiss you, intimately, forcing Res down your throat and into your lungs. We fill you so full of Res that your djed reacts to it… and your djed either learns to become Res through that invasion, welcoming it and converting itself to make you a Reimancer….” She said softly, letting her words play out, letting the pause fill the space between them like only a Rhaus’ Marked could… before she finished the thought. “Or it kills you.” She said, her blue eyes meeting his a moment, the sincerity and honesty pooling in them. Then she pulled back, giving him space to breath and to process what she’d just said.

“But we can also look to see if you have djed in the first place and how big your djedpool is… we can tell if you’ll be a powerful mage or will struggle your whole life with it before you begin to even seek the magic. If you have a strong djedpools and you know it, others will be able to sense it, and you will be in danger from there on… because others always want what you have if you have it in enough quantities.” She added. “I would be willing to look, to show you as I look, but you’d have to accept the responsibility of knowing. And if you have none or very little, give up the interest of magic. But if you have a good deal, you need to promise to get trained. If you don’t, you won’t last long in the world.” She added, leaving the choice up to him.

The offer wasn’t about Reimancy. That was a long way down his road if he had the possibility of magic. But she was instead offering to tell him if he had what mages required to thrive… and that she could easily and harmlessly show him.

Words: 1310

[Lance Windhelm]

Lance listened intently as the woman spoke. Having such capabilities, and being a bard even. The world was flipped. He looked at is so differently now. Everything had changed in such a short time it was probably the water that helped keep him calm, otherwise he might have vomited by now. The alcohol taste had started to disappear from his teeth, and his stomach was all but forgotten about as his new friend flung a fire ball across the warm pool. She spoke about Rhaus and what she's learned of him, and learned of their mission. Boiling it down into a single word it would be to, "listen". He nodded as she spoke.

The words hit home. Ever since he was a young boy he wanted to change the world, or have some kind of impact. He wanted to be able to speak infront of a crowd or play a song and evoke in them the emotions that would get them through. It wouldn't matter the situation, there was always a silent moment that could have been spoken or sang into that might have changed everything for everyone. He wanted to be that voice. Marked by Rhaus he was practically called to it. It was true that bards didn't have to travel, or play an instrument, but he felt that calling deep in his bones, that it spoke to him specifically, might just be that, for him. It was something he enjoyed and cared for, but now that he had this new information, this, elaboration on his purpose, what would he do? Lance didn't share in her laugh. He smiled, and the thought almost ached.

His smile did turn to a laugh when she mentioned the instrument and her not playing.

"Being a singer though, that's impressive. A skill I'm still trying to work on myself. One day on stage, words just started to pop out of my mouth. No practice, no being alone. Just me and all the roughness of being new at it." He smiled. He was glad Ruby hadn't docked his pay for something like that. Luckily most of the clientele at The Scarlet Sanctum were not there for the music, but the men and ladies. Plus he wasn't bad with the flute, so he might have just got a warning and stopped trying to do what he didn't know. Focusing on the instrument was what he did best and was the actual reason he was hired anyway. "It was a miracle I didn't get fired." He exaggerated. "So I guess that's a, 'no' for violin lessons then. Eh. I'm sure we can find something to do when I visit."

As things moved on and magic became the subject Lance was almost sad at learning he had to go back to Sunberth. Deep down he felt that he knew this, somehow it wouldn't be that easy as walking into a dovecoat and walking out on some distant part of the world. If that was the case he was sure Sunberth would be empty. At the mention of eagles Lance's brow perked.

"I can find these eagle in Sunberth?" The idea would surprise him. Though the eagle wasn't necessarily a magical creature, large ones that people could ride seemed like a think a Sunberthian would try and kill, at least the person who rode such a thing. "Honestly, I was going to try a ship. I don't know how I feel about height anyway." He thought. Nothing in his childhood stood out, he doesn't remember being up high enough to be afraid. Sure a crows nest on a ship, but would that count? He quickly came to the silent conclusion that he might not actually be afraid of heights, and though birds would be the fastest way around, he looked forward to spending time on the ship. He had a little experience on board a vessel and growing up around them he considered it close to home. Not to mention sailors were great company. "But if you know of any ship captains that might frequent Sunberth, that might be a great bit of information." Lance said. His smile was genuine.

As the conversation moved to magic Lance held out his hand, and the woman began to explain what it was. "Res." Created from her "djed". Hoow djed was in everything and flowed in eveything. And how he could actually feel her Res in his hand as she poured. When he saw her calloused hand he got a glimps of what her life might have been like, the hard labor that painted her body. The Res tingled and looked almost like a sunrise in color, it felt sticky and misty at the same time. He wondered how she would light such a thing on fire, or what the technique was to form it into a fire ball.

When he had asked the woman to show him, maybe teach him something she swept around and got very close. So close he coul feel her breath. He was almost stunned. Things were moving faster than he'd though. He contemplated kissing her. Memories of his friends telling him when he was young, "never go one hundred percent of the way. Go eighty percent and let her make up the rest.". They tried to talk to him about thier skills with the ladies. Before he made a decision she started to speak low. About cutting into his body, allover it. How they would force this Res into him, and finally, how the process might actually kill him. The thought, and her seriousness frightened him. He quickly released that this might not be something to play with, that it was more serious than he had thought and he began to weigh the options.

Choosing to learn more about this power, if indeed he had the ability, was a dangerous endeavor. It could kill him, or worse. He wondered if people had lost arms or legs, what would have happened if that fire didn't ignite in her hand, but somehow traveled up her arm, was that possible? He fought the fear of the unknown. Just because it is dangerous doesn't mean he couldn't learn, but the question was, "is it worth the risk?" No one that didn't take risks would be remembered. Heros on the battle field, they took risks, and their names are eched into time. He nodded a slow nod.

"Please look." He pushed the words out of his mouth like molasses. Fear tinted them. It was almost a give me. What if he walked around with a huge pool of power he didn't know about, and someone stated to hunt him for it? He'd be clueless and dead. No he must know. He waited for the woman, and he hung on each word that followed. If he was normal, then he'd go about life as normal, and be known some other way. But if he wasn't, he'd have to make arrangements to learn and protect himself.

The conversation tinted the world in darkness. It wasn't just Sunberth that wanted to kill him, though it was a dangerous place. It was the world. The wilderness, the sea, the people. He desperately looked into himself for a beacon of hope, some ray of light that might show him the way forward.

"Rhaus please inspire my thoughts, give me a song, give me courage." He prayed to the only God he knew intimately.

WC: 1238

[Tazrae]

Tazrae studied the man before her, moving back slightly to take him in and absorb the whole picture. She didn’t have any idea what sort of journey he was on or what he was destined to do. All she knew was that Rhaus had noticed him enough to mark him, and for Taz that meant that to some extent Rhaus had laid his claim. She knew a little something about that. Before she’d offered to look, to see if he had the potential to be a mage… she’d said and done other things.

She’d shrugged off his comments about how it was impressive she was a singer. “Singing… violin… they are like anything else. You get out of them what you put into them. I think that applies for a lot in life…. be it who we are verses who we want to be or even who we call friends verses what we want out of friendships. Life is always a complex knot of what ifs and what could be verses what actually is. I’d like to think as Bards we tease apart the nuisances of the what ifs verses what is and manipulate reality into what we ourselves or even Rhaus would like to see exist. We start with ourselves then work outwards to friends, acquaintances, then finally larger groups like audiences or crowds. And we do that through sound… sound to evoke emotions. And we understand what sounds or manipulations by…..” She paused dramatically here, wanting him to if nothing else take this one little thing away with him.

“… by listening.” She said softly. “Bards listen with our ears, our eyes, and note all the little things – the signs and the signals. You probably do it already without even seeing it for what it is.j Taz added thoughtfully. “Most Bards do.” Taz said.

“It’s not a ‘no’ for violin lessons. It’s a ‘no’ for you learning violin from me. We could always learn together one of these days. Two pairs of eyes, ears, and a duo of brains is often better than one.” The young Innkeeper said, offering him a smile that was almost a mischievous grin. She had a violin, but no practical experience with one and there was certainly no one in Syka that could teach her. She could teach herself, but honestly someone who knew what they were doing would be better. She’d just been… ‘distracted’ for the last year… She’d acquired the violin less than a few seasons ago in reality, but as she had seen the world recently… it had been well over a year. The thought of such things brought an instant headache these days. So she tried to avoid such thoughts.

Time moved differently now. That was just… a new fact in her life.

Their talk drifted on and when the Wind Eagles came up, Taz shrugged. “I know so very little about them. I do know they drop by cities throughout Mizahar to trade from their home city.’ She chewed on the inside of her lip a moment… unable to recall the name of the mountain home of the huge eagles. “Wind March…. Wind Stretch… something like that. It’s far to the north and west I think.” Taz said softly, shaking her head at the fact she couldn’t remember. “I met an Inarta recently too. She’s staying at my Inn. She often talks about where she is from. Maybe I should take my own advice and listen closer.” She said thoughtfully, then gave herself a slight shake. “All I know is that they are huge. They come to Syka sometimes to trade as well. Multiple people and cargo can ride on them.” She said, grinning. “The first time I saw them I just stopped what I was doing and stared.” Taz added.

Then he asked about magic, and she lit up because it was actually one of her favorite topics. “You aren’t afraid of mages?” She asked, curiously tilting her head at him. Shifting again, she answered his question about Reimancy with rather brutal buntness, then pushed back away from him after offering him the handful of Res. “The Mage owns the Res… once it is produced, its just a matter of willing it to be something and it becomes that something. The amount and quality of the Res you can produce depends on your djed and your djedpools.” She stated, then grinned suddenly as she realized she was giving him a primer on Arcanology.

“Res becomes an extension of yourself, your will, and will obey what you desire it to do if you have skill enough to control it. This stuff only becomes dangerous when you try to do too much or overtax yourself. Mages call it Overgiving, and history is full of the results of that situation. All the stories of mages going crazy? Of them losing control? All of that is overgiving… and it's hugely dangerous. A little and you might get a small headache or have a nosebleed. A lot? You can lose your mind, your sense of self, or even your anchor in reality. That’s why careful training is always advised.” She said softly, then caught his gaze with her own as she studied his expression. She was trying to read him, as some people could read others, looking for fear or jest, trying to decide if he was serious.

But he was one of Rhaus’ own. He was her brother in the world, bound by the mark he bore. She was a hundred times more open with him about this than she would be with any other stranger… all because of his mark. Bards walked a thin line. They were the eyes and ears of one of the Gods. They were trained to perceive things that others missed. If this bard wanted to survive, especially someplace like Sunberth, he’d need all the knowledge he could get.

So when he said ‘Please Look’ she reached out and captured one of his hands in hers. She turned from him though, rather than pinning him against the marble of the tub, she settled beside him, her hand in his, fingers linked. Then, suddenly, he felt her. She was green and growing and wild, a thing with tooth and claws and scales in his mind. He felt her touch there lightly and felt her gather his awareness, his inner sight and dialog, into her own, surrounding him with her essence. For a moment, when they linked, he felt what it was like to run in the jungle – the verdant damp earth all around him and huge ancient growing things his… no her… playground – to be the young woman beside him.

Then, just like that, the glimpse was gone. In its place was a stoic solid presence, feminine and determined, that tasted of power and fierce emotion on the back of his tongue. Then, mysteriously, she was slipping into him – deeper and deeper – dragging his sense of self with her. He was no longer sitting in a luxurious public bath beside a woman. No, he was inside himself and sinking down slowly deeper and deeper. He could feel her care and concern as she took him with her, going far more slowly than she would have alone. They fell slowly but they fell deeply and suddenly, abruptly – as if she’d found what she was looking for – they stopped.

Power was all around him. He could feel it and he recognized it as… his. He knew it because he remembered the taste of it that he caught - like an exotic scent blown in on a far flung wind – when there were times of stress in his life and he needed something ‘extra’ to keep going. It surrounded them, like some secret internal ocean. There was so much power, so very much, and he could feel Tazrae’s surprise in the essence that was cradling him, guiding him, and in so many ways showing him.

She had no voice inside of him, no whisper in his ear or an echo of loud thoughts in his head. Instead, she was just silence surrounded by emotion. He could clearly sense her surprise, delight, and then concern. He could not read her thoughts, but he could feel what she was feeling. And in that moment, he could taste the pleasure of her satisfaction, of positive self-reinforcement … the exact type someone felt when they learned that something they suspected was in fact true.

Then she was gently prying his awareness away from the inner djedpools and leading him upwards and outwards, back to the man sitting in the marble tub beside the Sykan woman who claimed she was nothing but a simple Innkeeper.

They both opened their eyes together as Tazrae released his hand. She studied him with her warm turquoise water eyes and then quietly nodded. “You can be a mage, alright… and a powerful one at that. But you should start learning soon, if its something you want. Because with that djedpool… you are vulnerable. There’s something called a leecher in the world. And much like the leeches in a shallow pond, they can latch on to you and rather than drain blood they drain djed. If a man, even one that hasn’t become a mage yet, gets his djed drained… he can die.” Taz said softly, concern in her gaze.

“And if there’s one kind of mage I’d say was in Sunberth, I would first and foremost expect it to be a Leecher… or maybe a Spiritist… one that deals with the dead. Spiritists are handy sorts to have around. But Leechers… they can cause a great deal of mischief before someone realizes one’s been at work.” She said with a grimace. There were certain things Tazrae could tolerate, but someone leeching her djed off… was not one of them.

Taz sighed then, released the bard’s hand, and looked thoughtful. She’d let him ask questions if he wanted, and would even answer some patiently until she finally said: “I have enough energy for ten people today. Do you want to skip out of here, and go do something fun?” She asked, knowing that something fun for her might not be his idea of fun.

Words: 1705

[Lance Windhelm]

People learning new skills. A young man fighting in a sand pit, his teacher had taught him how to punch. Once the kid made a significant impact on the target, a bone in his hand crumpled and cracked. The story came to mind as Lance listen to the Taz. Though it poped in and popped out as quick as any thought, he was reminded that practice didn't make perfect, but perfect practice was were the gold was. Slow and controlled movements at first will beat anyone who rushed through the first stages of training to get to the final stage before he was ready. It was similar to her violin, he all too well understood the need for failure and patience, and practice. He was no master flutist and didn't claim to be. The hours he had trained on the instrument dwarf many other subjects and will continue to as long as his job was to play.

He listened to Taz reiterate her point. Lance nodded as a matter of factly. Learn to listen, so one could learn, so one can change things. He was following the thought to. He wondered how he was to manipulate small crouds. Playing the instrument he was able to create feelings in people that they themselves Maynor even understand. A song that is so sad a woman may cry, but when you ask her why the tears are flowing she might not be able to pin it down. It was the feeling of the artist or the composer that implanted those sad tones, those thoughts into her head from a far, across time even. Was he doing what they were supposed to do or was it supposed to be done on a larger scale? He shook his head metaphorically and reiterated her words again, it starts with him and with people that he is close to. He needed to start slow, practice his skills and get better at reading people, listening with his eyes, and, as she put it, just, "listening".

He was so caught up in wanting to be something more than himself that he was turning into the man that wanted to skip to the end. He felt embarrassed at the thought and his cheeks turned a slight red color.


"Your right." He nodded. "You said you've learned a lot from Rhaus. Have you seen him more than once, or are you meaning you've learned from, well... listening?" He asked. He longed to encounter him again. To show him the respect that was due. His last encounter may have been a little subdued by awe and the environment they were in.

Giant birds and riding on them to distant lands didn't appeal to him. He could see taking that route of travel if he was in a rush to get some place or leave some place. Sunberth as bad as it was - a thought popped into his mind - winter was coming. Traveling will get more difficult once it arrives. He's heard that it could double the amount of time spent on the road, and that didn't even include if something horrible happened on the way. He started to see how the eagles might be the safest bet as of now. Numbers and distance was not his specialty, he would later sit down and write it all out, after all, The Outpost existed. If the way was shut to him he could spend the winter into relative safety. It wouldn't be a good thing if the goddess decided to snuff it from existence, but that was one entity. In Sunberth he had to worry about a whole city trying to kill him. The reasoning seamed sound.

"I have never meet a mage... well till now. And you don't seem too frightening." He smiled curiously.

"So, you can turn it into anything you want? What about something like... a plank of wood, or a ball of flesh?" His mind bounced from one thing to another, he had more and more examples, each more odd then the other. He assumed it was true, 'anything' was the word, but logic told him it would all depend. What was the nature of the mage's concentration, how long did he have, and how much djed was he working with. It seemed like a big mathematical calculation that was waiting to be salved, but baffled Lance. And that was only if he understood what she was saying correctly. As she spoke he was starting to grasp just how dangerous it could be.

He remembered vague stories of mage's and how they might go mad but he didn't connect it to the use of magic. Lance thought it might have been age or circumstance that drove them. What she said made his stomach pull itself into a knot, but as frightening as it might be, it was equally frightening not to know how to control it. If he did have the ability, what if he lashed out on accident and hurt someone, was djed that malleable? If it was it was a wonder how Sunberth wasn't flattened by now.

Taz took his hand and sat next to him in the pool. He felt the whole moment was touched by a sentimentality that he didn't understand. He let her intertwine her fingers with his, and he searched for her eyes. Before he could find them his mind was filled with images. Wilderness - jungle - mud and dirt. It was as if he was looking through the eyes of a creature. Claws and scales flashed and glowed. He could feel her touching him, then everything seemed to be her and for a moment she was everything - no - he was there. His attention was being pulled and prodded, directed. Somehow they were linked.

A play ground with giant growing things, this wasn't his memory. It was gone.

He could almost taste her. Something he couldn't grasp sat in his throat. A strickly female presense was there. And emotion, violence and tenderness, the fierce love of a mother- he tried to understand. He was quickly pulled under, no, deeper into himself. Like a plunge into cold water but he couldn't feel his body gasp. She was taking him somewhere. When they stopped he could see streams of mist that filled a vast sapce around him. It reminded him of a calm ocean and then he could feel it. It was a familiar sensation, anger, love, hatred, and ease. Moments of stress that dotted his life when he had called, this was there with an answer. He was engulfed in it, the fleeting sent filled his nostrils and was gone as another sensation washed over him, surprised. Though, the emotions wasn't his, he could feel Taz, her happiness and concern over what she saw. Then he could feel her pulling away.

Before he knew it Lance was opening his eyes. They met Tazrae's and when she said he could be a mage he gave a half smile. Now that new knew all of this, he felt he needed to learn how to control it. But something told him his future was full of dangers he knew nothing of. Leeches and overgiving, overwhelming was more like it. His stomach flipped and he went a slight pale green. He leaned his head back in the pool and sat there for a moment, half in awe, half trying not to vomit in the clean water.

"Where would you suggest I learn? You've opened my eyes to a world I know practically thing about. Where do I start?" He said, head thrown back.

As she got up and headed to get dress he followed her, agreeing to come along, and wondered what sort of fun might be ahead of them. He was thinking dancing or drinking, but he's had enough of those. He'd settle for a walk and some water to drink. Not to mention he was still going to get some clothes for work.

WC: 1325