Rocky relations (Eoin)

[Rista]

31st of Summer, 511 AV

Steps echoed in the empty halls as she walked, the pace quick but without really having a destination in mind. The thoughts that rushed through her mind was chaotic, scattered like goats on a mountainside with neither path nor a secure place to cling to; an otherwise wonderful market day had turned into something else entirely, and despite what Eoin had said Rista couldn't stop blaming herself for it being ruined. If she hadn't gotten mad at such a slight slip of the tongue, if she hadn't lashed out and hit him, if she hadn't broken the gift he'd found for her, if.. If. By the gods, she hated that word. If's and but's would never get her anywhere, that much was certain.

Cradling her left shoulder with the opposite hand, the copper-skinned mongrel walked blindly through the warrens without really seeing where she was going. The muscles were swelling already, hurt by the hand that had fallen upon it and by the nails that had pressed into her skin, leaving furiously red half-moon prints behind. It served her right really, but it still hurt pretty bad even a day after the injury had been caused; her pain tolerance level had never been very high, and Eoin was much stronger than he looked at a first glance. She tried to figure out what he did for a living, but couldn't really pick anything out that went with his quiet demeanor and kind gaze. There were so many things that an Avora could do, and few besides the hunters and blacksmiths required any greater physical strength.

The girl blinked a little as something appeared before her, and didn't realize that she had stopped until she saw a door in front of her eyes. Where was she? Frowning the short-built yasi looked around, trying to orientate herself; oh, right. The baths. Might as well be a good choice, they were unlikely to hold all that many people today. It was market day after all, many would be free and probably milled about the Courtyard by now; later most would scatter about, visit Inclement Weather or the Dreaming Lady, doing their best to spend all their hard earned money on the few luxuries they could afford. The baths would be an excellent choice even; she lifted a hand and pushed the door open and stepped inside, the steamy air greeting her like a gentle caress as she stepped into the changing room.

Thinking without being aware that the thoughts were roaming around her head, her fingers acted mostly on their own, from habit and for no reason. Choosing a shelf for her clothes the girl stepped out of her shoes and placed them inside the stony storage space, then raised her hands - the left arm having slight troubles of lifting high enough - and began to loosen the many small braids she had tied the black and red hair into. It was a slow process, but it was just what she needed. Mindless labor, something to occupy herself with as she tried to sort out the feelings of guilt over having left the red-haired man behind on the Courtyard. He had been so angry, but even so the girl couldn't help but want to comfort him.. as if he was a small, fragile boy that didn't know how to handle the emotions within. She still couldn't believe the things he'd said. That he never would hit her, that it wasn't her fault, how he wanted to be her friend... All of them were strange, unfamiliar.

Like black snakes the locks of her hair were released and coiled down over the shoulders, touching the middle of her back at the longest. Thick and vibrant, the dark red highlights gleamed in dull ember hues as the locks took up the moisture of the air; after dealing with the braids the young woman untied the knot at the neck and pulled the vinati over her head, before allowing the bryda to fall from her rounded hips. Simply rolling the clothes into a bundle she tucked them into the shelf and began to walk, steps slowly carrying her towards the other opening, where the air was thick with steam and a slight echo gave away the large open space. Pulling a hand through the thick hair Rista breathed in the humid warmth and tried to relax; skipping the two first pools she headed for the salted one, not really thinking as she stepped out into the luke-warm water and dipping down under to let it soak her, before heading for a shelf with soap...

She hissed when the water began to sting in the wounds at the shoulder and quickly shot up on her feet again, the water only really reaching her waist. Reluctantly the girl spared a glance towards it, unwilling to acknowledge the existence of the pain. Five half-moon shaped marks had dug into the skin, red and sore; all of them had peeled away some skin, and three had actually begun to bleed a little, thus the stinging as the salty water got to them. Surrounding them was a reddening of the skin, suggesting that parts of the area was going to bruise... Really. What was that man doing for a living, to give him such strong hands? Granted that he had been furious and thus extra strong, it still didn't explain... But well, Rista was at least glad that he had decided not to hit her. It might have been better for him if he did, but now that she thought about it a bit more it was very likely that she would have been at the infirmary now if he had; such strength would have refurnished her face with no problem.

Voices suddenly coming from behind made the young woman tense, and she lowered her gaze involuntarily, keeping it to herself as a couple of young men and women around her own age came in from the changing room. Petch, she had hoped that they were too busy fooling around... "Aha!" one of them suddenly exclaimed as he caught sight of her, and inwardly the girl groaned. Not again.. She'd had skirmishes with this group before, and that blond boy in particular seemed to have something against her, especially after the trip they had made with Sairque Endal where Rista had been placed in charge.. He never tired of bullying her, and the girl was too small to really be able to put up much of a fight. She tried, oh that she did, but his tactics were so underhanded, and he always had people around him...

"Well what do we have here?" the boy said and smirked darkly as he came sassing towards her, followed by the three friends. He was tall for a yasi, almost six feet already with lots of muscles and decidedly good looks; the hair was pale, almost blond and caught the eye in a nice way along with clear blue eyes. "If it isn't our little favorite dog, Rista Black-eye! How come you're here at this hour, I thought dek didn't bathe until everyone else had left?"

She tried to ignore him and began to turn away, teeth gritting together at the insult; it was nothing new, she'd heard it all before, there was no need to pay attention to him. Not to the two boys that chuckled and looked at her with brazen, uncouth eyes, taking in what part of her that could be seen over the surface of the water, or the red-haired girl that twisted her mouth into a wry grimace, discontent with their apparent interest. Their entrance into the pool made the water ripple and wave, breaking against the damp skin of her belly; there was no need to pay attention to anything, she would just wash up and then leave; the desire to soak in the water was suddenly gone.

"Oh no, not so fast" the boy said as she turned away, and reached out a hand to grab at her shoulder. He caught the injured one in a rough grasp, and Rista couldn't contain a slight wince from pain; it made the blond young man laugh and only harden the grip even more. "You're in pain, mongrel? What, have you been tumbling with the dogs again, so you got bitten? You'd better wash that properly, so you don't catch any diseases. Here, let me help you.." He grabbed a soap with one hand and changed the grip of the other; Rista tried to shaker herself loose and aim a punch at his face with the other, but one of the other boys caught it and twisted it up on her back, making her unable to move. Ah, this again, eh? They never tired, it seemed... The fingers of the blond boy dug into her shoulder, nails tearing at the already existent marks to widen the gaps; pain seared through her mind, and as he began to drip soap lather into it, a furious whimper, mixed with pain and anger tore from her throat. The girl closed her eyes, struggling to bear with the pain, knowing fully well that no one would come to help her; she just had to endure it, until they tired or found something else to entertain themselves with.

[Eoin]

oocOh, I meant that if we continue on the same day, that it’d be in the last thread. (I believe that’s how the timestamping works.) Since this thread’s already been made, could we change the date to the 31st instead?

Raising his shoulder, Eoin wiped away a bead of sweat from his face, leaving a wet trail behind. It wasn’t like him to perspire so much, being as calm of mind as he was. Even so, the man was looking more dishevelled than he had ever been. It was merely a few stray hairs and moisture on his skin, but his actions were more rushed, his fingers less careful. Since market day, the Avora had been working diligently at this pace in an attempt to quell his anger, and it had worked to a certain degree. Distraction proved its worth when put to the ultimate test, namely the amount of work that Eoin took on for himself. Already he was cooking at almost twice the speed as usual, achieved through quicker preparation and multitasking. As dangerous as it could be, manning multiple stovetops of sizzling meat and vegetables, he had not lost his competency as an assistant chef and managed to remain unharmed thus far. Determination drove his body to the limit, and despite the sensation of tearing muscle and numbing fingers, he continued without hesitation. Nearby, Fenil worked at his usual pace, his eyes occasionally drifting over to Eoin. Concern gently marred his face, and after another chime or two, his curiosity drove him to find out why the other man was behaving so strangely. When he neared however, he changed his mind, knowing that the Avora would not tell a soul what he kept caged within. Instead, Fenil suggested that he visit the baths for a break, though a greater influence was the mention of the man’s sloppy work. Wishing to maintain the quality of his dishes, Eoin complied. However, he made a quick stop at the infirmary beforehand. Being as distracted as he was, he was missing his pouch of pinions, the small bag forgotten on his table. Thankfully, Micquel agreed to exchange the goods for the chef’s services, for a helping hand was of greater value to the barely staffed infirmary than the loss of a potion. Promising to volunteer his time, the Avora left with a bottle of essential oil, an astringent of witch hazel. When he arrived, Eoin followed the usual routine without much attention paid, his mind never wandering far from the kitchens. He did well in detracting himself from the memory of the market day, but just as he was placing his things in the locker, his gaze was caught on the glass bottle. In his blind rage, he had unintentionally hurt Rista despite his intentions, unable to fully control his erupting emotions. It was not a spectacular day by any means, but it was only made worse by his blunder. Slowly, the bottle was asphyxiated with each revisited recollection: her face twisted as she resisted pain, her eyes hoping for escape, the feel of her unblemished skin. It was all so fresh in his mind, tricking the man to believe that there was still a chance to return to a time past and correct his wrongs. Regretfully, logic prevailed, shattering the dream with ease. With a hardened expression, he placed the bottle onto the shelf, his thumbs digging into his Bryda as he began to undress, folding carefully to protect the cloth’s quality. Following the stretch of hallway, Eoin thought to quickly soak in the salt baths to remove the sweat and its scent, skipping the hotter baths for today. As he neared the bath’s entrance, he could hear a single male voice speaking, the tone malicious. The Avora quickened his pace upon hearing what he thought to be Rista’s name, though he was unsure considering his current state of mind. When the pool came into sight, he quickly scanned its surface for a small female, seeing only a line of males curving away from him. It was strange that there were no attendants around, perhaps preoccupied with other clients, but he doubted they would intervene in the matters of mere Yasis. The tallest boy spoke again, moving suddenly with his arm outstretched, leaving a window open. In that moment, Eoin could have sworn he saw a pair of dark eyes and hair tinted with crimson. He hesitated, not wishing to involve himself unnecessarily, and remained at the water’s edge for the moment. However, as the scene progressed, he found it increasingly difficult to stay uninvolved and blind to the daily struggles of others. Already, he was wading closer to the group of Yasis, if only to discern the identity of their victim. He wasn’t a hero, and he didn’t have to save everyone he came across, but could he stand idly by as these boys fed their malevolent desires? The man debated internally, still undecided up to the sound of an agonized whimper, the female’s pain choosing for him. Grabbing hold of the blonde boy’s shoulder, he pulled, causing the youth to stumble backwards and crash into the water. The others were still gleaming with excitement when Eoin reached for the boy pinning the victim’s arm, his grip tightening around the Yasi’s wrist, encouraging his fingers to release. Though he was not particularly muscular, his hands were stronger than most, strengthened by from lifting heavy pots of boiling liquid to grinding foods in a mortar and pestle. They were his best and only weapon and the moment, and even if he was against a few Yasis, they still outnumbered and thus, overpowered him. Eoin’s plan was to get in and get out, the best strategy he could come up for the time allotted. After a few seconds more, the boy released the girl’s struggling arm, but escape was not so easy. Another boy, younger than the others and probably eager to prove his worth, sent a punch straight to the Avora’s gut, and despite his tensed muscles, his body was inclined to double over. Eoin steadied himself however, rising from a half kneeling stance, ignoring the jolt of pain that began to spread through his core. Behind him, their leader slowly returned to his feet, running a hand through his drenched hair to reveal fiery, blue eyes. “So the mongrel has friends huh?” He spat, glaring at the bright haired man before him, knuckles at the ready. Shaking off his excitement, the youngest boy grabbed hold of Eoin’s other arm, while the last bystander helped in securing the man. Momentarily, he was held down by the Yasis, for though they lacked the height of their leader, they did not lack in youth and strength amplified by adrenaline. Standing barren at the baths, they lacked the clothing that defined their caste, only their ages, sex and strength mattered. Eoin was not about to reveal his status to gain authority over them, despite the current situation. This would be done fairly as it should be, his principles rooted deep. Preoccupied until then, the man looked up from his half-standing position to reveal the victim’s identity, his lips growing taut at the sight of Rista. Rather than feeling relief at having saved the girl – for the moment – Eoin was riled with concern. How much worse had he just made the situation, for himself and Rista, now that he had failed in his intervention?

[Rista]

oocSorry, didn't realize that was how you meant ^^ Changed the date, and also changed a few small things in my post to make it the following day.

In her struggle to resist the pain she didn't notice the arrival of the Avora until something made the hand around her arm loosen. It was really all she needed to defend herself; the soap made her shoulder slippery and as she twisted the boy lost the grip on her. The waist deep water made it hard to move, there wasn't as much force behind it as she would have liked as Rista shoved forward in an attempt to slam her shoulder into the chest of the red-blond boy, at the same time as someone pulled him backwards from behind. The blue-eyed offender seemed surprised by the unexpected aid and stumbled backwards into the water with Rista on top, water splashing eerywhere as she went below the surface. A sense of panic gripped her as her head came under water; a memory of not being able to breathe with no bottom under her feet floated to the surface, and made her struggle unnecessarily to get up. Kicking and clawing away from the boy, she came up hissing and spitting to get rid of the salt water, liquid rushing from her hair and shoulders; blinking furiously to get the salt out of the eyes she looked around, trying to find the source of the help.. It was unexpected, people rarely cared about the wrestling yasi, and even more so if she was involved. Which she usually was.

As her black gaze met with a pair of concerned moss-green eyes, the color of her cheeks reddened at first, only to pale away again as she took in the situation. Eoin. What in the name of rocks was he doing there, and.. But this wasn't really a time to think and be shocked over seeing the man again so soon. Her shoulder still stinging, Rista acted without thinking; caring little for her own safety she moved around and waded as fast as she could towards the overwhelmed man, her face grim as she took in how the boys ganged up on him. The events of the previous day was all but forgotten as the small girl closed in on one of the boys; this person had been nice to her, and she suspected that he was the one who had helped her free just now. There was no way she would just let these shyke-pecking vultures lay a hand on him, not if there was even the slightest of chances that she could help. The pale-haired yasi was on his feet again, not as bothered by the water as the much shorter Rista, and he seemed dead set on repaying his humiliation; perhaps she should have aimed at him, but it seemed more important to get her friend free at the moment...

Making use of the density water she bent her knees down and pushed herself up from the bottom of the pool, jumping high and wrapping the arms around the neck of the first person that held Eoin down, trying to jerk him out of balance or choke him enough to make him yield. The taller young man stumbled and made choking sound as her arms clung around his neck, water splashing all around in loud and blinding cascades; the fight was beginning to draw attention from other visitors, as few as they were. None seemed to notice that it was more than a bicker between youths though; Eoin's higher caste was well hidden by bare skin and the tallest of the boys. At a distance, he looked almost as young as the rest of them, and quite possibly even weaker. Even so, a few of the guards were slowly beginning to pull closer, trying to decide whether to put a stop of the gruff that was disturbing the other visitors...

The yasi girl that had accompanied the boys licker her lips and looked around nervously, seemingly trying to decide whether it would be best to leave or her help; after a while she called something to the leader that Rista didn't pick up in the midst of her own battle; her target tried to bend her arms away, cursing and wheezing to catch his breath.
Whatever it was though, it made the pale-haired one turn around and reply, annoyance clear in his voice. Were they trying to pull out? Deciding to give them a chance, the dark-haired girl let go of her opponent with a yank that brought him backwards into the water, slipped away from him and waded quickly to stand by Eoins side, her face dark and with a menacing look to the black eyes. Teeth bared in a snarl, she hoped he was able to deal with the other person that held him...

"Better leave now, before I change my mind" she growled at the young men, piercing the gaze of the girl with her own only to see her recoil; good. Finally she had some use of her freaky looking eyes.. "Do whatever the petch you want with me, but don't ever dare lay a hand on my friends!" It was a rather comical sight, to see the small, drenched girl stand so protectively at the side of the taller man. There was no mistaking her anger though, and once the boys had begun to hesitate on what to do, the fast talking of the other girl did the trick. Decidedly pissed and glaring they began to pull away, the water of the pool slowly calming as the battle died out; the copper-skinned young girl didn't take her eyes off them until they were out of the water. Only then did she look over to Eoin, face expressing gratitude and worry as she tried to see how he was faring.

"I'm sorry" she said with a voice that was slightly out of breath, the brows furrowing into a frown. "You didn't have to do that.. Are you okay?"

[Eoin]

With a leap, Rista had managed to cling on to the neck of one of the Yasis, the two bodies falling in unison. Partially free, Eoin was quick to struggle against his other captor, tossing the boy off his arm from a combination of surprise and strength. A sudden dip in the waters did little to stop the boy, who tried to throw a punch at the man’s turning body. This time however, Eoin was ready for the small youth, his body retreating in the opposite direction as his palm collided with the Yasi’s knuckles. “Don’t do this.” He warned, a firm, disciplinary gaze reflected in the boy’s own. He seemed to heed the Avora’s words, his arm slacking for a moment before the other joined in, another hit caught by the older male’s hand. Disappointed, Eoin held the two balled fists, dragging them to the boy’s side and pinned his wiggling arms together. Alone and trapped, the Yasi posed little threat, deflated by supposed abandonment from his friends and being having been captured at all. Meanwhile, the girl wrestled with her attacker, causing fireworks of water and thick waves across the pool’s surface. Fortunately, there were few visitors, but their patience was wearing thin with these youths, disturbing the brief period of peace in their otherwise busy days with their squabbles. Alongside the tall, fair haired youth, Eoin blended in perfectly with the Yasis, with none questioning his caste aside from the weary glances of the other female. Whatever had gone through her mind had ended with a call to their apparent leader, and reluctantly, the males began to retreat, circling their female friend as they slowly exited. Rista couldn’t help but to snap at the terrorizing youths, adding an additional warning, securing their hesitation in bullying her further. Having released the youth, Eoin now stood above the waters height, his eyes trained on the girl’s back in wait of her return. Even from this angle he could see the beginnings of swelling on her shoulder, a bruise gaining colour and lined with four, distinct crescents, each gave a trembling sparkle in the light from the salt’s reflection. When she faced him, the last mark was exposed, deeper and darker than the others. It seemed strange that she would ask about his well-being, when clearly, she was the one in greater pain. Nonetheless, Eoin appreciated her concern, though he found it misplaced. “I’m fine.” He answered, and for once, his gaze wandered from her bottomless eyes, tracing her neckline to arrive at the injury. “I should be apologizing. I’m sorry I hurt you.” His eyes flickered back to hers, concern deepening to a forest green. She assured him of her health, but Eoin was unconvinced as he stared at the wound he inflicted upon the innocent Yasi. Regret, guilt, shame, each began to reveal its intentions with time, splitting off from the plethora of emotions kept hidden to make themselves known. Eoin wished to examine the bruise himself, but was reluctant to even ask permission to do so, sure as he was of himself that she now harboured fear toward him. She may even allow him, but he had doubt that it would be entirely her choice, for his caste was given power over hers, obedience ingrained in their blood. The situation seemed eerily familiar to his and Vala's, having breached her defenses in initiating physical contact in trying to help with an injury. Would he be able to overcome his opposing emotions, this time sewn with aged seeds and rooted with deeper roots, in order to please his desire to repay and to help? For the time being, Eoin had no answer and simply kept quiet, his conflicted eyes speaking volumes in compensation. “Does this happen often?” Vaguely, he switched the subject, both out of curiosity and in an attempt to delay his decision. His tone was dosed with concern, but somehow remained unburdening in its frank delivery. Eoin almost completely dismissed the possibility of their friendship at this point, not wishing to build a relationship out of fear, unconfident that he was capable of treating Rista with the respect he believed she deserved. He was unaware of how intensely he had been looking at the Yasi’s naked form, and despite the fact that he was merely scrutinizing the wound, it was incriminating. Rumours spread easily, and though Inartans were not known for gossiping, they were an isolated group, able to pass information along with lightning speed. Though Eoin was often unfazed by the thoughts of others, aside from those he cared for, the man would be pained to know that others were thinking ill of Rista. No matter what they already believed about the Yasi and her mixed blood, he did not wish to contribute to it in any form.

[Rista]

The frown lingered on her face for a while as dark eyes scrutinized the red-haired man, not relenting until she had made sure that he actually meant what he said. A faint sigh of relief followed and the yasi seemed to relax a little, even smiling a bit as she looked back at Eoin. Her shoulder ached, the wounds stinging from the salt water and protested as she moved it; upon noticing that the Avora was looking at it, Rista lifted her right hand and cupped it around the injury as if to shield it from view.

His apology surprised the girl with the sincerity it was offered, and even more so because she really didn't see anything to forgive. Sure the shoulder was sore and yes, it had hurt at the time, but aside from the stinging of the water it wasn't too uncomfortable. It would heal soon, and the half-breed girl had been through far worse in her life. Her eyes lingered on his face for a moment, meeting the concerned green gaze; a strange feeling of warmth began to spread through her belly and threatened to lure a faint smile to her lips.

"There's nothing to forgive" she said and looked down at the rippling surface of the water, trying to hide her gratitude over the concern he showed. It was almost as if he was worried... But no, now she was just being silly. "You were angry, and understandably so. Not many would have resisted the offer the hit someone in that kind of situation. If anything, I should probably be grateful for being able to move today.."

The dark hair laid plastered against her head, soaked from the involuntary plunges. Strands hung in front of her face, the rest of the black-red hair coiling down the neck and shoulders in heavy locks; without the braids and the bundle at the neck she looked different from the confident, cocky and somewhat clumsy girl from the day before. Smaller perhaps, more vulnerable; now that there was no clothing in the way it became very apparent that her dark coppery skin-tone wasn't just a deep tan, but her true skin; there were only a faint line where her vinati usually ended, but it was hardly noticeable. Her eyes looked bigger and darker, the steam making her skin gleam with moisture; if she had been different before, then the young woman was decidedly exotic looking now.

Sensing that his eyes lingered on her still, Rista shifted a bit in the water, not sure if it was from a wish to cover herself or simply the burn of the salt. The lukewarm water was beginning to cool her down, but she didn't know if it was okay to suggest going to a warmer pool; licking her lips a bit uncertainly she tried to discern if Eoin was still angry at her, but couldn't really see anything... Her eyes slipped away and tried to glance down at the shoulder and see how much damage the yasi had done; the feeling of his nails digging in and tearing to open up the from the beginning small marks still echoed in the flesh and skin, and she wanted to see how deep it had become. It was hard to see properly though, the hair got in the way and she couldn't twist the head far enough.

She looked up from her struggle at his question, having to think for a bit before she understood what he was asking about. Upon realization, her arm fell down from the shoulder and an almost laconic expression crept over her face; a shrug was offered, and a slightly too carefree smile appeared on the lips.
"Sometimes" she said lightly. "Not as often now since I'm one of the oldest yasi still in the youth-section, but it happens from time to time. Usually it's only verbal; I've gotten pretty savvy at defending myself..." A slight tension came over her shoulders as she spoke, memories of fights and defeats parading over her face. Even as she tried to keep it hidden and to herself, the girl was unable to stop her emotions from showing on the face.

A quick glance was spared towards the taller man, not sure what he was aiming at while asking. He had gotten involved for some reason, gotten hurt because of her; she noticed something that seemed to be the reddening after a punch on his stomach, and felt anger seethe within her. They actually dared hit someone because he was connected to her, even if it was as brief as this. That was a mistake, and they should know it. No one messed with the people Rista liked; they were few and far in between, but she would do anything to help the people that gained her favor. And now they had managed to worsen her relation with this man even more; not only had she managed to make an utter fool of herself, she had also gotten him involved with her petty quarrels, to the point where he was injured.

"It's nothing to worry about" she tried and moved the shoulder a little. It was unclear exactly what she was hinting towards, the shoulder or the bullying, but it was at the very least obvious that she was trying to shrug it off as unimportant. "There's no big deal, I'll be able to take care of it, somehow.."

[Eoin]

He expected such an expression from Rista, one of forced acceptance and ease, normalcy evident in tone. Eoin could do nothing to change things, this was how it was, how she lived her life was of no concern of his. Keeping her safe however, was. Despite his lost hope at friendship, the Avora felt compelled in some sense to protect the Yasi, but he wasn’t sure how he could and if he could. She wasn’t weak, and had been able to handle herself thus far, so he could see nothing that Rista was lacking of which he could supply. He merely nodded, eyes reflecting hers, swallowing the truth as smoothly as the words flowed past her lips. He thought to mention Rista’s name to the other Avoras, encouraging them to give the young girl a second look and to reconsider her for an apprenticeship. Her interests were not forgotten, his memory as strong as his will, and so those he spoke with would not be wasting their time with a waiting rejection. Though Eoin socialized little, their community was small and many knew him by vague reputation, most generally pleasant and thus, his credibility was sound. Not wishing to offend Rista or give false hope, he kept this idea to himself. After failing in her attempt to check the wounds on her shoulder, Rista tried to move the joint unsuccessfully, stuttering in motion from the ache. Eoin assumed she meant the injury was of no concern, but clung to the idea nonetheless. He waded through the waters with a slow grace to his steps, his gaze trained on her wounds once more. As a sort of precursor to his actions, his eyes would trace the lines of her frame, reaching her jaw before a hand brushed her hair aside, reaching her shoulder before the gentle clasp of the hand did. Each gesture was slow and thoughtful, giving Rista enough time to anticipate his movements. He drifted near, his chin hovering just beside the top of her head, in order to take a closer look. It seemed forward for the quiet Avora, but he tossed aside previous fears with physical contact for this case, unsure if he could make an acceptable exception in others. This was primarily retribution, with remnants of concern. With a critical eye, the man peered into the wounds, assessing each healing tear of the skin with a healer’s patience. Eoin was not skilled in medicine, but read up on what he could in what little time he had to spare. Ironically, though the Yasis intended harm by literally rubbing salt in the wound, he knew from his shallow pool of knowledge that it had a sterilizing effect. With time, the injury would disappear, but the ache would continue to hinder Rista until then. In fact, it may even cause the Yasi to hurt herself if she were not careful while performing Bendis. Affirming his suspicions, Eoin released his hold before uttering a single, “Wait.” Before leaving Rista alone in the water. It would only be a chime before the Avora returned, a small object in hand, its identity obscured by strong fingers. The man entered the waters without a change to his expression, sensing little change in temperature. When he reached Rista, Eoin took her hand with a gentle grasp, placing the object in her hand. His fingers unravelled, moving away to reveal a short glass bottle filled with a light yellow liquid of slight weight. “Use this on your shoulder. It helps with swelling from bruises.” He met her eyes, detaching his other hand soon after. “Only a small amount is needed per application.” He advised, in hopes that Rista would find it useful in the future, should she encounter those Yasis, or his anger, once more.

[Rista]

Was it relief that passed over her face as he refrained from delving? The girl turned her face away quickly and made it hard to tell; the nod could have made her feel anything, it at least wasn't visible when the hair hung in front of her eyes like that. The fingers on one of the hands busied themselves with the edges of her hair, trying to sort out a knot that had appeared during the fight. She wanted to ignore the silence that followed after her words, wished to forget about the chill to her skin as the lukewarm water chilled her skin. It wasn't cold in the room, far from it, but Rista like it hot. More than once had she skipped the often crowded bath and taken refuge in the searing hot lakes that provided the city with water; many found them too warm, but she quite enjoyed the sting of the skin and the dizziness as the heat went to her head.

Feeling the ripple of water against her waist, the copper-skinned girl looked up and followed Eoin with her black gaze as he slowly came closer. Noticing how his eyes were fixed on her, her expression shifted swiftly; curiosity replaced a look of surprise, eyes widened in brief worry as his hand reached out towards her. The memory of pain from last time wouldn't go away, no matter how much she wished to chase it off; she liked this person, he was nice and interesting and she didn't want to be afraid of him trying to touch her... And she wasn't, right? Right? It felt like such a misplaced feeling, and yet it didn't keep her from flinching as his fingers brushed the hair away from the shoulder. Rista held her breath, phased by how close he was and over the light grip to her shoulder; like before it was warm and heavy, but this time.. No pain. No digging nails and no hint of anger on his face. In fact, the gentle grasp almost tickled and sent goosebumps down her arms. She didn't really want to react so strangely like this, her shoulder tensed on its own and there was a strange churn in her stomach as she glanced up at him, his face so close that she could feel the breath against her temple as he exhaled.

What was this? Her thoughts were slow and sticky like honey, they didn't function properly. Her body felt funny too, tingling and warm and... And then he was gone, and Rista found herself able to breathe again. Eyes wide and surprised she stared at the back of the man as he waded up from the water and left, her cheeks blushing and hot from.. what? She wasn't angry, she didn't have a fever, and she wasn't embarrassed. Why would she be blushing, it made no sense at all. Making sure to get her breathing in order again, the dark-haired girl lowered herself down so she sat on her knees; like that the water just barely avoided her nose, covering her frame in murky saltness. The sting of the wounds could be dealt with, it felt easier to handle than this confusing feeling. What had gotten into her? It was a question that kept spinning through her mind over and over again, and by the time Eoin came back, she still hadn't been able to find an answer.

She moved up on her feet again as the man stepped back into the waters, involuntarily feeling the color creep back to her cheeks again as she looked at him. It was a struggle to keep her eyes to herself - they wanted to run over his frame for some reason, and it felt rather rude to her - and as she let him take her hand, the touch to her skin made the girls breath catch again. She was a mess, and worst of all was that she had no idea why. It was just, Eoins presence felt both soothing and exciting all at once, and she didn't know how to deal with it.

Feeling a rounded shape being pressed into her palm by his hands, Rista looked down at it in curiosity; as the mans fingers unwrapped and revealed the bottle, her eyes widened and quickly darted up to look at the Avora, meeting his eyes as she heard what he was saying. For her? Really? A mixture of surprise and happiness slipped over her features, and once he let go of her hand she lifted the other and cupped the bottle carefully, making sure that it wouldn't risk slipping out of her grasp. She wouldn't risk dropping this one; there were limits to how clumsy she was allowed to be.

"Thank you" she said, the voice sounding a little overwhelmed. She never received gifts, and certainly not expensive ones.. this had to be quite valuable. It was ointment after all, and the glass bottle was nicely made, elegant in its simplicity. "I'll make sure to use it.. Thanks." The smile that broke out over her lips was bright and surprisingly warm as she looked at him, lit from deep within as happiness spread through her. Such a rare set of events, to first be helped and then receive a gift on top of that. The feeling of confusion was pushed to the back of her mind, she didn't want it to spoil this emotion she so rarely got to feel.

[Eoin]

Rista seemed to hesitate, her tone almost disbelieving as her fingers wrapped tightly around the bottle. Her smile came slowly, its glow lighting up her features, revealing the beauty of a girl’s happiness. Eoin rarely gave gifts to others aside from his kin, with most seeming more to be in retribution of his own mistakes than with the intent of bringing joy. Not to say he didn’t enjoy cheering others up, but the man was almost embarrassed to be seen with a thankful expression. Perhaps it was modesty, perhaps it was a sense of low self-worth, but Eoin did not feel deserving of their thanks. Thus, when the man saw the grateful look in Rista’s eyes, he felt inclined to turn away. Only the principle of respect kept his chest facing her, but his eyes were suddenly avoidant, looking slightly to the side. Generally, if he could help it, the Avora would try to give anonymously. Unfortunately, he knew next to nothing about the Yasi aside from her interests, and if he had known she were at the baths and the shelf she occupied, he’d simply leave the oil there. Then he would have saved himself from the current situation. Patience prolonged the silence, but Eoin was not accustomed to discomfort to prolong it much further, breaking the tranquil atmosphere with his movements. He moved closer to the nearby edge, sat and leaned his back against the wall, and began to gently rub his hands and arms. Should Rista speak before he, the man would finish his initial cleaning before returning her gaze in response. Otherwise, their section of the pool remained quiet until he finally spoke. “Your eyes.” He began, curiosity finally surfacing. “Who were your parents?” Eoin had kept the question for another time, but with no other matter to attend to, his mind naturally drifted back to that idea. The Avora tried to express understanding and kindness through his eyes, in hopes that should Rista take offense; she would see that he meant no harm by his words. “That is, if you want to share.” He wasn’t so stubborn as to not learn from his mistakes, knowing how sensitive the girl was toward certain topics. There had been too many occasions where he had offended the females of his city by doing the very same, and in a way, it was rather sad that it had taken so long for the man to change his ways. Eoin had seen many Inartas of mixed heritage and foreigners before, but none resembled Rista’s appearance in the slightest. Often when he did encounter outsiders, the man was compelled to engage in conversation despite his shortcomings and handling of the Common language. He knew the world outside of Wind Reach was much too treacherous for a mere assistant chef to ever venture into, the fear of its unknown dangers the greatest deterrent from exploration. To remain here in his birthplace, a cocoon of safety, to live and die, was all he asked of his life. Clearly, when the chance presented itself, Eoin was eager to learn of the fantastical sights of a place elsewhere, the people and their culture. One could almost say it was his frequent interaction with foreigners that warped the boy from a typical Inartan boy to a reserved man. He could recall with vivid clarity the voice of his caretaker in the nurseries, her sharp tone advising a younger Eoin to play with the boys, rather than speak with the grown aliens. What would he have been if he had followed her words? Perhaps he would have never done any of the things he regretted, or be in a relationship with a woman, the two of them planning to start a family together. The man shooed the thoughts away, sweeping the daydreams back under the rug to remain hidden, knowing very well they would continue to exist.

[Rista]

She sensed his withdrawal more than she saw it, and the smile faded a bit from her lips. Her happiness over the gift was still there, warming her from within but Rista recognized thaw awkward feeling when being thanked. She knew it, all too well because she was the same in may ways. Unable to believe in that her work could be worthy of anything, refusing to admit that she could have a worth beyond the one she gave herself. She felt grateful none the less, so it was with a sense of respect for his feelings rather than disappointment the girl turned away.

Moving slowly through the water with the bottle cupped in her hands, she placed it safely on the floor above the basin where it couldn't be knocked over and folded her hands on the stone edge, letting herself sink down into the water until her chin rested on top of the limbs. Smiling and moving the feet casually through the water, the dark-skinned girl hummed to herself as she traced the shape of the bottle with her eyes; it wasn't all that much to look at, but it was hers. He had given it to her, and she almost couldn't believe it even as she saw the flask standing there, right in front of her eyes. It was real, right? It wasn't just a mirage, an illusion shaped by her own mind.. She actually had to reach out a hand and touch it, follow the lines of the glass with a fingertip just to make sure...

His question broke the silence and pulled Rista up from her daydreams. The finger paused for a moment on its path, before the hand seemed to loose its strength and fell unhindered down onto the tiled floor. The girl closed her eyes, wondering if she should feel tired. How many times had she answered this question in her lifetime? How many times had it not been enough with the answer, since people still had to look an extra time to make sure they weren't imagining? It was a shame that most never saw anything amazing or beautiful as they looked at her. To many of the people in the city, especially those around her own age, her eyes were simply dark and frightening, mischievous and cunning as they couldn't tell whether she was looking at them or through them, or if she was looking at all.

Did she mind talking about it? Not really. It wasn't a secret in any way, and the way Eoin had asked was gentle. She didn't have to look at him to know it, she almost felt the hesitation in his question and the warmth of his gaze. With her eyes closed like this she could almost see the color of his eyes before her, see them deepening and warming up... She didn't really mind, but it didn't keep her from wishing it wasn't necessary. If her eyes had been the same as everyone else, green or blue or even golden, surrounded by white as was normal... She hadn't seen anyone with her kind of eyes either.

"I asked the same question when I was a small child" she said, the lids of her eyes opening to let her gaze at the gift as she spoke. "I had a twin brother, but we looked different from each other and different from everyone else, so while others weren't concerned about mothers and fathers, we were. One time after we had been teased by the other children, we decided to find out and went to the storyteller in the Enclave to ask; two dirty kids, black-eyed mongrels hand in hand that wanted to know where they came from... I don't know if it is the truth, but this is what he answered."

The girl turned around and raised her elbows up behind her, her face calm and a bit distant as she looked at the red-haired man. The back leaned against the wall, her hair flowing down into the water like black silk and hid away most of her curves with the soggy locks.

"Once, a man came to Wind Reach. He was a strange man, unlike any they had seen with eyes as black as a crows and with hair touched by the night itself. His skin looked like the red rocks and when he spoke, his words were different from ours; a stranger he was and a stranger he would remain.

"The man was a traveler, hailed from a distant desert land where the sun burned the ground and made it barren and dry, and he had left his people to see the wonders of the world. From the deserts of Ekytol he had wandered to the great cities of Sylira, north past the treacherous wilderness and west into the dense forests of Taldera. Many adventures he had faced, and many times he had been wounded.

"Wounded was he also the time he came to Wind Reach, and tired from the travel up the road. He stayed to rest for a season, trading skills and knowledge for healing and shelter, and stories of the world for food. He kept to himself most of the time, inquired and smiled and walked the warrens without naming his purpose. He was welcome, but no one seemed to understand him fully.

"Living in the mountain at the time was a woman also. She was beautiful with hairs like ripe cherries and kind, with a smile that wished harm on none. But as she was not among the wisest, her mind childish and younger than her years she lived among the dek and followed their ways. She aided the healers sometimes, as her presence soothed the ill.

"There they met, the two of them, and grew fond of another. The foreigner had patience with her gentle mind and what she thought we may not ever know, but soon they were inseparable..."

So far the voice of the yasi had taken on a slow and rhythmic tone, mimicking that of the storytellers as best as she could. She wasn't very skilled but the pace was soothing, enticing and captivating all the same.
She seemed to grow impatient however, and with a grimace she shifted an arm and pulled a strand of hair away from her face.

"This isn't a fairy tale though, and it doesn't have a pleasant ending like those usually do" she interrupted herself, almost roughly as the difference between her voice became apparent. "When fall came he had healed and took off, leaving her pregnant to fend for herself. The surviving half of the result stands in front of you. The storyteller said the man was a Chaktawe and that my mother was a dek, and that's all I know; I've never seen him and I can't remember her face. That's all there is to it."

Rista shrugged and made a wry movement with her mouth, something that probably should resemble a smile but lacked the cheerfulness from before.
"My brother died from an illness when he was five; he started coughing and couldn't seem to get any air, and nothing the healers did would help. I think one of them said the climate was too moist for his lungs or something similar. It's not something that can be cured though, and how could we ever leave Wind Reach? There was nothing to be done."

A shadow of old pain passed over her face as she remembered the face of her brother. She recalled it often nowadays, because she had found that it was beginning to fade. How his laughter had sounded, the softness of his hair and the gentle calm of his smile. Come to think of it... The mongrel tilted her head a little and let her eyes trace over Eoin, her mouth pouting thoughtfully. Yes, there was something. He was probably taller, and Karva's eyes had been almost as black as hers, but aside from that...
"You know, you're actually quite similar to my brother. He had black eyes with whites, but the hair is the same, and you both have that calm kindness to your personality." The smile she gave him was a bit embarrassed. It wasn't much of a similarity to be honest, but it didn't matter. It was just as pleasant to be around Eoin as it had been with Karva, and to her that was all that mattered.

"How about you? Do you have a family?" She felt that she had said too much, and the question that slipped from her was as much an action of defense as it was from curiosity. She did want to know, of course, but she probably wouldn't have asked normally.

[Eoin]

oocSince this is a summer thread, we could wrap it up in the next few posts if you'd like. Eoin should be getting back to the kitchens eventually, it just depends on what else you'd like to do in this thread .

When Rista began, her voice patient and pace appropriate, Eoin could sense the faraway feeling behind her words. Though she was not well versed in storytelling, her story was well told, the emotions coming naturally when speaking of a matter so close to the heart. With each phrase, the Avora could find similarities between their two lives, but was unsure if it was simply the longing for a bond that led him to those connections. He kept his eyes on her, observing the aging of her expression as the story progressed to from a soothing calm to a harsh sting, resentment and disdain clear in her voice. The moment that stood out to Eoin, was when Rista spoke of her brother, his illness and subsequent death. Though he was quite motionless before, the man tensed and grew rigid, and remained so until the Yasi mentionned the similarities between he and her brother. A thought came to him then, a pointless idea that overstayed its welcome. If only Rista looked more like Noelle, his sister, or spoke like her, or moved like her. Then perhaps they could find something more in each other that the other lacked. That the other needed. “My mother and sister.” Eoin replied automatically, in almost as much of a slip as Rista had done. The comfortable atmosphere she had created through her telling had undone him, if for the moment. It seemed easier to speak, or was it easier to mimic? Surely his life could not be much worse than hers, and that was true, it wasn’t. It was only those around him that did suffer. He kept his eyes fixed on hers, finding safety rather than discomfort at their bottomless appearance. Eoin had always been observant, and as a child, able to see the signs of a person’s intentions through their eyes alone. That ability caused more harm than good, and almost instinctively, he learned to ignore it all. Yet at times, he would forget himself and catch something he didn’t need to see or didn’t need to know, growing more withdrawn as a result. With Rista, it was all a mystery, one of very few that did not unnerve the Avora. If anything, he found her eyes beautiful in the way they cradled his fears. “My mother does not speak of my sire. All I know is that he shares my hair colour.” He continued without much difficulty, confounding himself at how easy this had become. Even so, Eoin found himself speaking vaguely on certain topics, leaving out names and certain specifics. “She was a skilled and passionate glassblower. She was also very charming and social. In many ways, she was gifted.” He paused to consider his words, though to Rista, it may seem as though he were taking a breather. For many, it was a strange sight to see the man speak so much on any one subject, especially when that topic was himself. A pause or a breather almost seemed necessary. “My birth was unwanted.” Though roundabout, the way Eoin spoke was in its own way it was more to the point. Any Inartan would be able to infer that his mother was the victim of a man’s most potent and dangerous weapon, there was no need to make that fact any clearer. “She grew ill. Her mind degraded and she fell from her caste.” His gaze sunk in confidence, but otherwise, his composure remained intact. The green of his eyes seemed to dull as he continued, a firm tone that edged on bitterness and regret. “She had another unwanted child.” He could see the reflection of a man in Rista’s eyes, but felt like a child directing his words to an absentminded adult. “This one she loved.” “She named her Noelle. She was my sister.” His lips were about to part, nervous in their position and anxious to speak more. However, Eoin gave pause, deciding to end his tale there. Though Rista had asked, it seemed like more of a tactic to distract than true curiosity. Familiar was he with these sort of responses, for his sister never did tell him a single thing herself, always expect him to find out for himself. They were her typical tools of the trade in pulling pull information from him and giving none in return.