This Town With No Name (CLOSED)

[Meera]

Dated Winter 511AV Day 70 - Night time

"You know you are a pretty horse, my Strider?"
With sad eyes her horse allowed himself to be stabled. She took great care in washing the grime from the Green Sea off of him. Meera kept the loose hair in front of her eyes as she worked, refusing to brush back and expose her features. This upset her buckskin to no end.

"Shh, Darksand. You know I cannot." She whispered. Dark eyes darted under her falling braids for any listeners. Gently she brushed his mane, an inky black like night and stripped with his own Drykas ribbon of blood red.

"Forgive me, my tan and black. You have many tangles." His hair was wet and drying slowly, and before she attempted the large knot she pressed her lips gently to his long snout. His head bumped against hers to show his displeasure and he snorted against her face. Her dark blonde blew past her eyes, exposing her features. Quickly she grapppled at her braids and pulled them down, tugging her hair looser from its style.
"If I must clean, so must you, Meera." Her horse was upset at her appearance, she guessed by his interactions to say. She enjoyed imagining a voice for her horse. It was high pitched and feminine, which made it amusing from a swift stallion.
Gently, she lowered her head and brought her hand free from the brush to pat his nose.

"Now, did you want a braid like me, my Tan?" Another snort, which to any outsider, would not sound like a pleased noise.

She braided his hair close to his neck but loose enough to not hurt him. Wound with his thick strands of hair were two of her red Dykras ribbons to compliment his blood streak from her garment. His tail was a thick braid that hung heavy behind him. It swatted at her to further display his displeasure.
Meera fed him fresh oats and two carrots from her supply. Her tan was grumpy at being stabled but took solace in knowing Meera was just as disgruntled about having to camp for the night in Riverfall.

Meera sighed heavily.
"We are not meant for cities or towns, my black and tan. We are meant to see the skies as we sleep. Cannot see the moon and stars under a roof."

"Hey!" An Akalak yelled and distracted Meera. Promptly she tabled the horse brush and adjusted her hair and chemise.
"You know Common? Not good with Tukant."
"You pay for room now?"
"Yes. Yes. I pay. Is food open still?" Meera took to her satchel and fished out coin, selecting seven silver mizas for her meal and small room.
"Yes. Bar still open."
"Thank you."

Meera sighed in relief before gathering her things. Food was definitely on the docket for herself now that her tan was taken care of.

---

She surveyed her surroundings in the bar. It was crowded and loud with her brethren. She was poor at Tukant and hoped that though she wished no fellow Dykras would join her for fear of being discovered, that a Akalak would not join her for her lack of vocabulary.

She mused to herself as she selected an empty seat at the bar that however poor her grasp of the language, that speaking to anyone at all would at least improve her grasp at the language, if not find some means to cross the water.

[Aren]

For future referenceEvery thread has to be time stamped, example: 4th of Spring, 511 AV. Don't worry, you can do a thread that takes place on the 26th now, and then do one that takes place on the 4th tomorrow. The season does generally have to be the current season though (as well as the year) with the exception of flashbacks. Since, I believe, this thread is supposed to take place the same day you got to Riverfall, just put a date in your arrival thread (at the gates) and you should have the date for this. Okay, on with the show. Ah, the Kulkukan, the only tavern and inn in Riverfall, or at least, the only one worth mentioning. Aren had spent many an evening here drinking away bad memories, and, as he looked around now, he was glad that time had not dulled it's... charm. "Nys! You still tending this slophouse?" Aren greeted the barkeep, whom he knew from his time when he was a regular here, almost a half century ago. "Hey, watch what you call her, she's sensitive," Nys stroked the counter tenderly, almost like the building had feelings he was determined to protect. "What brings your ragged ass back here, anyway?" The barkeep inquired, as was the natural inclination of most barkeeps. "Just... felt the need to see the Falls again, I suppose. Anyways... what I need right now is the thickest ale you've got. Domestic, please. I don't think I could stand another glass of that flavorless human swill," Though he felt the annoyed gazes of the tavern's human employees fall upon him, Aren was desperate for a good, solid Akalak drink, and didn't much care. After his escapades with alcohol in Syliras, one could argue that it may have been the reason he found himself in Riverfall once again,though he would deny it vehemently. "Coming right up," Nys replied, as he proceeded to inspect his stock looking for something that matched his old acquaintance's specification. As Aren sat down in a nearby table, eyeing a fetching young Drykas as he did so, he took in a deep sigh, letting the comforts of home wash over him like the Bluevein, "Home IS where the best drinks are," he mumbled, almost inaudibly. As much as it pained him to admit it, his father was right about that, as he was most things. The girl Aren eyed was much too young for his tastes, but he had recently spent some time among the plains folk, and her presence piqued his interest.

[Meera]

The tavern on the third tier was as busy as its reputation claimed it to be and for that, Meera was grateful. She had remembered the tavern's reputation from her travels with Patros, and thought it the best place to go should she want to hide in plain sight, while completing her task of finding her way to the port and off to see with a Drykas strider. It would be hard not to spot the young girl, a tiny sprout of a thing, especially when she would be the only rider without her mark.

It was a damn good thing Meera was the strong and silent type. She wondered if she was more to her gender if she would have felt too involved in the world around her, too noticeable.

She felt tense in the building, far more used to open skies and gazebo-like structures. She couldn't trust things that weren't in open air. Meera gave a testing breath of the air in the tavern and frowned softly, the corners of her mouth pulling. The air tasted dank, despite the livelihood of its patrons. There was no reason, Meera found herself thinking, why the air shouldn't taste wet. The thunderous pounding of the waterfall was all but deafening to the young Drykas, and she had the courage to chuckle to herself as the jested with her thoughts behind the reasons the Drykas were normally so loud. Could it be that they had simply spent so much time here that they became partially deaf?

A woman pressed by her and Meera could scoot her high bar stool no closer to the bar then it already was. Could it be that Meera had a fear of tight spaces? Or was it the closed building that sat her teeth on edge?

In any case, when a bartender finally took notice of the silent sapling Meera grunted an order. Naturally, the bartender didn't speak in Pavi grunts and vague noises and was sympathetic enough to suggest a small meal, to which Meera only gave a curt nod.
The blonde actually liked the bartender. She was nice, and when Meera finally grew the courage to raise her head to analyze the woman, she found the bartender just as pretty.

Minutes later a glass of water was presented along with a small plate of vegetables. The cut of meat looked like an afterthought, mostly gristle and overcooked.
Meera sighed yet carved into her small plate regardless. At least the water was properly tasteless and for that, she was thankful.

[Aren]

"Tell me, young drykas... what takes you away from the Sea of Grass?" Nothing but personal curiosity, and a desire for conversation to go along with his drink, motivated Aren's question. He spoke in common, as he was not familiar with the drykas' native tongue, and which he knew most people would have some knowledge of. The relative gap between his table and her stool was mitigated by the odd hour at which they found themselves in the Kulk, meaning the place was relatively empty, allowing for ease of conversation even at a distance. "I hope it is not the loss of your clan... though I know it happens. If it is, however, you have my condolences," Aren had met a drykas who had lost his clan once before, and the young man seemed racked by feelings someone whose home was still intact could only guess at. The blue skinned warrior eyed the girl carefully, attempting to put his knowledge of her people to the test, yet found himself sorely lacking. She did not seem the talkative type, however, and Aren was consequently hesitant to attempt to elicit much conversation from her, lest he come off as an unwanted annoyance.

[Meera]

Meera had almost finished her small plate of food meant for the waste when he spoke. The bar had filtered out by then with the late hour calling most people to their rooms at the inn or at home. The man that spoke had sat behind her and Meera grew brave enough to turn her head a sliver to view him from the corner of her eye. An Akalak sat at the table, a thick mug of ale by his hand. His yellow eyes seemed to smile. Despite that she did not find comfort or trust in his face, merely more suspicion as to why he would inquire about her specifically. The bar was full --

Or perhaps not, Meera discovered. Facing the bartender or her food all night had made her oblivious to the dealings behind her. The thunderous waterfall clouded most of her hearing, too, and it was any wonder why she didn't sit against the room.

With her plate abandoned she thought it best to at least close the distance between the Akalak and herself. Should she need to defend herself, she could do so more stealthily by his side than across a bar room.

Gently she nudged the plate towards the bartender - the one she had grunted to earlier - and stepped off from her bar stool. The blonde collected her water half gone in its tall glass and took her seat at the Akalak's table, but across from him. She gave a small smile in greeting as she sat.

"Not drykas," she said in Common, and thick with the Drykas accent. "No ink drawn on skin." Meera rolled up her sleeves. Perhaps if she would convince the Akalak that she might be simply Human she might venture off this side of the world alive.
He had asked her another question, about the loss of her clan. How she understood him was not how she would have described it, but ultimately his assessment would be correct - she was alone. Meera would do anything and everything in her power to keep him from knowing that as long as she could.

She rolled down her sleeves but noticed her attempt was futile to keep him from knowing about her clan. Attached to her chemise was the intricate knot work of the Diamond clan - the clan raised to be mercenaries, assassins, warriors.

[Aren]

A fetching young human had just come around with his drink, when the drykas girl dared a glance back at Aren. The akalak raised his mug at the frightened looking thing, attempting to seem as amicable as possible, though likely without much success. After a few seconds, however, the drykas in question inched over to his table, and Aren was glad that the girl had not seen him as an annoyance, after all. At the mention that she was not, in fact, a drykas, Aren felt somewhat embarrassed at the notion that he had been so blatantly wrong, "Forgive me if I insulted. From your appearance I simp-" But, when the girl delved into the subject of her windmark, or lack thereof, he came to terms with her meaning. It was not that she was not drykas, but simply that she was not recognized as a full member of her society, or so he understood. "Don't worry, young one. I'm sure your strider will come along soon enough," The blue skinned akalak tried to reassure her with a friendly smile, though, truth be told, he was not entirely certain of his own words. As she fiddled with her attire, Aren noticed the peculiar artistry of her clothing. He knew, in passing, that the drykas liked to display their clan affiliation openly, but he was certainly not familiar enough with their markings to be able to identify a specific clan from such.

[Meera]

Her hand swirled the cool, clear liquid in its glass. Her eyes did not lift from the whirlpool she had created as he attempted to apologize. He had no reason to, but she wanted to slap the Akalak for pointing out that she had divulged too much about herself. She had simply elaborated in hopes he would be convinced she was not of her own race, but had failed. Lying had never been her strongest feature.

Meera couldn't discern whether he was sincere in the words he said, or condescending. The Drykas thought it was perhaps initially for the best that she assume he was being kind. After all, the Akalak was twice her size and likely a foot taller than she.

"Is funny," Meera said. Her mind told her to shut up, to quit talking, but he was being hospitable and she owed that to return the conversation. She had after all sat at his table, and she couldn't very well hide her heritage that well with her long sandy hair in intricate braids falling loose, a tan skin and thick accent. "I have Strider. Should have mark, but do not." Her right horse had shown up at the wrong time. Resentment was strong in her voice and she did not offer any explanation.

The girl took a swig of her cool water as though to wash the emotion out of her mouth. She rested the drink with a thud against the wood table and her thumb played with the condensation on the glass. She had yet to make eye contact with the Akalak. She should introduce herself.

"You learn about me. I no learn of you, Akalak." She spoke loudly to carry her voice over the waterfall, which had grown to a dull ooosh in her ears. Common may be a language she was relatively familiar with, but in no way was she fluent, and was it ever obvious now. She contorted her face in frustration at her words.

"I..." She tried again. "Stranger. You are stranger to me. Name?" It was a better attempt, but still far from perfect.

"I am called..." Should she offer her name? She had no particular want to do so, and would very much prefer to keep her name to herself. Names were powerful, but in Drykas custom it was common for one to change their name many times. Why shouldn't it be to protect her identity?
"Ysane." She pronounced it with a high ee emphasis and a short ah, making it Ee-san.

[Aren]

Truthfully, her reply regarding her windmark surprised him, "I-" Taken aback, for a moment, Aren briefly found himself at a loss for words, "I... didn't think that was possible." In the, admittedly short, time he had spent among the horse clans, he had neither seen nor heard the like. The girl seemed clearly dejected by the situation, so he could guess that this was not a common occurrence, and certainly not a desirable one. The golden eyed akalak laughed as she called him stranger, and asked for his name, "My name is Aren," he offered, without any further ado, "And I am pleased to meet you, Miss Ysane." Her hesitation at giving her own name hinted at something to Aren, but he was reticent to guess at what. The stigma she carried must have been great, so her caution might well have been warranted. He doubted that she needed to concern herself around him, but he couldn't simply tell her that, as that was not something you could trust from someone you had just met. "Tell me, if I may ask, what brings you to Riverfall?" Outcasts and exiles often found themselves drawn to the Akalak's city, especially females, because this generally was one of the few places that would freely take them in. "I don't suppose you're here to become somebody's wife?" Willing women were made especially comfortable, if that was their desire.

[Meera]

"Aren," she tested his name on her tongue, saying the sound slowly to roll the syllable in her mouth.

The young woman laughed heartily and the action soothed her. It felt like airing out dusty lungs, and after her laughter had settled she felt more at ease.

"Wife?" She questioned. "Could not dream." It was true, or so she thought. No man would want the sapling as a wife - she all but refused to sew or weave, understood little of magic other than theory. Due to her Ankal and First Wife's resentment of her, she had never thought to dream higher than what she was given. She would love a life long with battle and travel, not of sedentary and complacency. Should a man ever have a want of a wife like Meera, he would gladly find her receptive, but until that day she wouldn't bother to look.

"Born to fight. Born killer." How true. Her own mother, the original Meera, had died minutes after her birth. "I, sorry. Should say I was born a killer," she corrected.

His question - why she was in Riverfall - was difficult for her to answer and she let her brow knit in concern. She had little stored in her brain in the way of a prepared story, and she did not particularly wish to tell the truth to him.
"In Riverfall to adventure." It was close to the truth so she could not say it was necessarily a lie, but not full disclosure. "For adventure. Hopeful for water travel in morning, if I do not find adventure tonight." She took another swig of her water, finishing the glass with an satisfied sigh.
The glass neglected now, Meera brought her eyes to better examine Aren's face.

He of course was skinned in indigo colours, his eyes an eerie shade of gold as normal for his race. His chin was square and his jaw looked strong, just like the rest of his physique. Dark eyes caught the dark lips set into an easy sort of smile, wet with ale. Cheek were hollow compared to the structure of his eyes, cheekbones jutting from his skeleton. With the angles in his face he sure did not look undesireable, the skin against his frame was not taut or stretched to imply a lack of nuitrition. He was healthy, and certainly looked it.
Without noticing, she had brushed back the loose tendrils of wheat obscuring her visage. Aren would find vibrant pools of hazel underneath inky eyelashes that threatened to rest on her cheek with their length. Her complexion was fair and pale, but years of constant travel had tanned her. Even in Winter did she appear sun-kissed, and the messy nest of braids reflected that. Her youth was not immediately apparent by her face. Although travel had tanned her, it had also aged her in her dark eyes, along with a home life of sadness and resentment. A person twice her age peered at Aren then, concealed in her youthful frame. Her cheeks still retained extra flesh from her childhood, softening her features.

[Aren]

Aren was glad too see the young drykas laugh, and matched it with a smile. It was a welcome relief to see the conversation turned from it's somber mood. "I am sure you will make someone a fine wife, one day," Aren here, could be certain of what he spoke, if he was any judge. The moment she willingly took a seat at his table, she proved that she was a cut above the common human rabble, which was more inclined to flee at his approach. As the girl, who had called herself Ysene, relayed the tragedy of her birth, Aren couldn't help but sympathize. Although he had not quite killed his mother during his birth, he had gotten awful close, and she bore the trauma upon her body to her dying day. As a boy, sometimes he could not help but look at his mother with guilt in his eyes, for he knew that he had hurt that which she treasured most: her vanity. She would smack him every time she caught that look, however, helping Aren to realize that she truly loved him, above all other things. The memories of his mother were more than a half-century old, yet they still stung like yesteryear, and the akalak did not wish to relieve them at this particular moment, "I understand," so he sought to end the discussion on the topic at that, and preferred to move on to more jovial subjects. Fortunately, his companion was quick to do the same. "It's awful late to be looking for adventure, don't ya think?" Aren sat back in his chair, as Ysane's inspection of him made him realize that she did not seem quite as young as he had though, just a moment earlier. As he looked into her auburn colored eyes, as he noticed the sunlight on her skin, he found untoward thoughts were creeping into his mind at an alarming rate, leading him to believe that he may have quite severely misjudged her age. It was hard to tell with humans sometimes, as they could look much younger than they are, or seem older than was the case.