[Kulkukan Tavern] Back in This Place - Aren [CLOSED]

[Meera]

"Yes, Ankal. Means... not father, uhm," Meera thought about her words, and less about what she was really talking about. "Means... Leader. Old man, with wisdom? Oh!" She exclaimed, her fuzzy brain remembering. "Elder. Elder may not know we live."

Her eyes suddenly narrowed in her focusing at Aren's meaning.
"Who is they? What you mean? Is me, and horse, and Patros." It took her a moment to realize that she hadn't spoken Patros' name and she shook her hair out to ring her bell.
"Patros is... old man, like father, but not. Not related. Elder want me to marry old man that became father. No... Not make sense. Patros was like Elder. He taught me to fight, to ride. We travel all year since I could um..." Again she struggled with words. She took a glass of water as though to rinse out the Pavi, to bring in the Common word.

"Ever since I could mount stallion." She flashed a toothy smile.

[Aren]

Things were coming into focus now. Meera had been forced to flee from her people, lest she be forced to marry someone she did not wish to. Aren was certain that her lack of windmark, which she should apparently have had, probably played a part in her electing to leave the drykas behind. This "Patros" which she called elder, just as she referred to the Ankal, might have been a previous leader of her clan. Perhaps he took pity on her for whatever it was she had suffered to be denied her windmark. Or, maybe he had suffered a similar dishonor and had also found himself in disfavor. Whoever the man had been, it was clear that either him, or his memory, was important to her. "Why is he not here with you?" Aren inquired, aware that he was likely treading on the most sensitive topic of all. He knew this from experience, as the subject of his own father was a delicate one, and it was one he probably would never willingly talk of with most people.

[Meera]

"Older men slow the swift horse," Meera added slowly. "Survival most promised if apart." Her matter-of-fact voice returned as though she harboured little emotion for Patros' decision. It was for the most part true. Patros was nearing forty and his belly had grown soft. Traveling with her for the past fifteen years had kept him young, but as she aged there was little else he could teach her that he had left to tell. He was a surrogate father and he had taken pity on her. Patros held no desire to marry a girl so young, knowing his life had been lucky to survive that long during travel. Separating from Patros was sad, but she knew Patros was right - if the Ankal decided to search, it would be difficult to locate them both if they travelled in different directions. Meera had planned to take it one step farther and sail, but Aren had distracted her. The business in the garden had kept her in Riverfall too, where each day brought new experiences and laughter.

That was new. Patros enjoyed telling Meera stories at camp, but rarely were they humourous. They were stories to impart wisdom, to challenge her for new outcomes. Sometimes the stories he told were about her when she first learned to ride, and about her Strider, and about how she would know if Darksand was hers to bond with. According to Patros' stories, Darksand was not her true Strider, as close as Darksand seemed.

It made her frown to think of that the most, that the horse she had tended to was not the one for her, and that one day a Strider would gallop by and change her. She had devoted several years of her life to Darksand, learning to communicate through whinnies and neighs and snorts, through feelings and oats and sugarcubes. It would invalidate the time she spent with Darksand, to meet this new Strider, and she hoped that this new Strider, should he ever come, would be after her black and tan's death, so as to not injure Darksand emotionally.
In the very least, should the Strider decide to trot on by, Darksand could always be Aren's steed.

"Patros taught all he could. Loved me like father I never had, not like third wife. Wanted better life for young Meera." Eyes that had drifted from Aren's face found his eyes again, and she smiled.
"For best, Aren. I am in Riverfall and without love interest." To bring them out of the solemn talk Meera smiled then, even managing a chuckle. She had never laughed as much as she had now in Riverfall, surrounded by tall ebony and vermillion and indigo men, each as chiseled as the last.

[Aren]

They had separated, for their mutual protection, or so Meera believed. Aren suspected that this Patros might have sacrificed himself for her, as most fathers would for their children, even though she was not truly his child. At her not so subtle comment that she found herself in Riverfall without a love interest, likely brought about by her continued inebriation, Aren couldn't help but grin widely. "Oh? You don't say," the akalak feigned disinterest, his eyes averting her's, if only for a moment. After a few seconds, his gaze came to meet the drykas girl's own, full of playful mischief. "Perhaps it would be best if you rested now, miss Ysa- Meera," Aren's mouth moved counter indicatively to what his eyes were saying. If the girl knew anything about his people, she would be cursing that blasted akalak honor and discipline to hell, right about now. "Tomorrow, when you are more yourself, we'll have that tour, if you'd like,"

[Meera]

She took a grin at his feint, but honestly believed his feint as truth. She hadn't the experience to discern his type of speech from his true meaning. The grin she held was to hide her true feeling, which was that Meera felt hurt by his words. She felt maybe in the way she told her story it naturally led to her being single, but Aren seemed rude in his rejection of her. At least she knew, now, despite wanting to pitch a bottle at his silly giant blue head.


The blonde stood on her own as though it would punish the Akalak for his lack of desire for her. Her face was one of defiancy, and because she demanded she stand on her own, she had also stood too quickly and the world rushed to meet her as she swayed. Immediately she closed her eyes in hopes to better regain her balance and it worked for the most part, helped by holding the back of her wooden chair.

"Help," She said preemptively. Though her vision may have become steadier, it was still wont to tilt, and the room had taken up the lovely habit of spinning. Her head felt light in her dizziness as well, and though she did not impart any of this information on Aren, Meera felt faintly ... Well, she couldn't describe it. A part of her would say she felt light and airy and swift, and another part would say she felt sluggish, heavy and much like dead weight. Between the two, Meera got dizzy trying to decide which side felt better and she knew the tumbling of feelings in her gut would cause her to throw up.

Meera stood on her own, but the trek to the staircase leading up to her rooms looked treacherous enough, let alone the climb to the upstairs floor.
"Help, cannot by self." Her voice got more pressing. At least he could press his body against hers and if she vomited on him in her drunkenness it would serve him right!, she concluded.

[Aren]

Aren couldn't help but smile at her innocence, as Meera took his teasing for actual disinterest, sulking about it like a child. He was about to show her how wrong she was, when the poor girl's insobriety finally began to take a toll on her legs. The akalak was about to place a hand on her back when the girl managed to steady herself against her chair. She seemed to be determined to return to her room upstairs, having grown angry at Aren for his perceived rejection, but actually needed his help to accomplish her plan. Despite this, the akalak was more than willing to aid her in her endeavor to get away from him, knowing full well that the act would defeat her purpose. "Of course..." he declared, instantly whisking the young drykas up into his arms, as effortlessly as one might a babe, "...where to?" Aren knew that she definitively needed to rest, to allow that ale to run it's course through her system, but Meera was not likely to listen to him, now. He would just have to hope that he could deposit the girl in her bed and that she would go to sleep without much fuss. As the giant proceeded to head for the stairs, he gave Nys a look, who himself had been concerned for the stability of the young drykas girl. The other akalak flashed him the number of her room, lest she tell Aren the wrong one, in her stupor.

[Meera]

In a blue blur Aren was up at at Meera's side and her head followed languidly to see his bright eyes. She gave a scoffing sound and no sooner was it out of her throat had he scooped her up like she was some damsel in distress. Her arms folded over her chest in her immediate and obvious displeasure at having a change in height and she gave an exaggerated pout that did not last long on her lip. After a moment she struggled to maintain her pout, as it broke into a smirk, and that was barely contained as she chuckled to herself.

"Meant to lean," She explained after a moment's calm washed over her. "Not mean to ride you. Room is upstairs. Do not know number. It has wood door with my belongings inside." Meera replied roughly. "Try them all, or take to your room. I sleep there. It matter not," the drunk blonde added flippantly.

Aren was warm, and she was up higher than if she had been swaddled by a human, so the height comforted her and reminded her of the view she would see if on horseback. Her eyes closed and her head lolled into the well defined arm of her Akalak companion and she made a pleased sound.

[Aren]

By the sound, one might have assumed that Aren was carrying a recently fed kitten in his arms, and he was pleased that Meera's capacity to remain angry seemed rather short. The akalak smiled as the drykas girl suggested that she wouldn't mind sleeping in his room, but Nys, being the buzz kill that he was, gave his friend a disapproving look when he noticed Aren's lips curve upwards. "No, no..." he frowned at Nys, disappointed, "...your room will do fine. Wouldn't want people getting the wrong idea," Aren glanced at his barkeep friend, to see if his words met with his approval. After a nod from the man, the akalak brought his lips to Meera's ear, on the sly, "Or would we?" he whispered, a wicked grin attempting to break through his face. Up the stairs the akalak went, effortlessly bounding each step as if his burden was that of no more than a feather. A purring, drunk feather, but still, the comparison held. Soon enough, the akalak reached the door which lead to, ostensibly, Meera's room, "We're here, miss Meera," he announced, softly, so as not to disturb his ward, still cradled securely in his arms.

[Meera]

It took everything in Meera's power not to react to his lips brushing against her ear, whispering a sly intent. Meera could easily understand the meaning behind his words, and what was meant exactly by 'wrong idea'. She was of the state of mind to agree to his whispered question but she had little idea of what that question would really entail. She was learned on the art of copulation, but had never done the act, and hadn't ever gone so far as a kiss and wouldn't the least bit know where to start something like that. Besides, she told herself, she was comfortable in his embrace, and in the long run it would be for the best that she choose not to react. She still felt vaguely nauseas, and the room had ceased to spin as much. Her head had gathered an ache behind her brow and she didn't really feel 'drunk', or any half-state between sober and intoxicated. She felt tired, and no longer exceptionally warm.

How fleeting that feeling was, that feeling of normalcy. Too soon had Aren moved and jostled her up the stairs, too soon had she been delivered to her bedroom. Aren had just met Meera, they were moving too fast, or too slow, or ... Meera gave a soft sigh against the leather of Aren's vest, a trivial sigh. Her eyes remained closed for another moment to settle her stomach and spinning feeling before she decided it was best to open.

It was made obvious Aren had found her room. Her pack and its contents were arranged neatly on a small ugly desk, her arrows and bow resting against the wall. Her bed was neatly tucked in against another wall, with a drying chemise hung over the back of a wooden chair. It was a poor rental, and as such the room was adorned with a small window and no fire, which made her very tiny room seem dark and cold.

Meera shivered softly and gooseflesh traveled down her bare neck and could be seen on her chest where her ties had shifted and revealed.

[Aren]

The rhythmic up and down motion of Aren's chest must have felt like the rocking of the sea to poor Meera, his breathing a tide washing against the shore. It was his training. A simple exercise such as this would not so much as alter the rhythm of his heart. So, why could he feel it pounding in his chest? He knew the reason, all too well, and it was not exertion. The akalak crossed the threshold of Meera's room, as, it seemed, she had left it open. He recognized her things inside, and so knew that there could be no mistake. As he inched towards her bed, he realized that every step he took seemed to be slower than the last. It was because he didn't wish to disturb the girl in his arms, Aren told himself, though he wasn't sure it was the truth. Eventually, however, they reached the foot of the bed. Kneeling, the akalak gently placed the drykas in her bed, a look of weariness clear on her face. "Good night, miss Meera," he whispered, before turning around, and leaving her room, softly closing the door behind him. As he stood outside her door, in the long hallway that linked all the various rooms in the upper floor of the inn, Aren lingered for a moment. Waiting. After a few seconds, however, he rushed off, looking to be in a hurry. "I need another bath... a cold one," he mumbled, as he headed back down stairs.