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

[Meera]

Dated Winter 511AV - Day 73, just past 18 bells (6:00PM)

::We go now?:: Meera interpreted her horse to say to her. Immediately on sight of her, his ears were perked high and he had whinnied. His hooves clopped against the soft dirt at the prospect. Darksand's natural luminescence seemed a bit brighter, illuminating his stall.

Meera sighed sorrowfully and pat his snout. Gently, she shook her head. Darksand's long face seemed longer and his inner glow dimmed. It wasn't dark out, the sun was still high but he was excited to see his Drykas, stabled as he was. The Strider knew how his rider loved to ride and she should be itching for a good run - yet, here she was, saying no. Meera had not neglected Darksand, she had fed him at the proper intervals and brushed his coarse hair.

"Something happened, Darksand. Not in rush to sail in any case. Can't ride much on a ship. But, at least I've cleaned."

She had bathed and taken out her braids. She had spent a long time washing the dirt and grim off her body, taking special care to rid herself of the sweat and oil. As long as her body had taken, her hair had taken twice as long at least to wash and rinse. Her hair was so long and dirty she had to rinse the bathwater to finish her washing and even then the water had easily filled with grimy suds that gave a plume of ashy green into the air with every popped bubble of soap. Her hair was a series of close braids, one on the top of her head, and two on each side, all joining into one central pleat. It was their custom to wear intricate knot work of braids, but Meera never had the patience for anything more fancy than her current style. Frequently it was a simple pleat from her forehead, with her long tail wrapped around itself into an actual knot at the base of her skull. No matter her lack of windmark, Meera was an Ankal's daughter and her station deemed a fancy style. However, she was not raised an Ankal's daughter and her hair would reflect her upbringing. It was any wonder that she was allowed braids at all.

One thing was new to her hair - a small ornament. Usually decorated in coloured ribbons, she had left them in her pack and bought herself a small bell to affix to the center of her
braid.

"This place has a charm, Darksand," She gave a soft smile as her eyes dared to find the dark spots against the cream.
"I am certain it holds sentiment to you, considering Sunstar and her rider. You really liked Sunstar, didn't you, my love?" Sunstar had been Patros' mare, a fierce thing that loved to push Patros' prompts for speed. She lacked the endurance Darksand had. Sunstar had piss in her veins, where Darksand had the fire in his belly. Darksand always did like her, Meera reflected with a smile.

Meera did not confess to her own reasons for staying nor deny Darksand and his, but instead left it unspoken and unfelt in words by kissing his bridge.

She jingled as she walked out of the stable and into the tavern, where she had first met Aren and had hopes to see him again. She hadn't seen him since the giant's step and the man's interruptions had halted their training, or conversation, or whatever people would label it, as Meera had no clue.

A knot formed in her stomach as she entered the crowded tavern, anxiety building up to solidify as a boulder in her gut. She came to rest in a hard wooden chair at a small table much like the one she had joined Aren at two nights prior and kicked a foot up on the neighbouring chair. Idly she picked a burr off her cotton breeches, brushed dried mud off her high calf leather boots or generally tidied up her appearance. Her skin freshly washed gave a sort of glow of warmth with creamy pink colouring her cheeks and what could be seen of her chest through albeit new, but loosely tied up chemise.

The Akalak Aren had spoken too days ago had asked for her order in a friendly manner and Meera gave the normal gruff, non-committal sound that usually sparked more questions than answered.

Did she want food? Meera shrugged. Was she thirsty? After a thought, Meera gave a nod.

Moments later, a mug of ale landed in front of her face. Staring slightly confused at the frothy head on the mug, she brought her foot down to the floor and leaned to the side to fish out her coin purse. The copper mizas were given away and she was left alone with her purchase: her first mug of ale. As though her body knew the power the ale would have instinctively, the knot in her stomach began to loosen as she reached for the handle.

[Aren]

"Careful now, miss Ysane... that's akalak ale," Aren stood right behind the drykas girl, clad in nothing but a towel around his waist. The akalak's musculature gained a glossy appearance thanks to his still wet body, and the scar on his arm was highlighted against the otherwise unmarred skin, "It'll drop you, if you're not careful," he smiled, completely oblivious of his half naked status, courtesy of a mildly eypharian upbringing. He also had a smaller towel draped across his head, which sprayed droplets of water everywhere as he absentmindedly used it to dry his hair. "Looks like we're staying in the same pla-" he began, but Nys, finally turning around from his bar-tending duties, swiftly interrupted, "For Akajia's sake, Aren!" The half naked man, still unmindful of his current attire, cocked his head in puzzlement at his friend's outburst. At this, Nys' eyes insisted that he take a look at himself, and then at his surroundings, so that he might understand the problem. After a moment, it hit him, "OH! With the towel, and the- yeah." Looking almost sheepishly embarrassed, the akalak promptly apologized to all involved, excusing himself in the process. "Apologies for the untoward nakedness, miss Ysane. My mother was eypharian," he bowed, before running off to put on his customary attire, freshly washed and cleaned.

[Meera]

The froth had brushed her lip and she had hardly touched the ale to her tongue when she heard a very familiar voice. They hadn't known each other long, granted, but Aren's voice was distinctive and somehow it had earned a place in her memory. She had turned and ...

"Sweet sharding Cheva..." She had seen a naked man before, and that was not the issue. It was the fact that she had never seen such a display in a tavern. Had Meera been traveling with Aren, such nudity would be expected, but about to taste her first sip of ale...

...And such a pretty, pretty man...

He engaged in conversation with Nys, and she returned to taste her mug of ale.

It was smooth, but bitter. Oh goddess, so bitter. Ale was obviously an acquired taste, and hard to swallow through a wide smile. When had it suddenly gotten so warm? When had the mug gotten so light?

Why did her face hurt? She felt her face with her free hand, feeling hard cheekbones poking through her smile. She felt warm in a deep blush. Why was Aren half naked so different? Because Patros was twice her age and not a warrior? She sighed heavily, and the action felt sluggish and slow.

One more sip.

"Where'd Aren go?" she asked loudly to no one, and half the bar gave her stares. The woman blew air over a numb lip.

[Aren]

Aren soon returned from his trip to the upper floor of the inn, dressed as he normally was (absent his weapon), in a simple leather outfit. The vest he wore did not conceal his almost hundred-year-old scar, but it was much less noticeable now that his skin had pretty much returned to it's typical luster. The akalak found himself standing behind Ysane, as she sipped of her ale, once more. "Sorry about that. Modesty was not one of my mother's principal lessons," he shrugged, acknowledging the fact that there was pretty much no way around the damage that had been done to his psyche during his childhood. "So, miss Ysane... what can I do for you today?" Aren inquired, as he leaned back against the bar, his golden eyes distinctly set upon the young girl's striking face. She seemed to be blushing, which the akalak confirmed with a short shift to his infravision, after which he couldn't help but smile, knowingly. Nys, who had returned to his customary duties at the bar, was still nodding his head at his friend's idiocy. A friend, which, truthfully, he didn't expect to see again... at least not for another couple of decades.

[Meera]

As though on cue Aren returned, an apology ushering forth from his dark blue lips. She turned in surprise to face him at the bar, leaning casually, and instantly regretted it. Her head followed the momentum dizziness had brought on and it made her movement of turning her vision towards him rather exaggerated.

"Sit! Come, come sit and drink with me!" She told him loudly in a language she assumed he would know. Her voice was smooth and refined, her mouth rolling syllables seamlessly and her pitch did not sound so gruff and deep. Her voice had started to sound as feminine as she looked - despite the breeches.

"Come, sit!" She repeated in Common and kicked out the chair her foot had rested on. Ale had loosened her tongue, among other things.

As her vision came into focus on him she had to smirk again like a fool at the open vest with matching leather pants. She actually managed a poorly concealed bout of nervous laughter. Meera couldn't help but return the blush to her cheeks in full glory and draw her eyes away to stare at her mug.

"I have almost first full mug of ale." The normally quiet girl was anything but that tonight. "Is delicious. Only good talking can be friends." What Meera had attempted to say was that only good conversation could accompany a good mug of ale, and that she wished to know more about the Akalak. Meera was reserved on the inside still. An inner monologue ran through her brain, telling her to shut her mouth and to stop drinking, or at least sober up enough to keep her mouth open enough to get his information or secrets. This man she had invited to her table actually angered the normal, inner Meera. She hated how she felt around him. It was weak of her to be so giddy and vulnerable. So soon, too, had she grown a great interest. Here she was now, deep in her cup, and extroverted enough to demand he sit with her.
This would not bode well.

[Aren]

The akalak did not hesitate to sit, when she made the offer, and at present found himself drinking his own ale, a mirror of her own. "Almost a full mug already? That explains a lot," Aren grinned, recognizing the telltale signs of intoxication. Even when she spoke in the drykas' native language, a tongue he had no inkling of, he could tell the girl was not exactly herself, at present. At first, the thought of trying to coax some personal information from her while her defenses were down crossed his mind, but he quickly pushed it aside. It was simply personal curiosity, but he realized that she would likely not appreciate the attempt, especially if it was successful. The matter nagged at him nonetheless, however. She never talked of her parents, as he did, of her past, as he did. Fortunately, after sipping on his ale a few times, his concerns seemed less valid, and he continued to enjoy the pleasant company he found himself in. "Yes. Talking. Good," as Aren processed the translation of her common, he tapped his own mug against her's, "...Friends." Oddly, there was no smile on his face this time, his golden eyes merely looked into her's with a sort of sadness, before he forced himself to look away. To live a hundred years was to have a lot of memories, and, unfortunately, it was inevitable that they would sometimes pry him away from the joviality he was so fond of.

[Meera]

"Hh--Why so ... uh, ..." Meera pointed to his face and made a frown. "Why can't you know Pavi, then all of this would be insanely easier!" Meera exclaimed. Again she pantomimed his brief emotion of turning down her lips and she stared into her beer. Her hands lost their animation and they rested solemnly.

"Aren? Drink is good." She comforted. "Sad! That is word." She interjected with her own response. Meera shook her head to display her disappointment in remembering the word 'sad.' "How could forget 'sad'. Bah!" She said as an "oh well" catch-all word, and she took one more sip.
"How are you, Aren? You look good. I am good." Meera had leaned in to bring her blushing face closer to him. Her lips were wet from the ale, her eyes were shining in her intoxication. "There is no reason to be sad when I am close." A pale hand fell to his knee.

[Aren]

"Sad? Yes... sad," the akalak's face displayed a strange stoicism that seemed at odds with his usual personality. Thankfully, Aren did not allow these moments to last, and, after a few seconds of silence, he had bounced back to his old self. With a mischievousness smile on his lips, his face approached the drykas' with gentle caution, as she babbled drunkenly, sweet nectar dripping from her full lips as the two came closer still. "You..." Aren whispered, "Are absolutely correct, miss Ysane!" The akalak pulled back suddenly, with a wide grin, "There is no reason for one to be sad, when one finds oneself in such lovely company," he embellished, as he straightened out. Spreading his arms wide with a grand flourish, the blue skinned giant gazed intently at his "lovely company", "Let me show you Riverfall, truly, miss Ysane. And perhaps you can council me as to whether I should stay here a while longer." Aren liked his home well enough, but there was a reason he had left, and there was a reason he hadn't come back for decades. Still, there were also reasons to stay, as he was quickly finding out.

[Meera]

"A..." She huffed and stared at her feet. "A... a tour?" She questioned as though she were unsure of the word. She had been to Riverfall before, but never was she taken around the city. Never had she lingered, and if she had prior, never would she have lingered this long.

"Yes," she said, pulling her face back, and her hand, thoroughly upset with herself as a brief flicker of sobriety washed over her. "Finish ale first." She only had several gulps left if she left the foam to fizzle and decided she would do just that, and fill the space between with a simple question or two.

He had said his mother was an Emphyrean. That seemed like a good starting point.
"Do you..." She paused. "What does emphyrean do with nudity?"

[Aren]

"Yes. A tour, if you want to call it that," Aren was not inclined to referring to it as such, as that would make him a tour guide, but the assessment was essentially correct. The akalak grinned as she insisted on finishing her drink, knowing all too well the power of his people's flavorful ale. At her mention of "emphyrean", however, his grin vanished, if only for the briefest of moments. "Eypharian," he corrected, "was my mother's race," though his face retained the phantom of a smile, the tone of his voice had changed, subtly. It was not a tone of sadness, though it bore a remarkable similarity, but of nostalgia; of days long gone, never to return. "From what she told me, they are not a humble people by nature, and tend to be vain and arrogant, although usually with good reason. Apparently, modesty, probably because of this vanity, is not a principal concern of their kind." Aren smiled, a truer smile than one of a moment ago. He seemed to enjoy talking of his mother's people, for some reason. Perhaps it was because he had never really demonstrated the knowledge to anyone, even himself. It was just something he had absorbed while he was a child spending time with a very proud mother. "Did I mention they have six arms?" the akalak laughed softly, recalling moments when he himself had not quite accepted this feature, even from his own mother.