Maybe Just One (Complete)

[Roka]

10th of Spring, 512 AV

The feel of Sunberth was a false calm; the city appeared even more feeble and ruined than it once was. A damp fog was blanketing the streets, and the noise of the allies seemed even more un-pleasurable. Roka's nose stung with the smell of mold and rotting foods. Even the rats, had kept to themselves for the time, leaving Roka's belly sick and his manner annoyed. He had helped himself to an old chunk of bread from Baker's Butchery and Bakeshop. A mistake he would not repeat, for now his insides churned like a maid making butter from freshly drawn milk.

The clatter of uneven wheels from a slave carriage was becoming audible several feet ahead. He knew he was no target, but also understood, he would detest being seen as a pet and caged. He pulled his hood up over his face as the carriage approached and stood idly by an entrance whose sign read "The Pig's Foot Tavern." As it passed he felt the molded wheat he'd been digesting rise to his chest, he turned to a barrel full of rot and trash and upheaved the vile in several wrenching heaves.

By the time he had emptied his stomach the wheels could no longer be heard and his cheeks were pink from bending over, his ears full of the sound of his own blood pumping. He wiped the moisture for his eyes and exhaled a large breath. His tongue ran over his sharpened canines before he spit the remaining taste of vomit into the barrel. Not since he was a pup, mistakenly eating a sickly sweet poison berry, had he disposed of his stomach contents. He had forgot the displeasure he felt in doing so, and now his stomach sat hallow once more.

He made a swift turn and stumbled into the Tavern. He was unfamiliar with many businesses’ of the sort as he had never had a drink. Though he did not feel ashamed by this fact, he suddenly was aware that perhaps this was unusual to enter a place of drink with no intention to do so. In a place such as Sunberth, it benefitted him more to remain nameless and faceless. Still the warmth of the insides and the sound of song and chime of laughter lifted his spirit like a dog excited to hear the footsteps of his master. It made him a bit disappointed in himself that, he was so lonely, that the nature of what he was would be so constantly. Even still he could not bring himself to leave.

He took a seat at a table alone and removed his hood, his long dark hair falling along his shoulders. He could easily be mistaken for a female, but this was a matter he wasn't quite aware of. He huffed and felt for his coin purse, wondering if it would really hurt to try Ale, maybe just once.

He made his way to the bar and took a wary seat, and cleared his throat.
The bartender glanced his way with a fairly greeting look. "What can I get ya'?"

Roka scanned him over for a moment before answering "Uhh, ya, a drink...something strong."

The other man chuckled heartily "'right, a mug of Ale for the, young one."

Roka sighed in no mood to retaliate; he simply tossed the man gold Meza, "For any other drink or food I buy tonight, ne?"

"Sure thing"

[Polla]

Walking into a shady little tavern, Seradell picked up her skirts to avoid dirtying the hem. Silk edge brushed along the floor as she moved graceful across the wooden boards, her silk slippers making nary a sound in the rowdy Sunberth bar. The Symposter had just arrived in town hearing very little of the town's reputation and once Sera arrived, she quickly found refuge the first place that looked the most hospitable. Having no weapons save for her high soprano voice, no method of melee save for her dancing, she was perfectly defenceless and quite the vulnerable little victim as a Nuit in Sym's clothing. One swipe against her pale material would reveal her true species and her seventy years of work would be for nothing.

Amethyst eyes scanned the patrons of the establishment and her face dulled a touch in her lack of impress. It wasn't until Seradell spotted a young man, his skin quite pale and his hair quite the colour of onyx that her hopes were somewhat raised.

Believing this man conversing with the bar tender a fellow Symenestra at first glance, Seradell made her approach to his table and sat, her feet making no sound and her body sitting quite graceful with a straight back. She dropped her skirts and ran her black claws through her matching onyx hair.
Her posture allowed for her chest to be accentuated, pushed out almost to lure the man towards her. Her seventy years as a Sym gave her habits that were hard to shake. Long arms folded on the dirty table, her bosom coming to rest on her piled hands as though they were a perch.

Seradell certainly couldn't partake in any beverage while in the establishment but she could certainly ride out the storm of violence outside on the streets. Perhaps this man she now shared a table with would know of a hospitable place she could rent, not that she needed a place to sleep. A safehouse was what Seradell required while she searched for her new job. Putting all her hope that someone would have need of an entertainer, Sera was being very risky.

In any case, she cast her thoughts aside. It was polite to make her conversation now to this man who's table she had just forced him to share.

"Hello." She cooed, her voice delicate and sounding like warm honey whiskey: smooth, sexy. There was a certain coyness to her voice that played at inexperience, at a certain vulnerability designed to intice men and make women jealous. Polla loved her choice in Sera, her voice was sweet and a painful beauty -- all of that conveyed in the way she said her greeting, and more.

"My name is Seradell Orchid." She appraised the man she sat across from with a brow slightly raised by a twitch.

[Blayze]

The young Konti had watched from a shadowy corner of the tavern as the dark haired young man walked in, soon followed by a night haired young woman who was as terrifying in her appearance as she was awe-inducing. Blazye pulled the hood of her coat down a bit further, blocking her eyes from sight, but allowing her a good view. She didn't observe anything much interesting, and so returned her attention to the mug of ale in front of her. She didn't look very out of place in the dingy tavern. Her coat was unbuttoned, not that a lot could be seen of her alabaster skin. In fact, the only thing that could be seen from under her hood was that arrogant grin of hers, the crooked one that pulled up one corner of her mouth, stretching her berry pink lips. The rest of her face was shrouded in shadow, not even the gemstones of her eyes could be seen. To anyone who might have looked, she would have looked mysterious, alluring, and dangerous if you noted the tiger hooks leaning against the wall behind her. Her pack sat on the floor, and soon enough she would remove her coat, maybe. But at that moment she enjoyed the anonymity it gave her. She sipped her ale, watching as the night-haired woman introduced herself. Something about her, the way she carried herself, the mockingly innocent voice, something just grated against the Konti's nerves. Her eyes grew slitted, burning with emerald fire. Her grip on the mug tightened, but she retained her control. Just about. Something about her, this 'Seradell'...it made her want to fire the mug at her head. Blayze analysed her own thoughts. It was probably just a pang of jealousy. The woman did have a strange grace about her. It was dark, haunting almost. But she would never, ever admit that the stranger was beautiful. Even as a young girl, she'd always envied the dark haired women who visited the White Isle. She'd always wanted dark hair. Such a trivial thing, that she often found herself laughing at the obscenity of it. But not there. No, then and there she remained silent, contemplating revealing herself. She was getting rather hot under the blasted coat.

[Roka]

Roka sat with his arms crossed across the helm of the bar and the now frosty mug perspiring down into the grain of the wood. His thoughts were elsewhere to his mother, to his a home that was never much of a refuge, and to his new life here. Remaining alone seemed common sense; he had no use to even stay in one place for an extended period. Every instinct in his body only called him to survive off the land, whatever it may be. Though the desire of his people, to seek companionship, was etched into the back of his mind.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sweet and lulling voice. It confused him that he didn't detect her presence until she had allowed him to. He raised his head to glance at her through his hair. His eyes were set upon something he did not expect. She was quite beautiful; with skin like marble, pale and etched with fine lines of her veins, but it was her eyes the color of rich wild flowers that drew his attention. His own golden eyes searched them over, looking for something he could not be sure of.

His sat up to better look her over, and all was as it seemed, she was a fair sight among a city of wallow. One thing did strike him as odd, her scent. It wasn't as he expected it to be. Unlike her sweet appearance she smelled sickly, like the smell he caught when passing an open infirmary. He contained his urge to get a better sniff of the faintly odor, but resisted, feeling it better to remain less suspicious. He knew not her intent or reason for speaking with him, but felt glad to have her.

Never-the-less, Roka was young, but at an age prime for reproduction in his species. A faint smell at the sight of a rose would not detour him. He gave her a smile that barely cracked his lips. "Welcome Seradell, I am known as Roka" his voice shook with a small laugh and his sharpened teeth peeked from behind his lips.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty perhaps?" He asked, in her presence he felt livelier, he was not sure if it was her or any company at all that would suit his needs, but he was glad to have her. He picked his mug from the table and took a hefty first drink. His face scrunched as he had seen his father's when he had been drinking, now he understood why. The bitter drink flooded his tastes, and poured into his gullet. His body was wrapped in warmth, blood rushing to the apples of his cheeks. Had he been in his true form a purr might have slipped his lips.

[Polla]

"Roka," She repeated almost with a frown. If he was a true Symenestran he would have had a much longer name, or at least a Dra-. She had personally witnessed both sides of the Dra- distaste, having been one herself. Even through all the negativity, no self-respecting spider would pretend to be something they were not. These facts swirled in Sera's brain and she was sorely tempted just to stand and walk away but she was comforted to know that at least he looked like he could have been a Harvester. His limbs were not nearly long enough.

He pressed her for food or drink and Sera merely shook out her long black hair, causing it to dance elegantly and fall to frame her face. If Sera did happen to be hungry, she definitely could not eat what this bar had for sale, regardless of the fact that that she was a Nuit.

"No." She said simply, "Thank you." She watched with genuine interest as he ingested his ale. It was a curious thing for her, to watch people eat and drink and sleep. To a tireless Nuit, it seemed that was all that everyone did all the time. It was any wonder when they had time for other things.
"Tell me, Rrroka," His name trilling on her tongue, "Where could one seek the company of such a strong man for protection for a night or two? I am new in town and," She leaned closer to rest a hand on his arm, "I'm afraid the violence here might be a bit too much for a simple singer and dancer like me."

Ah, there it was. The small snippet about herself to start a conversation. Perhaps he could be swayed in a few more bits of dialogue to ask her to sing, and her voice would calm the bar.

[Roka]

When the Symenestrian’s hand laid rest across his arm, he felt a chill run through his body, the hand was colder than he would have expected. He wondered for a moment if she was truly well enough to be here, in this bar, speaking with him. He gazed at her fingers upon his skin for a drawn out time, silent.

He took another drink, bottoming out his mug, and raised his hand for another. Her voice was silk, stroking his ears. An old predatory technique ran across his mind, and it puzzled him as it did. Drawn in by an enticing lure, an unsuspecting creature would walk right into the stomach of a clever predator. He nearly felt like a fly stuck in this woman’s web.

The alcohol soothed his worried spirit and enticed him to continue without fear. Tonight he would act as foolish humans do. "This city is in no lacking of strong men, miss, it's their intent that should worry you..." he paused, "but if you are truly in need, then I am at your full disposal." His inhibitions were severely impaired by his chosen drink, and he felt limp and easy, as if any path he chose would be the correct one.

He looked back to his drink and picked it up by its handle, the contents swishing like a storm from within the glass. He looked up at himself from the bubbling reflection and cocked his head to the side. "A singer...your voice already sings quite a fine tune, I don't know that my ears could stand to hear such a sweet sound." he turned in his seat scanning the room, it was still in a habit to observe his surroundings despite his bad judgment. He then noted that most eyes were on her, men and woman alike, if only in flickers, they had noticed her and surely noticed she was now in his company. This made him tense slightly and bit at his lip. He felt now was a good time to take another gulp of the serum to cure his troubled mind.

[Aerika]

Aerika found herself trotting along back to the old tavern she had taken refuge once before a great storm had rolled through. She remembered the drink of milk she had received and the kind eyes of the man that owned the place. Hoping to get another stomach full of soothing fresh milk, Aerika walked in the same direction she had that one day long ago. Finally finding the tavern known as Pig's Foot Tavern, Aerika pushed open the door and just as before, the light from outside reflected from her skin, hair, and her dress. She took a step in allowing the door to shut and light disappeared behind her. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed several new faces but one stood out, a woman from the night of the storm, only this time, she was clean. Aerika took quickly steps in toward the woman with white hair whom was sitting in a corner by herself. On her approach, she passed the bar where two people she thought were woman and suddenly smelled something that reminded her of death. Trying to ignore the smell as it could have been anything, Aerika approached the woman with white hair and stood toe to toe with her. This other woman was taller than herself forcing Aerika to look straight up at the woman and before anything could be said or anyone moved, Aerika opened her mouth to speak. "I am glad to see you are clean this time, your hair is very nice when it is clean. I was almost worried you were one of those people that was always dirty, that would have been no good." Her voice had very little tone, and was not taunting, though obviously did not know how to speak to people she did not know. Her innocent face continued to look up as her nose began to twitch with the smell from before filling her nose once again. Aerika turned around to look around the room and was drawn to the couple of long, black haired women sitting at the bar, something about them was not as it seemed. Aerika still couldn't put a name to it, but this smell was more than just death, and it was familiar while unfamiliar. Aerika's body began to fill as though it was lifting from the ground until she was standing on her toes, she tip-toed toward the woman and the smell grew stronger. She continued until she was right behind them and she took a large sniff of air while right in-between the group. The smell was certainly coming from one, if not both of them, so arrogantly, she asked "What is this smell that reminds me of death?"

[Polla]

"Mm," She offered, such a simple sound without a smile. Was this what Harvesters did? No wonder they loved their job. It was so surprisingly easy to lure in this man.

"I have great concern over the intentions of strong men, it is why I am choosing to find myself a stronger one." The hand on his arm gave a gentle squeeze to convey some hidden attempt. Purple eyes flashed with the promise to smile, which she had yet to do. It was much to easy to tempt him, and all she had done was sit down. All Sera had done was introduce herself and he was begging like a dog to take care of her - hungry? thirsty? - and here, now he had volunteered himself into her presence willingly. Sunberth was quite a ways from Kalinor, and he was no woman. He would make a terrible surrogate for her city, but the idea still flashed in her head.

"Oh, come now. You swear to stay by me for the night, to cling to my side every moment, no matter what should happen, until day break?" An air of innuendo hovered between them. Sera recoiled her hand with her onyx claws to run through her smooth hair one last time. Her pale lip hung open, revealing the tip of Sera's delicate, pointed fangs. Before he could be granted a long look, a salmon tongue wet her open lip before sucking it in, pretending to bite the flesh. Dark aubergine eyes fell from his to his wet mouth, almost in suggestion.

[Blayze]

Blayze sat still, blinking. The girl, who looked at first glance like a Konti even younger looking than she was, had approached her and made a comment on her appearance that day when she had woken up outside the Pig's Foot with a pounding head and smeared in dirt. Then she complimented her on her hair. "What in the name of Avalis... The people in this town, they get more confusing every day." She sighed, flicking back her hood to let a single lock of icy white hair fall down across her chest. She rolled her shoulders, the coat dropped down to her elbows and with a swift movement, she pulled her arms out and sat it next to her. The Konti cracked her neck, lthe dim light casting shadow across her bare shoulders. She strained her ears, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. Her boredom had soared to new heights, and so had brought her to new lows in an attempt to dispel it. She reached up, slim fingers curling around the cold metal prong in her hair. With a soft pull it came free, thick curling waves of white cascaded around her, falling down to an inch or so above her waist. The ivory lengths were thickest at the roots, thinning out towards the ends. She shook her head, ruffling the snowy locks, and ran a hand through her bangs, letting out a sigh. All she could make of the conversation ahead of her was faint mumbling, so she gave up, lifting her hands to clasp fingers around her hair, which she pulled up to the crown of her head. She wrapped it around her fingers, twisting her hand at the wrist, winding the hair into a tight knot. Blayze lifted the prong, tucking it into the coil of white. Her head gave a light throb, the prong pulling the hair taut. She removed her hands, and a single lock floated down to settle against her back. She raised the mug of ale to her lips, offering a short mental prayer to Lhex, that fate might bring someone interesting her way.

[Roka]

Roka swallowed hard, like a squirming creature had been lodged there. He could not take his eyes from her, was this some stupor he had stumbled into? Yes a sudden dream had come over him or great misfortune was before him.

He place his hand over her fingers upon his forearm, was this twisting in his stomach because he was unconvinced or was an inner voice calling for reason from within him? He couldn't be definite, but he was too far gone to construe further. His head filled with a static that made it hard to concentrate.

Unexpectedly his nose caught a new smell, that of a little fox, not one like himself but similar enough, that he could tell immediately. Still she held his gaze "N-no matter what..." he seemed to falter, even in saying these words that could sign some kind of vulgar ruling, he felt content in doing so. This must be what it feels like when mating ends in death, willingly subsiding to your lesser nature, blissful to be accepted into deaths calling clutch.

The young girl’s sudden words broke him free, and again he was troubled that he was so oblivious to how obviously close she was. He shrunk back into his seat, and pulled his arms from the Sabadell’s pull. It worried him more that he knew she would likely know of his true form almost straightaway. He wished to remain as ordinary as possible in most settings; it suited him more if the time arose for a swift get away.

He fought back the compulsion to snarl at the fellow Kelvic, not just because she had pulled him from his trance, but also because the beast in him reminded him she was invading his territory now. He restrained himself "Smell...of death?" his words came out slowly, and he didn't like how his words were becoming slumped together.

He finished the remainder of his drink despite himself. There at the bottom of his glass is where his mind found the meaning of the pint-sized fox's question. Obviously she would smell what he had, but had not the courtesy to remain mute. Had he been this way too as a pup? "Death is the scent of this rotting city, little girl..." a chuckle resounding in his words, this seemed reasonable enough. “Wouldn’t it be odd to not find it upon the residents of its gates?"