Skin Deep

[Amatus]

Fall 20 512AV


The Docks were musty, like the timeworn molded barrels of decomposing fish remains and the withered felines that licked their chops over the distended eyeballs and a prospective meal. Even as the sun sat at midday, shadow seemed to seek out the pathways of the narrow corridors. Every darkened cranny was bursting. Garbled murmurs and the dim orange glow of burning tobacco leaves assured him of it. There were dwellings even the sun dared not touch. The path of whittling cobblestone clacked beneath his boots. Each step built a steady rhythm to ricochet against the brick of the narrow lanes until he was drunk upon it. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. He wove between the patrons and their biddings, Ravok was his city and he had nothing to fear.

The bartender's hair was loosely restrained, stray thread tucked behind his ears and a thick cord of leather mending them together like a bundle of wheat lazing over the bends of his clavicle. The rings of his irises were the shade of the muddled sky, an overcast grey with sharpened rays of cobalt that never lingered across the faces that noticed his silhouette dipping past them. He knew where he was headed, and while he was in no real rush, he was lost in the deed; lost in the damp, salty air as it pooled in his chest.

Within his sight, two soaring buildings sat side by side, one with a large door with chipping red paint, the other with an outsized dripping black sun painted along its shadowed side. They were daunting, two giants barricading the view of the shore behind them. Amatus grasped the outer edges of his jacket and drew them to his chest with a deep sigh. The building he searched for was crumpled between the two buildings. Its reedy tin walls were tarnishing and the when it rained it was unbearably loud within the construction. He was glad to see that the weather was not due for a change outside the chill that nipped at the tip of his nose and flushed his cheeks in pale color.

As he reached the door, the writing was clear upon a wooden board. Carved into the pulp of the driftwood with thick traced lettering:

Tine's Exotic Goods.

Find What You Will.

Steal and Be Killed.

A tug heaved the blonde's lips into a passing smile. It was a humor he could appreciate. He pulled at the doors handle and it creaked open far enough for him to enter comfortably before the edge of the mounted sign scrapped against the entrance's hinges. He knew more or less what he preferred, but as the room illuminated before him, he felt inclined to have a look about.

There was a hesitance of the store’s clerk as skimmed over Amatus’ presence, as if to question the proper way to address him. “Good evening.” The young assistant at the older man’s side offered.

“Evening.” Amatus tipped his head in return and walked on toward the first table of assorted items.

“Let us know if you have any questions.” The store clerk at last chimed in with the coaxing of Amatus' reply and chastising glance.

“Of course, thank you.”

[Piraen Saneka]

Since his arrival in Ravok, the bird had taken to frequenting Tine's fine little store. The objects that were stacked within it were bizarre, which Piraen could admire. After all, he himself was something of a faux pas. Nobody expected a kelvic to attempt to be tame, nor did they wish for them to be genteel. Too human to be kelvic, too kelvic to be human; yes, he could relate to being bizarre. Generally, Piraen didn't mind being the odd man of the bunch. It showed character, guts, moxie. On top of that, it got him an easy pass from slavers. Either he looked too pricey for their tastes, or, if they did choose to stop him, they couldn't waste time on him for long. Nobody wants to own a slave that challenges their fashions and intelligence. Sometimes,though, he'd regret being dealt such a hand of cards. Most other kelvis he'd met shunned him because he was, apparently, denying part of his blood by being tasteful. Boo-hoo. He wouldn't apologize for wanting to be acceptable to the general population, even if that made him "bizarre." Piraen sat on a worn stool, leaning back onto the counter with his right elbow. He twirled a small bit of his scarf's end between his left thumb and middle finger. As another person entered the store, the bird tossed a jaded glance his way. Her way? His. Her. Pi tilted his head, looking the person over. They had the body of a female, though there were certainly some areas that lacked feminine touches. The side of his lips pulled into a half-smirk; wherever this person's sex landed, they were still strange. Captivating to look at, Piraen felt as though this being belonged in the shop as much as the objects hanging from the ceiling or the kelvic leaning indifferently against the clerk's counter.

[Amatus]

The warehouse was bursting. Each wall adorned in an assortment of hues and ranks of stacked shelves with the tipping towers of scarcely spoken of goods. Dyed masks stared at him through hollow eyes as he passed their mountings on the walls. The maze of isles had made him oblivious of the Kelvic summing him up in a single sharpened glance.

He passed his reedy digits across the wide mouths of the brass instruments lined in a row as he bypassed them. His eyes danced across the reflection of the magnifying glasses sprawled in checkered patterns and drawstring bags of dark blue velvet that sat beneath each one of them. There were not many people within the shop, none in fact he had seen besides the shopkeeper and his assistant bustling across paperwork from behind a counter near the door. He rounded a corner with a noiseless pivot upon his heels, still inspecting the shelves full of elaborately carved pipes to the side of him.

The crisp bleached shirt and the creak of the floor as agile feet budged with his mindlessly invading presence disconcerted him. His eyes dashed to meet the face of the other existence, an unsettling look of surprise upon his face. Amatus was not easily taken from his well-formed composure, and the moment of pure honesty drew blood to the vales of his ears. He swallowed and took a casual stride back, the muscles of his jaw flexed over clenching teeth and a slender gold pendant swayed free from the hem of his shirt. It slung across the only scar that noticeably blemished him, a long pinked ravine rounding the base of his neck.

"You surprised me." he gestured flatly with a roll of his shoulders, his features recomposing into their proper places. "My apologies for nearly bumping into you. You hardly made a sound.” He glanced around for a short-lived moment as if imagining he would suddenly be surrounded by strangers he had also failed to notice. Instead there was only this man before him. He was not sure what was more unsettling.

The other man was pressed and clean with the proper and diligent care of some nobles. It would be difficult not to notice him if he had entered his bar among the muck of repetitive dunks and average businessmen. He was the kind Amatus was normally drawn toward, but something about him troubled the youth. His sharp jaw and large intense honey shaded sights drilling into him were things he was not often subjected to upon a first happenstance. Though he revealed no cue of his disconcertion, only a pleasant grin was offered with the insignificant tilt of his head that it required for them to appear eye to eye. "I suppose I was lost in the bombardment of articles."

From his face he brushed a few out of place stands away from his eyes and glanced across to laying merchandise and lifted one of the pipes from the shelf by the man’s shoulder.

[Abstract]

Grade Awarded!

Piraen

Skills

~ Observation - 1

Lores

~ Bizzare Clothing is Actually Helpful

Other

N/A

Notes

Nothing to say.