Closed The beauty within horror [Mellena]

[Amelia Cross]

[35th day of summer 513.a.v.]
[Merchants Ring]
[Middle day]

The weather was nice, as always, and the people seemed to be a lot more happy this season. She was sure it had something to do with the “tears of joy” Rhysol himself shed for the return of the Druvin…sadly; Amelia couldn’t really remember the actual name of the man. Well, if you could refer to one of those as a man. Today wasn’t all that lucky for work, she couldn’t manage to find anyone willing to use her services, and the ones that did, well, they were interested in the politics of Ravok. Amelia couldn’t give them this information.

The girl had been dying to get herself into reading again, she had missed the storybooks she remembered from Zeltiva and the countless books her mother owned. Sure, Amelia had access to bout the library of her father and the library of the institute. However, her father’s books consisted of poison and propaganda of Ravok. As much as Amelia had learned to love the city, she still had an emotional denial of the way they teach everyone to live by the laws of one god and it’s ideals. Above all, the books in the institute were just books of study, you could come upon an occasional book not being all study, but they were the same propaganda of Ravok. ”Maybe I should ask Tia to send me a book or two” she wondered to herself as she walked along the ring, making sure not to get her red dress in the way of herself or anyone else.

”isn’t that nice…” Amelia couldn’t help but smile as soon as her gaze was caught by a woman and her son. The young boy was carrying, well, helping to carry, his mother’s groceries. Amelia knew, Ravok wasn’t as horrible as everyone made it sound, it was actually quite the nice place. Sure, some of the activities outsiders find disrespectful are more common here, but it isn’t of much problem for anyone. It’s how they live, and nobody kills for the fun of it. Probably, the only thing she still couldn’t get used to was the popularity of slaves…and the propaganda of Rhysol. ”we are born free…why is it so common to put someone down here…” she wondered as soon as the woman with her son disappeared from her eyes and she was left to her own thoughts once more. Silently humming a melody from her time in Syliras, an old Konti folk song. Tia had told her it’s a song they sang to their daughters.

[Melenna]

Melenna walked slower than she should have. A woman could always blame her dress for that, but the Konti wasn't at all hindered by her gown—itchy lace aside. Valerius insisted on making statements, whether it was with his own impeccable clothing or that of his slaves, and so she wore what marked her as the property of a wealthy man. The gown was a pastel blue, wrapping around the shoulders with flimsy ribbons of the same hue. It was just long enough to hover over the ground like a cloud of snow, and the entirety of the fine linen was veiled with lace that formed daisies and petals across the blue. That left much of the scales on her arms and shoulders for show, glinting against the gentle sun as she made her way across the canals.

She could have taken one of the boats—she'd been given plenty of money to fetch fresh bakery goods and more—but she enjoyed any time away from the estate and only wanted to prolong it. Her mere presence had won the ire and jealousy of more than one fellow slave, and she often found Tuuli's icy looks even sharper than those of her master's. Competition, it seemed, was everything among humans whether you were a free being or not. All the Konti wanted was some conversation, to make light music and hear laughter again, but the home of the Nitrozians was made for whispers, contracts, and false smiles. The lightest atmosphere she could ever become slightly comfortable in was that of Valerius' quarters when he was too engrossed in his studies to notice her humming.

The streets were at least more open. There was more noise and the occasional tune of a street musician, but more importantly, there was more music in the people. The songs breathed upon Melenna's inner ear were lively, brisk tunes not too unfamiliar from her own home, as the businesswomen of Unity Square were always hard at work. Choppy sloshing of lake water, a light breeze, and the clopping of busy hands and feet were the accompaniment to a plucking lute, the melody changing frequently, but always with the steady beat of the town.

Slowly, however, something decidedly sinister-sounding began to follow Melenna. It was a tune she had become accustomed to from being exposed to slavers—heavy, black, and lustful. She wasn't immediately able to attach it to the close passerbys, but her heart fell to her stomach as a man made straight for her, the dark, unsung tune all the louder as he moved. She stopped in front of one of the shops as he came closer, leaning his height over hers.

“You look like one of the Larks' beauties.” The man grinned, making his eyes spark and marring his youthful face with ugly mockery.

Melenna reflexively twined her hands behind her back and took a step away. She knew enough of Ravok to understand what the “important” families were, and didn't appreciate the reference. Her kind was a rare sight in any human city, but no one with the black sun branded on their hand would be considered a wonder for long. She was property to be used, and from the look on the man's face, he very much wanted to use her.

“Don't be shy—I only need to borrow you for a minute. Your master won't mind, I'm sure. I pay well.” The man's gaze softened, one of his hands running along her arm before it caught her hand and pried it away from her.

The Konti's mouth fell agape, but the pitiful tug she attempted to get away from him only made him draw closer. He bent down to put his lips near her ear, warm breath moistening tender skin. “Don't get too eager, now. I know how the Larks work, and I just might have information worth your time.”

Melenna shuddered, a mouse-like squeak escaping as she tore herself away. A few people of the street noticed enough to cast odd glances her way, but no one was keen to stop and inquire after her, either. A slave belonging to one of Ravok's major families was not one you wanted to be attached to if there was trouble. At the very least, however, the man seemed surprised by her reaction, likely haven mistaken her nervousness for superficial shyness. Someone like her, a slave allowed to wander the town, should have understood what he was trying to do.

[Amelia Cross]

Amelia’s stroll was soft. No rush. She had done all of her work for the nearest days and beyond that. So enjoying herself was the least she could do in this city. As she walked, she continued humming the song, now a bit louder as she pulled some of the fine, red fabric of her dress into her hand, to prevent herself from stepping onto it and falling. Despite her good training with her father and mother, she still found herself bad at maintaining grace with long dresses. Something she was jalousie of in her mother and a few ‘noble women’ as she referred to them. For some bizarre reasons, Amelia was just much more comfortable with calling them that, instead of ‘important’. Because to her importance and wealth weren’t the same thing.

As she walked, the black haired girl heard a few whispers. Something to do with a slave of the Larks? Amelia had been amused by mentions of Larks in the city. She had been mistaken as a married in member of the family a few times, when not dressed as finely as now, even a slave of their household. Yet, the girl was still to actually meet any of the members of the famous family, well, meet properly. The closest she has gone to them is just seeing them through the crowds, or seeing a few slaves. Still, that was all irrelevant.

The curiosity of the young Cross seemed to have gotten the best of her. As she walked closer, she could see a man holding a young girl in his arms. It was clear that the girl wasn’t excited about it. Sadly, this was quite common, with slaves. There was little someone could do unless the guards stepped in. However, something kept Amelia looking at the girl. Was it her fine tailored dress that was quite uncommon for a slave to wear? Probably not, the finer families liked to let everyone know just how much they could afford to spoil their slaves. Was it the way the woman didn’t speak? Probably not, a mute slave wasn’t rare and those were the ones the big 4 liked most, they couldn’t spill any secrets, well, that was at least what Amelia thought of it all.

Then it hit her, Amelia’s black eyes landed on the woman’s scales. The girl was no mere slave, she was a konti. The women who are more fish than human, the ones that aren’t exactly common around the streets of Ravok, usually kept as cherished prizes. ”this isn’t right…” Amelia complained to herself as she followed the forms of the stranger, her eyes and small twitches of the face. She couldn’t do much, and she knew it. However, leaving someone as calm and innocent as a konti for this man? She just couldn’t. And that was when a bold idea crossed her mind.

With her chin up high and the fine fabric of her dress falling onto the pavement, Amelia stepped closer to them and began speaking ”What is the meaning of this!?” she questioned, looking at the man with a stare of pure disgust. There was no need to fake it, Amelia did feel higher than him and so did she also feel disgust towards him. This wasn’t much of an act, it was much more of bold bravery. The man seemed to be quite confused at first. ”I’m having a conversation~””With my Slave!” her voice coming off as a growl of an angered predator, Amelia wanted to sound dangerous, but somehow, her lack of acting skills seemed to make her sound a bit more than that. ”And who would you be?” To this, she knew what Amelia had to answer, and deep down she prayed, it would work ”Lucretia Lark” she claimed, her hand resting on her hips to emphasize the confidence of her words. For a moment, Amelia thought even she herself could believe that she was indeed, a member of the prestigious family.

[Melenna]

Two pairs of eyes had swiveled in Amelia's direction—one anxious and the other utterly cold. Judging by the woman's tone, there was about to be more trouble, but Melenna could hear more than that. This newcomer didn't share the smothering, dark tones of the man, but something lighter, delicate, even hopeful. It was like a tender flute entering the song of a haunting cello, forming the strangest sort of music that made the Konti imagine mist being singed by morning light. All she could do was listen, slowing backing away from both the man and woman.

Were both of them mistaken? It hardly seemed possible, her being a konti and the slave of such an auspicious master, but there these people were, arguing over her. The man wasn't quite convinced of the woman's claim—his arms were folded defensively and the angle of his chin was proud despite is less impressive garb. But there was just enough doubt in his gaze to soften its sharpness, and he looked about as if to determine whether he really wanted to be in front of the gathering crowd or not. In the end, it seemed subtlety won out over truth, and he simply offered a pathetic bow before turning away from the two women.

“My apologies. I did not mean to intrude.” Spoken loudly and insincerely, as the man had surely intended before he blended back in with the other shoppers and disappeared.

Melenna then turned to face the woman, dipping her head respectfully. She lacked the cunning eyes and suspicions of her fellow Ravokians and thus didn't even begin to wonder how legitimately this woman was connected to the Larks—instead she was considering the best way to disappear. Melenna didn't have to pretend to be contrite, shaken as she already was, and even she could see that this was a woman of some importance. The lady was dressed in elegant and flowing crimson, but far more fetching than the dress was simply the creature herself. Her skin was so delicately white, almost like glass against the gloss of her fine black hair and painted lips. The Konti couldn't help but be reminded of a porcelain doll, poised and smooth and utterly delicate.

“Please forgive me, Miss Lark—I did not mean to cause any trouble. I was just on my way to run an errand for my master, Mr. Valerius Nitrozian.” Melenna offered a quick curtsey, already beginning to turn so she could make her escape.

OoC: My apologies for the lateness! I haven't forgotten our RP--internet-less circumstances and other such things have kept me from being on Mizahar.

[Amelia Cross]

Amelia knew, no man in his sane mind would try to stand up against a Lark. Sure, she wasn’t one, but nobody here was more than a passing merchant, who couldn’t care less, who had been recently married in the Lark family or not. The rest, some people who probably rarely left the Docks and the Merchant ring was as close as they could get to the center of the city, aside from some more important religious events. Seemingly, she had chosen the perfect disguise.

She watched the man leave, her eyes didn’t soften as she still held the façade of a confident and high born individual, who was defending his property. The Konti, however, seemed to be frightened by her and her claim to be a Lark. She just smiled, her face softened as she saw the girl being so worried. Though, the mention of Valerius made her chuckle, the man was quite distant, she couldn’t imagine his slave being eager to return to him.

”Don’t be afraid, I’m no Lark, Sister” Amelia said in her broken Kontinese, hopping to gain some trust from the woman. She knew that referring to a Konti as sister, might get her on the girls goodside, maybe knowing her language also? It’s been so long, since Amelia had seen a Konti, she missed them and wished to talk some more.

”So, you are Valerius’s slave?” she asked, though and answer wasn’t really required, she had just stated it being so. ”He isn’t really a man of sunshine, I mean, if we are speaking of the same Nitrozian, with those striking blue eyes”almost a bit of a mock. She wasn’t rude, but her tone was so whimsical now that there was no crowd around them and she had no need to pretend, being a high born lady. ”If you really want to go back, I can’t stop you, but I would be quite happy to have you accompany me” she explained.

oocugh, I’m feeling like I am getting into a writer’s block ._.”

[Melenna]

Kontinese was the last thing Melenna had been expecting from the woman's mouth. In truth, The White Isle was but a hop and a skip away when compared to the rest of the world, but Konti numbers were so small by comparison that the tiniest crumb of their culture was a pearl among endless grains of sand. It rendered Melenna speechless, and for a moment she wasn't sure if she ought to be offended by the poor imitation or relieved by the sincerity she heard in it. The woman claimed not to be a Lark, and yet her attire suggested that she was part of high society—an ambassador, perhaps?

“I must thank you for your intervention nonetheless, fair one of Ravok.” Though the Konti didn't know how familiar the woman was with her native tongue, she lapsed into it nonetheless, feeling a strange shiver as those familiar tones danced on her tongue. “I would be loathe to part with so fortuitous a meeting—perhaps we may help one another? As you already seem to be familiar with my master, surely I needn't inform you how upset he would be at a delay... unless, of course, a particular woman of bearing were to provide him with good reason.”

OoC: Sorry for the delay. Again >.>

[Amelia Cross]

The konti seemed to be suspicious, or was it her being thoughtful? Amelia didn’t know, she was much too interested in the scaled pattern. She wouldn’t want one on herself, but the way it seemed to merge with the konti, the way it looked so brilliant on them didn’t fail to leave her mind. Maybe, just for a day, she would like to see how it feels and looks on her?

And then, she heard her speak in the same language, kontinese. Oh it has been so long since she had spoken in this language and actually received an answer in it. Sure, she had little knowledge in it, Tia had failed to completely introduce her to it and truth be told, Amelia was never the brightest of students so it was a challenge to teach her a language that didn’t quite mirror her own. ”my friend teach me, that a konti must be free in her father arms” as she finished the sentence she was a bit embarrassed, to not know exactly how to state her thoughts. It was so hard to have so much to say, yet not be able to explain it, to say it. Still, she continued trying.

”I can, he not easy to make pleased, but I think….I can think of something” thinking over her own words and what she could say to Valerius in order for her to help out. Maybe if she sent a letter to him? Or…oh she was lost. ”he not be angry, I promise” she wouldn’t ask for the woman to speak in common, she cherished this chance too much. But if her kontinese was horrible enough to make the woman want, Amelia to speak common, she wouldn’t protest. ”what job he give you? What you have to do?” so she would see, had she any reason to actually spend time with the konti.

[Melenna]

“His task is a secret one, and so I have all the more pleasure in divulging it.” Melenna smiled as she continued on in her native tongue, finding the tone of the woman intriguing. It seemed the woman had the basics of Kontinese firmly down, and her earnestness, that quirking of her face as she tried each foreign syllable was simply delightful. “Valerius has something of a sweet tooth, and so I was to go to the bakery to fetch him some sugar cookies. He was very specific of their quality, and so I am to keep a sharp eye and to buy from only reliable sellers. How he expected that from one who has scarcely set a foot in this market is well beyond me, but you can be sure he will punish any disappointment as he sees fit.

“Since you also seem to be out in the market, I suppose we could both help each other. Just tell me to which store you are headed and I shall happily accompany you.” Here, Melenna offered a curtsey with a flourish of her ankle, offering her arm to the woman. She had no clue about the cultural norms of Ravok, and thus found nothing strange about two women walking arm in arm while shopping—such was common enough in Mura, after all.

[Amelia Cross]

No doubt, Amelia was struggling with the speaking part. But she did try to answer ”I know a shop that sells sweet, I can show you” she explained with a way that forced an awkward smile on her face, that didn’t quite fit the overall appearance of the woman. She seemed to be a bit too noble to ever be confused, or so she liked to think.

”I fortuneteller, looking for customers” explaining as good as she could ”also find a book, I was” Her words couldn’t come out too forced, the language of the konti was gentle and sounded good even when one didn’t know it well, but the konti before her must have been a bit confused with her choice of words and phrasing ”sorry, my tongue bad” ‘tongue’ used as the term language, but would the konti understand?

When the girl offered her the arm, it was unusual. Amelia remembered walking hand in hand with Tia, but she had stopped doing it when she was around 13, assuming the older girl just wanted to make sure little Amelia didn’t run off…what was sort of a common occurrence for the girl who had her head in the clouds. And if she wanted to keep the girl safe, walking hand in hand was not really an option. If another brut would bother them, she wouldn’t be safe and couldn’t convince them that she was her slave…but, she really wanted to walk hand in hand. Maybe it was something to do with her recent dreams of her konti friend, but this just seemed to be…a nice gesture.

After arguing with her own mind, Amelia decided that she could take the hand. There in her head, there were still insecurities that lingered. But the voice was shadowed by memories. ”let we go” she smiled, gently pulling the girl along her as she lead her towards the one bakery shop she knew, well, the second as the first was the studio.

[Melenna]

“Yes, let we go.” Melenna giggled—the oddest, lightest, heartfelt sound she'd uttered for some time. Her new friend didn't speak the smoothest Kontinese, but who could blame her? She was getting along with the tongue just fine, after all, and frankly, the Konti had seen tourists do worse. Yes, so many awkward memories, but more prominent than those were the smiles she remembered, the looks of wonder from those that saw the sparkling white homes and swan boats for the first time. Holding a friend's hand, talking about sweets and fortunetelling... perhaps in a way, she was back in Mura.

“I find this talk of fortunetelling most curious, though.” Melenna fell back into the common tongue, finding it needful to give the poor woman a break as they walked. “For as you may know, many of my sisters are gifted with Avalis' touch. It is said some among us can see Chavena, and that is to see all that ever was, is, and could be. Are you such a one, or perhaps you have different methods of interpreting fate?”

OoC: Blaaah, sorry for the horrible small post after such a wait! Moving and internet and all sorts of other stuff have kept me away. I'll do my best to be more prudent with posts!