[Soothing Waters] Lap Of Luxury (Matthew)

by **Razkar** on August 23rd, 2013, 2:48 am

"I appreciate the meal, friend!"

Razkar registered the tap on his back with a blink and a slightly-furrowed brow. He didn't know Matthew well and yet he already knew that behavior, that tone, the hand across his back was... un-Matthew? The sentence was delivered with just a little too much base, as if he'd forced it; louder, too, like... like he was trying to impress people watching?

No, Razkar thought with a small sigh, seeing the harlot try to flex and shake the pain out of his hand without looking obvious, because that's how he expects people like me to sound...

"So, what do we eat? What is this?"

"That," Razkar said with a nod, "is called 'beaver'. It is... like ground hog that live in water. They make dam... ah... like... bridge on water. But water not pass under. They live in it." He nodded again, more judiciously, eyes vaguely glazed as if in memory. "Meat is... not bad. Bit tough, but-"

"Oh, my petchin' meat isn't good enough now, is it?"

A woman who was a nation under herself folding arms like mutton chops over a chest that could have fed a battalion and regarded the Myrian and his guest balefully. Eyes like flint shards flickered over Matthew and but for a quick quirk of her brows... well... the human was quietly amazed.

Not even slightly impressed.

"You 'eard me, savage!" She said again, gesturing with a carving knife so smelly the harlot felt like gagging. "Bloody scandalous, it is! All your foreign sorts, comin' here, scarfin' my nosh an' wad'oo' I get?! Bloody criticisms! Well, you can take yer-"

"Peace, mistress!" Razkar stepped forward smoothly, arms raised as if he was placating a roaring tigress (an apt metaphor, gods knew). "Say about meat, not way meat is cooked. My friend, Matthew-" Razar, the rat bastard, actually pulled the harlot into the line of fire, a distraction and sacrifice all in one. "-has not been blessed with Mistress Meera's brilliant cooking!"

"Oh, sod off, Raz." The woman grumbled, scratching under her beard (yes, you read that right), and looking the human up and down with a sniff. A handful of customers were looking up from their greasy plats, always enjoying a little theater with their dinner. "You know flattery does sod-all with me. Your friend... he the funny sort?"

There was a long, contemplative silence... and then an awful moment of realization before Razkar almost vomited out: "No! Not... funny! Just, ah... like nice clothes?"

"Why's 'e so pretty, then?"

"... mother was pretty?"

"Hmm..." Razkar wondered how many children, grandchildren, sons-in-laws and husbands she'd cowed with that wordless sound. But there was a glimmer, a spark of humor behind those flinty eyes, and Razkar knew this was all part of her act. "If you say so..."

"Not flattery, maybe, but..." His hand delved into his purse and a handful of gold was suddenly revealed. "Beaver for friend, and Nabuto steak for me."

"Don' need t'ask if y'wan' it rare, do I?" Razkar just grinned and showed his fangs, eliciting nothing more than a grunt and the ghost of a smile. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... what you drinkin'?"

"Ale and a water. Have been in heat, so need water, too."

"Aye. Jaz'll take care a' ya," she said, nodding to the plump girl who'd fetched Matthew his water and couldn't look at the harlot's way without turning the same color as dried blood. "Otherwise, grab a seat."

"Kind as ever, Mistress."

"Gimme the petching gold."

Razkar flipped a couple of gold mizas up and those pudgy fingers moved faster than Matthew would have thought. The Myrian steered them to a table by the door, warrior predictably keeping his back to the wall, facing the doorway, stretching in his seat and giving a polite smile to Jaz. Two clear, still glasses and a tankard of frothing ale were plopped onto the clean (well, not dirty, anyway) table.

"There y'go, lads. Anything else at all..." Her eyes flickered swiftly to Matthew; another blush and Razkar hid his smirk in his first sip of ale. "... just ask."

"My thanks, Jaz."

She ambled off and Razkar said... something. A confused blink answered him. So Razkar repeated it. Twice. Finally, Matthew got the hint and said the word back. The Myrian shook his head and corrected him, but the guttural, chopped-apart-and-grunted tonal quality was... difficult.

Then again, Matthew was no fool. After a chime of practice, he said it perfectly... and Razkar grinned.

"Good. That is Myrian, since you want to learn. Means 'tiger woman'." He took another sip and nodded to Meera, now launching a verbal crusade against her cook and sixth husband. "Myrian word. But whole world has use..."

by **Matthew** on August 26th, 2013, 11:54 am

"Beaver? Groundhog? Dam? Lives in water?" He flinched away from it for a moment at the last part, but then just as quickly leaned in again, eyes pinned and processing. He was obviously putting a great deal of thought into his study of the thing, blue eyes darting quickly all over every inch of it as the wheel turned. He was completely oblivious to the woman at first, tilting his head almost in a full circle to get his idea of a 'better view'. He had never seen a tail like that one this beaver had. Come to think of it, he had never really seen any animal this fresh before. Did they go and hunt it every morning, or had it been sitting here for a little while? He realized that the people likely had to be great hunters in order to bag this many animals on a daily basis. Leaning over to Razkar, he whispered softly, not taking his eyes off the piece of meat quite yet. "Have you ever had to fight a beaver? Are they anything like the squid you told me about?"

Wait, there was a pressure of sorts in the air. Why was Razkar pulling on him? And why was there a woman with a knife? The harlot offered a strained smile, too taken-off-guard to even notice that his passive wiles had no effect on the busty and smelly woman. He glanced back and forth between the two of them as they continued to argue, eyes a bit wide and brow furrowed for the umpteenth time now. At the mention of him being funny, Matthew took on a serious expression, injecting himself quickly into the conversation. "Well, if the customer wants, I don't mind being funny. What does a Pycon name his Pycon dog?" Matthew paused for effect, then spoke with a bit of a triumphant edge to his voice.

"Fi-dough."

Instant silence overtook the little meat market, with the bearded woman and vicious savage staring, along with every other customer there. Matthew hesitated, then spoke weakly once more. "...like Fi-dough? Dough? Because Pycon are made of clay, and Fido is a common dog name...?"

The market, Razkar, and the woman all returned to their conversation. Just a tiny bit crushed, Matthew shuffled his feet and stared down at the ground. He was very out of place. He wasn't a very humorous person, and even he thought that joke was absolutely hilarious. He mumbled it under his breath, oblivious to the world as Razkar led him to his seat. Only after he heard foreign tongue gruffly pronouncing some sort of word at him did he look up, blinking. He repeated it, and then repeated it again, and then eventually managed to get the hang of it. He had to almost growl to get the pitch of the words correct. They had a definite animal-like quality to them, which was hard to replicate for the usually perfectly-phrased words of the elegant harlot. After he was praised and the word was explained, he stared down at the table, noticeably a bit bothered by the lack of cleanliness. He kept his hands folded in his lap, and kept stealing glances from the table to Meera. After a moment, he glanced up at Razkar, words still quite soft. "If I offered to clean, do you think she would be offende-"

The woman was at their sides suddenly, somehow moving her mass of a body without Matthew noticing. How had she even gotten here so quickly? Two massive slabs of meat were thrown in front of the two men, and then the woman walked off to distribute some more of the meat. It smelled quite nice, and Matthew actually liked his beef (beaver?) rare. However, where was the tableware...? A few glances around soon showed that the only one using a fork was a nearby child. The only thing every else was using was a sharp knife of sorts that was already stabbed into the meat. Eyeballing it, Razkar would notice that the gears were turning again. He craned his head this way and that, examining it like it was some sort of complex invention. After a few silent moments, he reached out and grabbed the knife, then quickly went to work. Apparently his examination had given him some sort of idea, because before long, the beaver chunk was dissected into nice little squares that Matthew was daintily poking with the knife and slipping into his mouth to quietly chew. The harlot had reliably taken a somewhat unsophisticated task and found an elegant way to do it, of course.

"So, Edreina mentioned you had someone you were promised to? What happened?"

One look at the harlot's face would show that he wasn't at all brave, he was just completely and utterly clueless about touchy subjects. He just sat there, eyes steady as he politely chewed his meat. It tasted like chicken, which was odd. It had the color of beef.

by **Razkar** on August 28th, 2013, 12:23 am

Razkar tried, he really did, but he couldn't help but smile as Matthew's intellect attacked the steak with the same single-minded thoroughness as it did everything else. The knife sticking into it was carefully examined from all angles, weight and length taken into account and logged away into memory... the meat was sniffed and prodded gently, tested and re-tested.

"Gods, barbarian," Razkar said with a dramatic groan, gesturing desperately to his own steaming hunk of cooked flesh, "While we are young, yes?!"

Finally the harlot picked up his knife but, to Razkar's exasperation and yet complete lack of surprise, even then he couldn't do it fast or easy. The steak was neatly sliced horizontally and then vertically, two dozen of so precise cubes of meat replacing it. The human skewered one and chewed thoughtfully... Razkar hanging on every grind and churn of his jaw...

"So? Is good?" He got a brief nod in reply and almost sighed with relief. "Ah... good-"

Razkar's steak didn't come with a thought; Old' Meera knew her customers. So there was nothing in the way when Razkar picked up the steak with both hands and bit a chunk out of it.

Matthew's jaw froze as he watched those sharp, filed points go into action. Part of him had to admit that, from a practical standpoint, they were much more effective than regular teeth, slicing through gristle and cooked muscle with aplomb, a sharp jerk of Razkar's head ripping free what his teeth could not make do of.

Another part of his mind was not as analytic, or coherent. It reminded him of sharks and hunting dogs and all those monsters he'd imagined under his bed when he was a boy, made up of teeth and malice.

An appreciative moan that was almost perverse in its depth rumbled from the closed mouth of the Myrian as he chewed the latest hunk. All in all, Razkar was in a fairly amiable mood. Good food, good company, a clean body and he had yet another chance to practice his Common. Granted, he couldn't be relied on to lead a lecture in medical tracts or anthropology records, but-

Then Matthew ruined the moment by asking about Aya.

Black, hooded eyes swiveled his way but the Myrian saw no malice nor overbearing investigation in the harlot's eyes. Gods... it really was stunning how a man so innate with the affairs of flesh could be so fumbling and base when it came to know when to just shut the petch up.

A sigh, so at odds with the contentment of before; long and drawn out and heavy with memories and regrets. The Myrian's hands lowered, bloody beaver dripping and oozing down his fingers. He looked beyond the human, past the door and to the dirty, constricted sunlight that still managed to pierce the walls and ceiling of the Stormhold.

"Not just one thing, I think." He said eventually, marshaling his thoughts carefully and then converting them to Common. "We left jungle together. Swore we-" he flinched, memory of his promise like a silent scream that accused him of... what, exactly? What was there to accuse? "-would... stay in mind of each other. In heart. But has been a year and no word or letter. Nothing..."

Matthew's ears pricked at the strange strain in the Myrian's voice. It was almost pained, as if he had pulled a muscle or was fighting some infirmity. But the male before him was the very picture of vitality and healthy; what could ail him so? And that sigh, the shake of his head as if... defeated?

Once again, a word he thought would gain no purchase on Razkar, but there it was, writ large on his features...

"You do not talk to many people, do you?" A pause, then a small shake of the head that grew a grimly amused chuckle from Razkar. "Heh, I can see now. Understand. Thing about... females, and males? Males do not like talking about it. Just, ah-"

"Top you up, lads?"

The two of them looked around sharply and found Jaz standing over them and... had she lowered the neckline of her dress since last she'd been to their table? Razkar frowned, cocking his head to one side. Yes, he was sure of it. He could certainly see more of... ahem... her, though she was angled mainly towards-

Ah. Well, yes. She would be.

"Yes, mistress, I-"

"Don't believe I've seen you here, handsome," the red-cheeked and flustered barmaid said to Matthew, leaning down a touch to give him a full and unobstructed view, eyeing him up like he was the steak. "And you would be...?"

Razkar looked down sharply so Matthew wouldn't see the grin that spread across his face, suddenly becoming very interested in his meal. Oh, Matthew, and with the she-wolf Jaz, no less? This will be fun...

by **Matthew** on August 28th, 2013, 9:07 pm

Barbarian. Matthew considered the word while he patiently chewed his meat. He was the type who actually counted the number of chews. 29, if anyone else bothered to count. He didn't see why it was such a big deal. He often got the impatient looks that Razkar was giving him right now. Why was it such a bad thing to make sure you completely processed your food? Would they rather him get a piece of beaver lodged in his throat, and then have to deal with his convulsing body flopping all over the tables and floors? He heavily doubted it. He was enjoying the meat anyways, so the number of chews he always made sure to take only helped him savor the flavor longer. The more he ate it, the more it set itself apart from chicken. It was kind of an odd mix between chicken and cow, though that was probably because he had little else to compare it to. And then he was treated to the sight of Razkar digging in.

It was both terrifying and fascinating. It was terrifying because he never realized that the pointed whites were actually unnaturally sharp. Did Razkar file them? That would certainly make it easier for the savage to rip Matthew's throat out with just his mouth. He was also fascinated by how well it seemed to work. Were the flat edges of human teeth actually impractical? They certainly chewed up food well enough, but Razkar's could be used as a weapon. They could also be used to pick bones clean, apparently. His mind wobbled between each thought, from silly to practical. Perfect for gobbling out throats. Perfect for picking every bit of meat clean from the bone.

He thoughtfully plucked another one of his little cubes from the plate and slowly put it into his mouth. His gaze was a bit distant as he judged the effectiveness of his teeth. He would file his, if he didn't think potential customers would be scared away by it. Perhaps he could try filing one or two in the back. Like little fangs, sort of. He can imagine certain types would appreciate that. His mind drifted back to the present as Razkar explained a bit about the commitment that had apparently been made. The harlot nodded, though he didn't look like he understood at all. "I see. Why would you pledge yourselves to one another?" He tilted his head, waving his hand in the air to dismiss any explanation that involved like or love. "It is enough to silently understand that you feel some attraction to one another. A verbal commitment... afraid that the other will find someone else? I suppose the method you two decided upon would relieve that for a time. And so now you feel..." Matthew's eyes sharpened, going a place that Razkar may not like. The savage wasn't being picked apart again, just like Matthew had done to the beaver. "Guilt. Ah. And she feels it as well... I see. Do you know where this woman is? She is obviously a thorn in your side." He didn't mean it in an offending way, once again. It was just the way things were. She was something that hadn't been heard of in a year, but was still bothering Razkar and Edriena. A non-existent problem, quite literally. Well, she still existed. Just not nearby.

Matthew perked an eyebrow at Razkar's question and odd chuckle. "I suppose not that often. Males don't? You seem to be doing well with it. Though, that would explain why you looked so... interesting earlier." He was referring to the death glares he had been given, of course. The harlot took a swig of his water, and then politely held the cup up just as the barmaid appeared. Noting the tone in her voice, he instinctively turned to face the potential customer, and was met with a rather open view of cleavage. She had either changed dresses or tugged this one open quite a bit more. He hadn't been paying enough attention when he had first walked in to be able to tell now. And the way she was leaning... she knew what she was doing. Matthew blinked at her, then blinked at Razkar, noticing the man was suddenly very interested in the table. Well then. If Jaz was the forward type.

The harlot turned and moved upwards, lifting up in his seat a little, eyes catching Jaz's and holding them. She recoiled for a second, but was calmed with a gentle touch to her wrist, eyes widening as she noticed the look in Matthew's eyes. It was a familar look to anyone who had been kissed before, especially since the look was directed at her lips. She had moments to react, but let herself be swept up by it, the air changing to one heated by a sensual fire. He swept her up in his presence and took her with a simple touch of the lips, body pressing firmly to hers as he brazenly kissed her gently. It was but a moment, and then he sat once more, looking innocent. Jaz was trying to figure out how to react, but Matthew kept it going with a soft and playful smile. "Matthew. A pleasure. I apologize, something just overtook me there. If you need to strike me, do so. I usually try to at least wait until the second date before I am overcome with attraction." It was absolutely corny, but Matthew's delivery was confident and pitch-perfect. His sincerity made it seem extremely genuine. It only helped that he had the stones to completely skip the opening looks and lines. It made sense though, when he played it like he did. Overcome by the girl.

"You have excellent beaver, by the way." The girl's eyes widened and she flushed an even darker red, only to realize what Matthew actually meant when the Mistress of the place yelled out from somewhere in the back, her timing rather perfect. "Glad ya like it, pretty boy!"

by **Radiant** on October 4th, 2013, 9:10 pm

Razkar :

Matthew :

Notes :

My radiance is not bright enough?

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, beam me a PM and we can work it out.

Skill	XP Earned
Socialization	+3 XP
Persuasion	+1 XP
Intimidation	+1 XP
Storytelling	+3 XP
Philosophy	+3 XP
Rhetoric	+3 XP

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	+4 XP
Socialization	+4 XP
Rhetoric	+3 XP
Storytelling	+2 XP
Philosophy	+3 XP

Completed [Soothing Waters] Lap Of Luxury (Matthew)