Closed A lady's first bar fight [Altaira]

[Daniel Connor]

56th, 513 av Daniel was at his usual place at the end of the bar of the Rearing Stallion, looking for the answers to his troubles in the bottom of a glass. Preferably one filled with a strong, hoppy beer. He stroked his carefully groomed stubble, deep in thought about his last job. It had gone well, he had gotten paid, but he had slipped up. He accidently killed a bystander, granted, who was defending his real target. He mutttered a curse under his breath; this is not how he went about his buisness. Like all things, good things come to an end, or more specifically, his refreshment. He tapped on the hard, smooth surface of the bar, giving the tender a small nod, and got his empty glass replaced with one full to the brim. This process was repeated twice more before something managed to lift Daniel from his thoughts, and his beer, bringing him back to the present. A woman had walked through the door, not the kind of woman that should be hanging out on this part of town this late night. What might be a nice enough neighborhood during the day sure showed its face when the sun did not shine. The other occupants of the bar had quieted their talk, turning to look at the new arrival. Conversations started again abruptly when the bartender, a big, sturdy man he was, cleared his throat and asked in a gruff voice, "Er, what can I get for you, miss?" Daniel did not catch her reply as she sat down a few stools away from him. The room having returned to normal, he turned his attentions back to his sweet, filled glass. Minutes passed uneventfully, the woman ordering something to quench her thirst, random groupings of people talking about who knows what. "Hey, why is a girl as wonderful as you sitting all on her lonesome? C'mon! Sit with us! We won't bite, at least, not until later!" Daniel turned to look at the man who had said this, and saw a group of 4 surrounding the woman. The bartender had gone into the back to restock, so they must have decided now was their chance to make their move. The men had erupted into drunk laughter after the, what he assumed to be, the leader's last comment. The girl murmured a reply, presumably telling them off, making their laughter die down. On man grabbed onto her shoulder, the others egging him on. Daniel stood up, his body strong, yet relaxed, “Gentlemen, let the lady enjoy her drink in peace.” “Or what, tough guy?” the leader sneered, “You’re going to tell your mommy?” The man through a heavy handed punch at him, seeming slow and sluggish to Daniel. He swatted the man’s arm (right arm) across his body, exposing his attacker’s side. He quickly followed with a left jab to the man’s hanging ribs, his fist a blur. The man gasped, his ribs broken, stumbling to the floor. He would live, but the next few weeks would be no party. He assumed a ready stance, facing the injured man’s three companions, who were now looking at him with murder in their eyes. “Who’s next”, Daniel said, his eyes flashing to a fiery red.

[Altaira Readva]

Regret was already welling in her stomach when she sat down. There were few others sitting at the bar itself, with a half-drunk-looking man a few stools away, and another few seated half a dozen further. There was an odd silence that had taken over the place, and she used it with pleasure to scope out the exits. She took a few, quick breaths, eyes as gently as she could manage on the bartender. “Er,” the man drawled, a look of confusion that had Altaira feel even more alien in the place. “What can I get for you, Miss?” He sounded more confident as he spoke, and the roaring silence broke and chatter returned. All seemed well enough.

She drummed her fingers on the counter for a moment, unsure what to expect in terms of quality from the place. She was, indeed, well out of her comfort zone. Her preference was sweet wine, but the hour of the evening had her lean towards a substance of less delicacy. “Just a mug of beer, if you will,” she gave the man a winsome smile, paying what was due, and took a hefty swig.

There was a bitter twist in her mouth, but it was nowhere near as unpleasant as she’d imagined it. Even still, it was nowhere as effective at dulling her senses as wine was – her hypersensitivity yet t be the slightest amount affected, alerting her of a set of hoggish footsteps coming her way. She quickly sought the bartender, a man who seemed kind enough, drowning out the white noise as she focused on the use of her eyes. No luck. "Hey, why is a girl as wonderful as you sitting all on her lonesome? C'mon! Sit with us! We won't bite, at least, not until later!” His speech was slurred and breath a foul stench, and Altaira needn’t turn to survey the group to get their numbers in mind.

There was a fit of laughter from the other men, as though their pig leader had just told some grand joke. She played with the numbers in her head. Four wasn’t too many, but nowhere as easy as one or two, and if they were stone drunk, then they shouldn’t have been too much a problem. Worst comes to worse, she could always get clear fly for it – her clothing choice being her bright, airy dress. Although, she reminded herself, the shorts she wore underneath might prove to be a problem.

Her final verdict was to act cordially, and to avoid a fight where possible. The authorities would approve of that, right? She gave them a hard glare, yellow-amber eyes narrowed in disgust, only the softest edge as she attempted to appear apologetic, of sorts. “No, thank you.” The laughter ceased, and the man’s lip curled, and he took a sharp grip on her shoulder. Anger hit her, and she would’ve clocked the drunk had it not been for some kindly intervention.

“Gentlemen,” A voice rang out, accompanied by the sound of someone standing abruptly, “Let the lady enjoy her drink in peace.” He was a tall man, with a stern figure and strong build, his face accented by dark stubble and pale blue eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks showing him to have been drinking some bit, himself.

The head of the drunken lunatics spat his insults, retracting his hand and wheeling towards the man. Altaira let herself watch onto the little scene, a heavy sigh of relief escaping her lips as the one who’d so kindly intervened knew what he was doing. There was a crack following by gasping, and the man duly fell to the floor.

The man gave his own taunt, eyes deepening to a blood red. ‘He’s a Vantha,’ she mused, almost so caught in her little wave of nostalgia that the situation was lost on her. She heard movement behind her, and managed to make it out of her seat in time enough to hook her foot around the next contender’s leg, swaying him. She almost pouted as the man somehow caught himself, his head low but gaze quickly rounding on her, with the second on the remaining three using the moment to slip by and go for the Vantha.

Altaira took in a distasteful breath, and focused most on her own little opponent. She didn’t have much time to move, and swiftly balled her hand into fist, and brought it down not-so-gently upon the man’s skull. Her hand erupted with pain, but the injuries on either party waren’t enough to seriously injure, but it would keep the man well and truly out of the game.

The roaring laughter from onlookers helped fuel the kelvic’s adrenaline, piquing as the drunken moron made a heavy thud to the ground. She felt a slight twitch, and barely managed to dodge a well timed punch, the last of the three deciding that he’s rather take his changes with her, over the Vantha. She couldn’t really blame him.The man was tall and built, but she supposed that her little partner in crime still had a bit on him.

She moved straight into a defensive rhythm, and scolded herself for falling into old duck-dodge-get-out-of-the-way patterns, before the man swung her the perfect punch. It was a sloppy strike, far off to the right; a typical brawler’s punch, lots of power and no direction. She shot out and took a firm hold of his wrist, wincing slightly, before manipulating his power and she swiftly twisted his wrist clockwise.

The man rolled with his arm, and Altaira kept her hold hard and firm as she drew his arm behind his back, the man now writhing in pain but in no real position to act. You can’t make noise in a tavern without being heard, and she’d rather be found in a position that at least feigned self defense.

[Daniel Connor]

Daniel looked over between punches to see how the lady was fairing. He grinned, she was doing just fine against her opponent. The man in front of him had had some combat experience in the past, and was proving a match for his punches and kicks. He blocked a jab to his throat and but a fist snuck under his defences, heading for his gut. He tensed his abs and the blow was mostly absorbed, his muscles screaming in protest to the sudden impact. He ignored the pain, and altered his djed flow to his arms, he was careful not to even get close to overgiving. The arm the blocked his next punch was broken, and the man screamed in pain. Thank god it had broken, or his fist would have been hurting. A quick blow to the man’s temple had him out for the count. The woman was now struggling with two opponents, did these men have no honor? He evened the odds by hitting a cluster of nerves on one of the men’s back, and he crumpled to the floor in pain. He was glad his mentor had taught him that one. The woman finished with the other one, and he spoke, a little out of breath from his hard fight, “Hey, we should-” “YOU TWO! OUT OF MY BAR, I AM CALLING THE GUARDS,” the bartender bellowed, he had walked in to see them standing in the center of a crowd of bodies laying on the floor. “-get out of here! Fast!” he finished, taking her by the hand and leading her to the door at a run. Soon, they were bent down in an alley some ways away, all of the running at fighting had taken away most of their stamina. They looked at each other and grinned, his eyes turning a sea green. “Nice job back there, those men did not know what hit them. I hope they did not cause you much distress, the uncouth way they came on to you back there,” he praised, growing more somber as his speech went on. “What is your name, miss?” He finally took the time to look her over, finding that she was indeed quite attractive, though that might have not exactly worked for her this night. He smiled to himself ruefully. Sometimes the greatest blessings seem a curse in the right light.

[Altaira Readva]

It was a loud, booming voice that had Altaira sway slightly and return to the real world, and she gave a short glance to the bartender, and the few others who wore heavy scowls that stood by him. She heard the Vantha speak in rushed tones, egging her to hurry and leave before grabbing her by the hand and making a break for it.

She had expected him to drop his the hold once they were out of harm’s way, giving her ample time to slip off and return home, but the Vantha seemed to be in a rather elated state, and didn’t drop his grip until they were safely tucked away in an alley way.

The man’s eyes finally faded from shock red to what seemed to be a shade of green, and his grin was infectious. He gave her appraisal, and she couldn’t help but feel the inflation of her ego, only to have it crash back down when he mentioned the dirty fighting that had occurred. But what was she to expect? Bar fights are bloody and dirty, and the style of fighting that is bred in such places is more about who wins than who plays fair. But Gods, she was glad she didn’t have her knives on her – things could have gone a lot differently.

He asked for her name, and she felt that she might as well give it. “Altaira,” She said, straightening her back as she inspected her damage, only the shadow of a smile still clinging to her lips. “Altaira Readva.” She was out of breath and slightly pained, the soreness of her hand something that she’d have to investigate and see to at the store. “And you?” She asked, raising and eyebrow at the man, half expecting a name much alike those she heard growing up in Avanthal. “You’re quite the distance away from Avanthal,” She quietly mused, before thoughtfully adding, “But then again, so am I.”

[Daniel Connor]

He raised his brow at her, suprised that he was recognised, and that she was of his home. To test her, he slipped into the musical speach of his homeland, Vani, "Are you from Avanthal? What hold do you hail from?" He then introduced himself in common tounge, "I am Daniel Skyglow, now Connor. I had it changed so I could better fit into my life here, but I wear the name Skyglow with pride." Thoughts of his home filled his mind, watching the night sky light up with shimmering colors, songs echoing across the ice and snow. His eyes turned swurling mix of blues and greens, mimicking the aurora. "That was fun, but where will you go now? Will you seek out more trouble, or is your lust statisfied?" he asked with and amused tone to his voice, he leaned against the wall of the alley. "You do not really look like any Vantha I know, yet you say you made your home in the north. Tell me, what race are you?" he emplored. Daniel only realised how much he had wanted to know this. She looked, exotic. If you did not look at her very closly, you might not see it, but now, he noticed something deeper. He took a minute to further examine her form, her eyes were the most interesting, seeming to be rounder than usual. Altaira must have an interesting family, he mused, wondering what they looked like. He quitly hummed a tune in Vani under his breath, a song that told of a coming winter, and the drink that it would take to ignore the cold.

[Altaira Readva]

"Oh," She said, making a point of swinging back the same tongue tone of surprise, giving herself a moment to marvel at the rick colours of the Vantha's eyes. "Now that, I wouldn't have guessed." She gave a slight giggle, before parroting back her own name, also in common - almost laughing at the blatant similarities to their tales. "I hail from Whitevine, though I go by Readva. It reads more as a mid-name than last, I've found. Which it quite fair enough, given that it was my mother's."

She pressed her lips as another question was posed, cracking the slightest smile as thought on his words. "I am very well done for this evening," She mused, straightening her back, and drinking the cool air. "I'd hate to give the Syliran Knights reason to question me," again.

The next question over throw her a little - she always though her kind was more or less easy to pick, though she had to admit, it wasn't as though she would have picked the man for Vantha had she not witnessed the colour change of his eyes first hand, nor heard the slight Vani twang as he spoke a few delicate words. "Kelvic," She said, finally, allowing herself to expand on detail. "My, and my brother's and sister's, allowance into the Houses were a special case. My eldest sister and father are dire polar bear kelvics, I thank the Winter Goddess she was so kind to us. I'd doubt that we'd have been as warmly welcomed to our respected houses had she not openly encouraged it."

She then gave a slight smile to herself, shrugging her shoulders in mock misunderstanding. "My sister was blessed with a base species of a dire polar bear, as it were predicting, another sister is a large feline, brother a wolf, and then my younger brother and I were born birds out of their element." She giggled lightly, her next words rolling off her breath like a sigh, "He always hated the cold."

She pressed her lips and shifted the topic on, answering her own question just after posing it to Daniel. "Tell me, if you will, do you live up to your House's name? Or have you shed your profession as you have your name? I tried hard to leave to mine, but in the end I fell back into old rhythms. I'm just as much a herbalist now, as I were in Avanthal." She was interested in genuine, curious as to how one who takes such pride in his house conducts himself when severed by its direct influence. Did he wish to make those within his house proud, or did he choose to explore his other interests?

[Daniel Connor]

Altaira’s accent was a little clunky, like common had, but she did know the words, and it warmed his heart. He would speak in his own tongue from now on, he decided. He prefered Vani over common. He thought comparing the two languages was like saying a stone was like a sapphire. ”So you try to stay within the law? Somehow I doubt that,” he teased, giving her a wink of his electric yellow eyes. But, as much as he was joking, it was true. He had known her for under an hour and in that time they had beaten men and ran from the law. The line between criminal and legality was one Daniel frequently walked. He had been careful not to fall one way or the other. He grinned, a Kelvic! He had had a bond mate in the past, but one day she had just vanished. Poof. She had left a hole in him that needed to be filled. He had patched it by busying himself with training and his work, but, after all, painting over a wall did not change what was underneath. He had trouble moving on from her, as anyone who courted could not hope to measure up to his bond. The intimacy the bond brought, not only in body, but linked at the mind too. Someone to share every thought, every emotion with was not a small gift. He wished for it again. Though, he had met Kelvics that did not know much about themselves, he wondered if Altaira was like them. So, furrowing his brow, he inquired, ”Do you know much about Kelvics. I mean, you are one, but about bonding and the like. I used to have a bond, and she educated me on the subject.” It was interesting to hear about her family. He had only know his in his preteen years, so it was refreshing to listen to someone speak fondly of theirs. At her next question, he frowned. He had not really thought about it. He had once been a respected musician, a trumpet player, in his community. But now, his skills had become rusty with disuse. “Alas, I have not played my horn since my father was killed. Every time I do, it brings back memories I would not relieve. Though, I suppose it has been long enough to give it a shot.” His face lighting up, he said, “An herbalist, in Avanthal? Those must be some fine snow plants you have been cultivating up there! But yes, I doubt I would make my hold proud. I am a mercenary. When I came here, after fighting to live for so long, I found that it was all I knew.”

[Altaira Readva]

Altaira had to stifle a grin, at that one. But she was quickly feeling an inkling of guilt, and wondered how long she was going to last before she felt the need to come clean with someone at the store. It was just a bar fight, right? And those idiots had it coming. Surely she could escape at least some blame? "Oh, you have no idea" She sighed, recalling the lovely little run in she had with that squire, and bitter with herself for letting her Vani become so weathered and coarse.

He asked of what she knew of bonds, and she nodded shortly, her brow creasing. "I lack first hand experience, but both my parents are -were- kelvic." She shifted the weight of her head from side to side, thinking about how much she was willing to tell. "I understand the bond is not easily broken, and not it does not necessarily mean something more than a platonic love from come from it." She paused, "And that those who bond too early are never quite right." She pressed her lips into a fine line, wishing no more on the subject.

She felt a pang of guilt hit her hard in the chest, and she took in a sharp breath, finding some consultation in that Daniel did not seem too taken aback by the subject. She couldn't say the feeling was alien to her, but the deaths that had happened in her life were caused by nature - as apposed to being killed. She gave a single utterance on the subject, the one that humans seemed to like to give. "I'm sorry."

A mercenary. She nodded slowly, thinking quickly on all those she'd met thus far, and found that Daniel's mere putting into words of such a vital little instinct had her all the more closer to understanding humans. She then gave a hard look to the details of his face, glad for her eyes of great detail. "Contrary to popular belief," She began, yet to decide whether she was going to make a joke or try to be heartfelt, "Even old dogs can learn new tricks." She almost wanted to take back her words, but instead tried to look thoughtful, and apologetic at least. The last thing she wanted was to cause offence, but some things needed to be said. Or so she was told.

It was their first meeting, and the conversation was quickly getting personal. If it wasn't for the baffled kelvic in her, she'd have backed out long ago. She almost hated herself for what she was about to ask, a pick up in the draft reminding her how the man smelt thick of beer - reminding her of a drunken guard she once had to replace on a short caravan. "Are," She said, gut in her throat. "Are you quite alright with yourself?" It was a question she'd asked many others, including herself, a dozen times. Never once could she find an answer she was satisfied with, nor comprehend the feelings she had within herself.

occSo sorry! I am right in the middle of exams at the moment! D: It may be a day or so until I can respond again!

[Daniel Connor]

Daniel nodded, his eyes stormy at the girl’s apology. This conversation was getting rather heavy, though that was not necessarily a bad thing, ”It is hardly your fault, but thank you for the gesture,” he murmured, his body in front of her, but his mind was far above the clouds. Though he had drunk a few beer that night, he was hardly drunk, not even close to it infact. He had consumed them over a long period of time, and not to mention Vanthas had a high tolerance for alcohol. He was glad for his genetics, because he no doubt would not have been enjoying this conversation had he been tipsy. Even old dogs could learn new tricks, what was she going on about. Was she calling him old? Or doggish? It seemed a little out of context, but maybe he just had not learned all the ins and outs of Common yet, though he was fluent. So, to be safe, he settled with just a low hum of affirmation. He hoped that it was the right answer. To be honest, Daniel was happy with himself. Why would he not be? He had a good home, made a decent living, and had friends to drink with on occasion. Why would he not be happy? The question made him step back from himself and just ponder his existence. It brought up a lot of philosophical questions that he did not really know the answers to. ”I guess I am, alright is the word I would use. I do not have any reason to be complaining. I mean, I do not have money or power pouring out of my ears, but my place in this world is plenty big for me,” he answered finally, looking into her eyes, “What about you, are you fine with what you are?”

OOCEvery book you have every read is just a combination of 26 letters. *mind explosion* But sorry for not posting sooner, my mind made your day long absence out into 4 days. Sorry!

[Altaira Readva]

By the look that Daniel threw her, Altaira could pretty well tell the saying was lost on him. She was yet to grasp the expression of a wide spectrum of emotion, but she knew a look quiet befuddlement when she saw it - it was a look that she herself wore most of the time. There was a moment when she thought to repeat herself, but she thought it best to move on.

She listened to him speak of how he was with his life, he was rather humble for a merc, she thought. Often when she'd ask such a question she'd get one or the other. Half the time she figured the person she spoke to was lying through their teeth. Like a married woman who would claim that she was happy and in love, or a man of great arrogance that wished to sound far more discontent and pragmatic then he really was. She liked the ones that answered her like Daniel did.

It made her feel like the question was a weighty as she thought it was, and had her feel far less insecure about not quite knowing her own answer. "Yes and no, I suppose," She said, rolling her shoulders. "So far I am in love with my work, but I've been feeling rather inadequate as of late. I have a hundred and one problems with myself and the world," She took in a deep breath. "So I have a hundred and one things I need to fix. Some are little and simple, like learning how to haggle without causing offence, others are going to take a great deal more effort."

By that point, she had realised how far off on a tangent she'd strayed, and pulled herself back into line. "I'm usually quite alright with myself, as long I feel like I'm moving forward a little bit." She then pressed her lips together, and wondered similar of the Vantha. "I'm curious as to yourself and your work, I must admit," She began, having had conversed with those in his trade many times before, and finding his circumstances and demeanor rather intriguing.

"Will you be a sword for hire until your last breath, or is it more of a temporary job, a means to an end - if you will." She frowned, trying to tie in his personality, his reasoning behind his work, and the nature of the job itself. "You're quite unlike any sell sword I have come across," she gave a hum of amusement, "I really can't see you with greying hair and failing eyesight, swinging about whatever it is you use in several dozen years time. Do you intend to simply take life as it comes, or is there something in particular you strive for?" She gave him a look of genuine interest, finding him one of those few in the city that rung true and upfront, rather than bitter and conniving. There was a moment when she thought that perhaps she'd asked too much, over stepped some boundary that most human hold in high regard, and she once again bit back the urge to eat her words.

occIt doesn't matter how many times I hear it - for the next 24 hours all I can think is 'Holy sh**' XD
It's fine! No worries, mate!