Beauty and a Brute

[Edreina]

"Rich lassies are only beautiful because they've spent their coin on my elixirs and powders and perfumes!" Some woman cried from the front of her shop as Edreina strode by, wandering from one little wagon packed with gifts to another covered with beautiful flowers; she found it to be utterly silly that women needed to coat their faces in gloss and powder to feel beautiful. Razkar was busy refilling things she could not even name, giving her the chance to wander off and explore on her own. After a few minutes, a particular stall across the road caught her eye, boasting brews from across the continent.

"Ah! A valued customer!" The man cried gleefully as she approached, causing her to smile in response. Vendors of alcohol tended to be the happiest sort, the redhead realized. "How can I help you?" The man was tall and thin, but not painfully so. If anything, his build and general demeanor reminded her of a Svefra, but the eyes were wrong. "I have spiced ale from the mountains, honeyed mead from the valleys, a new drink called White Lightning, brewed here in Zeltiva by yours truly! Anything you can fancy, I've got." A tip of his hat finished the boast and left Edreina to smile a small, thoughtful smile.

Razkar had said he would spoil her, would it not be fair for her to try to do the same? "Do you have Lethshine?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. At first, she expected the answer to be a negative, watching the man stroke his beard in a way nearly whimsical.

"And what would a pretty little thing like you want with so strong a drink?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned and threw the cover from his wagon, exposing jars and small barrels of an unknown sort. After a bit of digging, he emerged with three jars, face lightly flushed with triumph. "Last three I have, I'm afraid. Then again, sweetheart, I don't see you needing any more than-"

"How do I know they are real? Could be water for all I know." Sometimes, she could not help herself. Flirting for the sake of a sale was the least flattering form. The man's demeanor shifted ever so slightly, loosing the fake air of affection.

"Oh they are real. Here-" He popped the seal on one of the jars and held it out for her to smell. It took everything she had to keep her eyes from watering at it's strength. Yep... Definitely her lover's favorite drink.

"I'll take all three..."

"That'll be... 18 Gold, then." She could tell he was setting up to haggle but she cared not. Mouthing each number, Edreina parted out the coins and handed them to the man in return for a linen sack with a strap and three clinking jars wrapped in some sort of paper.

From there, she moved onto a far more innocent candy vendor, buying a pair of honey candies and placing one upon her tongue straight away with a small, satisfied sound. If Razkar did not want his, she would gladly take it off of his hands.

When her love eventually found her, his whispered words sent a shiver up her spine, making her skin tingle ever so faintly. Would that ever stop happening? She hoped not.

A response was on her honey-sweetened lips when she found herself ever-so rudely interrupted. Somehow, they had ended up in front of the shop of the woman who had been calling out to all who passed by chimes earlier.

"If it's a day of spoiling she wants," crowed the full-figured woman - How on Laviku's blue sea did she hear that? Could she read minds? Or... perhaps lips... She'd heard of some who could do such magic. - with bright, overly full red lips and hair so white Edreina doubted it's authenticity lured, eyes placed firmly and almost pointedly upon Edreina, "well there is no better place outside of the Riverfall Beauty Fest!" The Riverfall what? And she thought that these people were vain. "A young couple in their..." she hesitated, eyes nearly falling on Razkar before turning their iridescent and shifting shades upon Edreina once again, "-prime, should be at their best!" Apparently, she had nothing to comment on for Razkar. "And you, my darling, are nearly there! Your skin is so beautiful, we could banish those pesky freckles with a simple powder."

So dumbstruck by the entire situation was Edreina that she did not even realize her elbow had been caught and she was slowly being reeled towards the maw of the shop. "And your hair!" The woman exclaimed and, despite herself, a vain blush danced across the Svefra's cheeks. "My gods I would kill for such a color! But you've taken such wretched care of it..."

Hey now! Edreina stopped, planting her feet firmly, lips parted with disbelief. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I do not need your... ah... services." Reflexively, her free hand moved towards her whip - one good crack would scare this simpering creature off - as her heart accelerated, only to find that Razkar, the damned distraction himself, had caused her to forget it.

"Oh but you do!" An emphatic nod was echoed in her many chins and her elbow kept in a firm grasp. "You have so much potential." The word nearly dripped disdain, as if the shop keeper could simply not understand how a woman did not coat and color themselves. Which, as Edreina considered it, was likely true.

More firmly, Edreina's lips formed an annoyed line and a sharp motion pulled her elbow from the woman's clutches. Djed flared to life and a single, unrefined emotional cue flickered in her eyes as they met the shorter woman's: loathing. The one thing Edreina had come to truly hate about those who dwelt upon the land was their need to hide behind painted faces and sickly sweet scents. Her people embraced who they were; besides, any makeup would not last a day on the Suvan. "I am who I am. Makeup... elixirs" she used the strange word the woman herself had used earlier to drive her point home, "will not change that... The gods fashioned me to be who I am, and I am thankful for that... I don't need your services, but thank you." As politely as she could, without raising her nose, Edreina turned and trotted back to Razkar, eyes wide.

"Can you believe the nerve of some people?" She muttered under her breath as they beat a hasty retreat. "I mean really. If anyone needs makeup it-" She cut herself off, giggling and turning so that she was walking backwards in front of him, taking his hand in hers. "I think that this may have been a bad idea... Just maybe, though." Her wink was lightning fast. If he had not noticed the whispered clinking or the new bag over her shoulder before, he would as she spun to walk abreast him once more. "Any more errands to run? I have a surprise when we get back..." Her hip bumped his playfully, and a grin brightened her face, as it always did around him.



Receipt-18 GM - Lethshine
-1 SM - Candy

(c) Wanda Endust

[Razkar]

Oh, this is going to be fun...

In the past, he would have perhaps butted into the estrogen-exchange. Seen it as his male duty to protect his woman, defend her, whatever... but one of the wonderfully frightening things Razkar had discovered about Edreina was she rarely needed him to defend her. Some puffed-up serpent-oil saleswoman was unlikely to be any different. But more pressing than that-

"... we could banish those pesky freckles with a simple powder."

Edreina may have thought her lover had just choked on something; when she flicked a glare at him, though, he found his face red and suspiciously innocent...

Only when she'd turned back to her assailant (yes, definitely the right word) did he allow his blank features to crumble into stark and unashamed amusement. He shook his hair in wonder, black hair brushing his shoulders as he watched the scene unfold and-

Oh, no. She just mentioned the hair. He actually winced and crossed his arms. This just gets better and better...

Finally his Svefra snapped and the sales pitch was most definitely over. Covering his mouth with his hand, Razkar watched with amused pride as she walked over with her back straight and head high. They started walking again, skirting around carts and horses and pedestrians - though, to be honest, they just got out of the Myrian's way regardless - and he smiled warmly as she vented, feeling her jostle his hip...

... and he reached down to rest his hand on her waist from the other side, his hand snaking across her back, a warm cord of muscle built and trained for war but instead to gentle against her...

That warmth and peace he gained from her... it bloomed in him again, far more potent even that their heady and often furniture-damaging lovemaking. This went beyond the skin and cock and cunt; it spoke to their souls and their hearts. The ability they had to sit for bells in their cramped room, back to back, reading tomes or talking, just... holding hands. Walking by her side down a street with her so at ease with him.

The swells and Ladies (capitalized in their minds only) muttered and shook their heads as they passed. Razkar didn't glare at them anymore; he grinned.

You'll never know what this feels like. I don't hate you; I pity you.

"Oooooh, a surprise," he whispered, pecking her cheek with a chuckle, "I thought I was spoiling you? But no desire for pretty necklaces or rings, tonic and evil-smelling elixers, dresses and silks. You are a curious barbarian, no?"

His smile told her if there was anyone he wouldn't apply the term to, it was her... wait a tick, that was the key to it! Edreina wasn't the typical barbarian female he'd learned to disdain, so easily seduced and turned aside by trinkets. No, she was... so Myrian in many ways, so what better gift than-

"How about something different, huh?" He said suddenly, mischievous and manic look fresh in his eyes. Nearly everyone took a look into those black eyes and quailed; but for Edreina, they were joined by a hole family of crinkled cheeks and smiling teeth and childish joy, all directed at her. "Come!"

Without waiting for a response, he ran, and pulled her along with her, skidding over ice and around frozen horseshit and leaving scowling, grousing barbarians in their giggling wake.

++++++++++

"Welcome to... Oh. Erm, I, ah... didn't expect to be seeing you again."

Morty was not, by nature a brave man, but how many men could rightly came to be? Courage is oft born of the moment, not the man, and when that man sees a Myrian walk into his store only a bell after purchasing something from it...

"Isn't that meant to be 'so soon'?"

"Wh-What?"

Razkar spoke as he examined a curious musical instrument he'd seen before. Made of carved wood, it was bulbous at one end and tapered into a long, thin neck with what looked like garrote wire tightened onto it. He twanged one of them... and got a note.

Barbaric, but innovative.

"You are meant to say 'see you again so soon', yes? Otherwise, you imply you didn't want to see me ever again." Razkar walked with measured, ominous tread towards the counter of Morty's Bazaar and Emporium, taking a little savage pleasure in watching the man struggle for words. "What's the matter, my friend? Don't like me? Don't like my gold?"

"N-No, no, sir! Not at all, I just, that is, I mean, I, ah-"

"Morty." Razkar threw the man a line and held up a hand, guilt flashing briefly across his face. "I was making a bad joke. Don't fret. This is Edreina. I am her male."

Now Morty was speechless for a very different reason. Her male? He'd not heard that before... and there as no hint of further teasing on the Myrian's open face, hiding behind his polite smile. But he was a barbarian, after all: he didn't know that in the fierce matriarchy that was the Myrian race, masculine possessiveness was not only ill-tolerated, but unknown. Razkar was no exception.

Moreover, he had little problem with "being" Edreina's.

"Oh, nice to meet you, young miss!" Like a true salesman, Morty shifted from Apprehensive to Flattering in a moment, smiling with his uneven teeth and doffing his thatch of black hair. "Always glad to have such a pretty face gracing my humble store."

He glanced at the Myrian; a single raised eyebrow answered him. Well, that seemed fine. But he still wrung his hands a little and got back to business, tone a little more confident.

"So, um... what can I help you with?"

Razkar rested his arms on the counter and lowered his voice a touch: "Remember what I purchased here?"

"I do. Some rations and a fresh whetstone, wasn't it?"

Not a twitch or a tell as to what else Razkar bought. He made a note not to play cards with the man. He nodded and murmured again.

"And the other thing...?"

Now Morty's expression both hardened and softened. They were on his territory now, and caveat emptor worked in his favor.

"What about it?"

"I saw some other fine examples in that case you had in the back. Edreina, I am sure, would like to see them..."

Realization blossomed over the storekeeper's face, and he called out to his assistant: "John? Keep an eye on the store for a tick, hear me?"

A young, disembodied voice answered from behind a shelve of Eypharian statues: "Yes, boss!"

"Follow me, lady and gent."

He walked through the curtain of beads leading to the back of the store and Razkar turned to his lover. Mischief still danced in his eyes, the sweet, knowing anticipation that though his female was ignorant at the moment, once she was enlightened...

"Come. Definitely worth it..."

[Edreina]

Twisted though it was, Edreina also got a sick sort of pleasure out of watching how others seemed to squirm beneath the Myrian's eye. No one expected a mouth so filled with filed teeth to produce perfectly civilized Common nor the humor and wit that oft accompanied it. So, when Razkar finally pulled her into the shop, she blushed somewhat meekly, having been caught in the act of rudely enjoying another man's discomfort.

Fingers raised and did an odd sort of wave, highlighting the childish joy in her grin and dancing blue eyes. Had she still been out of sight, she would have burst into stifled chuckles at the look of confusion that warped the shopkeeper's face. It was as if two dolphins were playing catch with his vision's focus, making it bounce between the dark skinned, tattoo'ed, walking armory that was Razkar and the fire-maned, willow of a woman that stood sheepishly at his side. And he still said that he belonged to her? Strange foreigners managed to get stranger every day.

But, they were business and had to be treated as such. Besides. The Myrian knew how to drop a pretty miza; his lady was likely the same, maybe moreso, if you knew women. "I honestly have no clue. Razkar drug me here." A quick laugh tinkled from her lips and she shrugged, looping her arm through his and resting her hand on his forearm as her smile fell into a curious smirk. What on was Razkar playing at? She was certainly not interested in learning the lute in the foreseeable future.

It turned out that, after a rather shady discussion, Razkar had brought his lover to gaze upon the wonders of shiny metals.

"Where do I... ahm... start?" She asked in a voice too small for a woman looking to wield a mighty weapon, fingers knotting nervously as she shifted from side to side. Deep down, she wanted to run over and touch each one, hold it, "play" with it until she found the right one. But, that was far from professional and she did not feel like having Razkar roll his eyes at her, today. The shop lady thinking she had been enough of a crumpet to seek makeup was enough humiliation for one day. So, logically, she turned to the master to steer her in the right direction.

(c) Wanda Endust

[Razkar]

"Where do I... ahm... start?"

Razkar puffed out his cheeks and let out a breath, like he was wondering the same thing. Morty smiled smugly and folded his arms, leaning back against the wall and watching the two of them ogle the packed chest filled with his more... exotic and rarefied trade goods. The air about him changed like a wind had whipped across it; gone was the fear and apprehension. Replacing it was a calm, cool expression of knowing, in that everything touched he would be able to describe and (more importantly) price.

Razkar picked up a pair of needle-thin daggers with molded handles, shining steel half a foot long, filed to an almost-invisible point.

"Ah, nice little set, that. Very good, er, discreet weapon, if y'follow me. If y'know where you want to slide it, you'll get there. That's folded steel, too. You won't find any joints in armor close enough that it can't get into, and once it is..."

The Myrian turned the assassin's daggers over in his hands, then replaced them. No, they just... felt wrong, for Edreina. A fighter? Yes, of course, when she had to be. But a cold-blooded murderer? No. That wasn't her; never could be her.

He picked up something else, an odd-looking weapon that was basically a two-foot blade on one side, wooden on the other, but the hilt was at a right angle to the blade, maybe two-thirds of the way up the length.

"S'called a 'tonfa'." Morty cut in, seeing his customer's confusion with a businessman's shrewd instincts. "You hold it... like this, see? With the blade running down the underside of yer arm, so you can block with it and, er, stab with the front. Or hit, anyway. You can hold it normally, too, but s'nice t'have the option, I think..."

The Myrian nodded slowly, and thought the human was accurate and honest, if not eactly experienced. Morty wasn't a fighter. He just sold to fighters, supplied and armed them. But the world needed the former just as well as the latter, unless all warriors suddenly became blacksmith's, as well.

But still... not quite right for her, now wait a minute-

"What about... this?"

"Ahhh..."

Morty gave the pleasured sigh of an expert as Razkar hefted the vicious-looking dagger, serrated on the back, with a curve at the front and a broad, well-honed cutting edge. More impressive, though, was the hand guard. It fit close, but her smaller hands would have plenty of room... and there were four spikes fastened onto it, each one an inch long, pointed and cruel and Razkar grinned at the damage they could do, not to mention the slightly longer spike at the bottom of the hilt, a perfect skull-crusher if ever he'd seen one.

"Yeah, very special piece, that. Man I knew traded it 'ere for some rations and a barrel a' ale. Said he got it off a man in Sunberth who, heh, didn't need it anymore. As y'can see, I kept it in good nick. All of 'em, actually. Never know who'll be callin'..."

Razkar tested the weight and... yes, quite balanced. The spikes added an ounce or two, but the curve and heft of the blade itself easily evened it out. He reversed his grip with a single deft movements, stabbed, slashed, blocked, parried, cutting the air and smiling broader with each movement.

Very good. Moves well, would cut fine and-

Then he jabbed out in a blur of shining metal and tanned skin, slamming a spiked fist into an imaginary opponent. Morty didn't flinch; he just smiled. He knew when he had 'em on the hook after all. But he knew the Myrian wasn't the one he had to impress.

Razkar slipped his hand out of the guard and flipped the dagger over, catching it by the blade and offering it to Edreina. He shrugged lightly.

"What do you think?"

OOCThanks bunches to Edreina for my SWEET new boxcode!

[Edreina]

OOCI have something different in mind from what your picture detailed. Just bear with me.

Curved, obviously meant for slashing, not stabbing. That and the thickness of the handle and placement of the holes likely means I am to wield it in a reverse grip... Probably meant as a secondary weapon for when your first brings you in close... Could be useful with my whip or... Silently, Edriena analyzed the weapon as Razkar offered it. Her eyes had previously been locked onto a very familiar yet totally different piece of hardware until the Myrian caught her attention. Fingers slipped easily into holes slightly too large and she was briefly reminded of a similar weapon she had once seen a Svefra man wielding. He had said the holes were to keep from losing the blade as a ship tossed and rolled while he fought. But, her fist felt more solid than it had before, wrapped about the thick steel handle. Each loop of steel about her fingers only added to the image forming in her mind of being able to throw a punch without worrying over injuring her hand.

Turning from her love, she struck out once with the weapon, only to frown ever so slightly and do it again just to be sure. It made her hand heavier than she was used to, changing the way that it moved through the air... But, that was something she could easily learn and adjust to if given time. The only thing she worried over, now, was having the time to learn it. "You work price," she muttered to the Myrian with a smirk, knowing he was better at getting a deal than she, when it came to working with money. Fingers slipped from their armor and the blade spun through the air towards Razkar, blue eyes turning away with the knowledge he would catch it without a problem.

With that done and a satisfied smile on her face - she would definitely be thanking him later that night, for his present - she turned to the object of her earlier fixation. The wakazashi he had given her was a nice weapon but... far from what she knew how to use. Razkar did not know of it either, so he would have to learn it with her which would be a serious disadvantage. Until such a time as they were able to train together, she needed a true blade for her whip did not suffice as an instrument as death.

A gladius, however, did.

The Svefra found herself silently wondering if the blade before her was a gladius. It had the same shape, for the most part. But, it was thinner than Razkar's and it's tapering point started earlier than her lover's making it look more like a blade of grass. Then again, she had only the Bone Magic blade on his dark-skinned hip to base her assumptions on. In either case, it had the same basic shape and could surely be used, and taught, in the same way as a true gladius... With tilted brow she reached forward to take the blade from its place of rest.

It was cold, almost shockingly so, in her hand. The handle, blade, and simple pommel seemed to have been made from the same piece of metal and the curved hilt to have been added after. Even she could recognize that shape, she realized: it was used to catch and break an enemy's blade. But, all realizations and musings were lost as something suddenly... clicked, for Edreina. Her elbow twisted and the blade with it, glittering in a near-gleeful manner in the light. It felt... right. Moreso than Razkar's blade or her own whip, it seemed to fit her hand and be part of her arm. Gods be gilded, he was right... And all along she had thought Razkar's claim about a blade being part of the body to be bilge water.

"You have a keen eye, my lady," the shopkeeper said with a grin, recapturing Edreina's attention. "That there blade is forged from Cold Iron, one a' tha 'ardest metals y'll find outside a' Sultros. And, might I add, twas forged with tha delicate fingers offa beau'iful battle maiden in mind, it seems." The fact that the man had been trying to flatter Edreina was totally lost on the target, but it mattered not; she had already decided the blade would be hers. Deep down, Morty knew not what such an unassuming woman would want with a sword; probably had to do with pleasing the savage, as far as he knew. But, the lady's keen eye had also led her to a rather expensive piece and he knew that they both possessed more gold than they knew what to do with. Times like this, he was glad for the strange folk that came in through the pass and off of the sea.

"What do you think, Raz. Is it fitting of me?" She turned to him with a grin, head cocked to the side.

(c) Wanda Endust

[Razkar]

The Myrian watched her with a quiet pride as she gauged his offering to her. She felt the weight of it, felt how it molded to her hand and moved in the air when gripped by it. Then she reversed her grip, lashing out in the same way as he had before muttering in his own animalistic tongue.

"You work price."

Razkar smiled, both at his mother's tongue in his lover's mouth and the look of shock on Morty's face when one so far and... un-Myrian uttered words he generally associated with unrestrained savagery. More unnerving was the quiet, cold look of calculation the Myrian wore, clashing with the ink- and ash-scars dug into his face and bone piercings through his lip and nose. He'd seen it many times before, though.

In the mirror.

"How much for that beauty, Morty?"

"Well... specialist item n'all-"

"C'mon, Morty, no buggering about."

"Twenty gold mizas, and not a copper less or I'm robbin' meself."

"Twelve."

"I think I have a cream for temporary deafness, my friend."

"And I think there are other stores I can do to, my friend," Razkar said with special, venomous emphasis on the last words, patting his own gladius and then his purse. Both meaningfully, in different ways. "I know my weapons and I have the coin to be discerning. You're not the only back-room merchant in town."

Morty actually had the gall to look offended, drawing himself up (yeah, that was a laugh) and looking Razkar square in the... chin.

"I sell quality items, sir!"

"Then you'll accept... fifteen quality gold mizas?"

"Seventeen. Folded steel, that is."

"Fifteen and I'll buy another whetstone."

"Fine, fine, but-"

There was a silken, familiar sigh through the air; the barest scrape of metal on wood. Razkar's ears pricked and his head moved at the same moment's Morty's eyes flickered over his shoulder. Apparently, Edreina had found a new toy... and the Myrian was instantly jealous.

It was a gladius. He could have seen that in near-darkness, perhaps by the sound and glint of the blade alone. Razkar was not and would never be skilled in all weapons; he doubted any mortal had ever been, the sheer amount of years it would take to master them would fill lifetimes. But when it came to the gladii family, he truly was a master, and he liked what he saw.

It was an odd example, though, and he cocked his head as he studied the strange, thin blade. Clearly made for parrying and thrusts, rather than the chopping, hacking utility his own, broader blade. Certainly of barbarian make, but as Edreina whipped it through the air, he saw it was well-balanced and the curved, forward-jutting hand guard made him smile.

Sword-catcher, he thought, and he nodded his props, designed to capture an opponent's blade and, with one strong twist, break it or rip it from their hands. Very effective... and unusual. Gladii are usually thought too small for such an improvement.

Morty broke in with his flattering sales patter and Razkar nodded his understanding. Ah, so it had been designed for a female? Well, that explained its proficiency for thrusts. A female's litheness and lack of muscle would mean hacking and slashing would be tiring, even impractical. But finer, surgical lunges? Definitely possible.

At least among the barbarians. Among the Children of Myri, the reverse is true.

"What do you think, Raz. Is it fitting of me?"

The Myrian gave her the lopsided grin he shared with her often. Amused and impressed in equal measure. He circled her and noted her enthusiasm, her smooth movements, the light in her eyes and confidence she felt even though hand and weapon had only met, but might as well be married.

"Call thing 'weapon love'." He said in her tongue, and botched the translation. It was closer to "passion for master and weapon" in Myrian, but he was hardly a sodding expert in Fratava. "And you look like you have love, my wave..."

Morty's eyes glittered greedily again and the spark was still there when Razkar's own flickered back to him. "Cold Steel," he said airily, getting the merchant's attention again, "Sounds more expensive. Or, as you would say, more valuable." He smiled again, showing he was not so naive to merchant's sales talk as Morty assumed. "What would you want for such a blade, my friend?"

The human licked dry lips and his eyes flickered briefly but tellingly away and down. Razkar followed it to-

-Edreina's legs and he felt a flush warm his cheeks, his hand slide to his gladius out of sheer male pride, until-

The wakizashi. The sword from the slain Dhani. Ah... don't have one of those in your collection, do you?

"I, ah... think an arrangement could be made..."

[Edreina]

"And you look like you have love, my wave..."

The Svefra grinned and jabbered back in gleeful tone that can only be portrayed, in her opinion, in her native tongue, "The gods have blessed me with much love, these seasons..." Though she wished it were otherwise, Edriena had not the skill to test the blade's limits, only know that it felt right in her hand.

Pretending she was only mildly interested was out of the question, now. But, Edreina turned and slid the blade back into its fitted metal sheath, nonetheless. As her fingers left it, she noticed a faint etched inscription along the rim of the sheath in a language unknown to her. Perhaps this blade had a story.

"Normally," Morty began, scratching his beard with a faint sound that had always ground against Edreina's nerves, "I would ask a hundred and eighty gold-rimmed mizas for it. But, in exchange for that there wakizashi-" The Svefra could not help how she started at the mention of her unused blade. To her surprise, it had remained attached to her belt though she forgot her blade. Damn. If only she had noticed it when the snake-oil lady had been harassing her earlier. "-I'm willin to let it go for... half that... Call it ninety? I'll even toss in the knuckle-blade."

With an arched brow, she turned ever-so-slightly to Razkar. Immediately, she knew from his expression that he price was too high. "You play male with coin, I female in love with blade?" She growled with a smirk, hand perching on her hip. She then turned back to Morty, grin blooming once more upon her face. "That sounds pretty fair to me... I mean... I would really rather pay seventy but... Well, I don't have the coin." Her smile turned sheepish. "What think you, my darling?" Odd to hear such an affectionate term used on a Myrian, surely, and the sheer sweetness of it made Edreina want to roll her blue eyes. But, she was trying to play a part. Maybe those big blue eyes so desiring to roll at her own behavior would convince the shopkeeper of her sincerity; a little Djed added to heighten the effect surely could not hurt.

OOCAnd after I wrote that post against short posts... >.> Shame on me!

(c) Wanda Endust

[Razkar]

"Fifty."

"Oh, come now, be reasonable."

"For that blade? Very reasonable."

"Still two blades for one and a handful of-"

"Handful? Try a bag of handfuls, my friend-"

"-and I still need to sell it on, don' I?"

"Which you'll do, and for at least twice what you'll pay for it here?" The Myrian's lips quirked and an eyebrow arched with sly mirth. "I wonder what story you'll concoct for it. I can help, if you want. I took it off a Dhani outside Syliras. There was another to match it, but I cleaved it in two. Just like the Dhani, actually..."

Razkar let the sentence hang and Morty's imagination do the rest. He could see the wheels turning in those avaricious brown eyes: not just the profit he would reap from the wakizashi's sale, but the tale, ah, the tale that would go with it. Purchased personally from a fierce Myrian warrior! Crafted in the unknowable depths of darkest Falyndar! If you hold it to your ear, you can still hear the dying screams of the foul Dhani that-

"OK..." Morty said after a quick lick of his lips, putting out a hand. "Sixty... and that whetstone you mentioned!"

Razkar shook what was offered and handed over what he'd offered in return. Suspicious as ever (or "cautious", as Morty preferred to term it), the human unashamedly inspected each coin, just as he'd done when Razkar had walked into his store earlier, head bobbing in satisfaction when he reached the last coin. But his eyes were fixed on his newest acquisition, and Razkar nodded over to the enamored Svefra.

"My wave? Leave new love go for chime." He gestured to the nigh-unused blade on her thigh, then to the almost-salivating Morty. Gods, the man was actually rubbing his hands together. "Give old blade to man."

Receipt-60gm

[Edreina]

Razkar was starting to grasp her tongue but, had it not been for his gestures, she would have been lost as to what he meant. Finally, with a gentle shrug, she removed the wakizashi and handed it to a grinning Morty.

And then, just like that, the beautiful gladius was hers. Its sheath fit onto her belt and rested against her leg with a firm, reassuring weight. With their business done, Edreina led the way from the store, a faint spring in her step. Razkar truly had bought her the best possible gift. Petch makeup and fancy, fluttering dresses; petch paintings and clay works; petch jewelry and high-heeled shoes. Books and blades and beautiful places were all that really mattered to Edreina. Books were rare, the only ones she owned had been hand written by some forgotten mage. Beautiful places remained only in the eye of the mind, and that was enough, odd as it was. But blades... Blades could be learned and mastered, Razkar had proven. Blades could save a life or take one, proving them to be an instrument of both justice and morality, applicable only by the wielder.

The wakizashi had been about as useful to Edreina as a knife to slice her meals. She lacked the books or master to teach her how to use it. But this gladius... So many possibilities.

Smiling, Edreina had the decency to wait until they had left the street filled with tittering women to pull her blade free once again. It glinted and glittered maliciously in the light, whispering of the strength to finally keep herself safe. A grin claimed her face and she trotted a few steps ahead of Razkar, poising her blade before him. Carefully, she stepped backwards as he continued forwards. "I might finally be able to best you in a fight, hm?" The jest was met with a bright, cheerful laugh utterly contradicting the sharp, diagonal slash that accompanied it. With a twist of the wrist, she slid the blade back into its sheath and fell back into step with her love.

"They say all great blades have a name... Is that immediate or should it come with time?" She asked quietly, mind already turning words over, seeking some sort of title to fit her new chunk of metal.

(c) Wanda Endust

[Razkar]

"I might finally be able to best you in a fight, hm?"

The Myrian clutched his breast as if a wound did pierce it, shuddering on his feet in a way that made a few passing gentle-folk scamper a little faster. But rather than have the fit some were expecting (and most were hoping for), Razkar's fearsome face twisted into a gin and a laugh followed it.

"Ah, the day has finally come! Student shall surpass teacher and lay him to waste!"

The laughter was infectious; or at least, hers was. Razkar marveled afresh at how he never seemed to feel the urge to glare, glower or stalk in her presence. Even surrounded by barbarians, enemies of his people in nature if not by decree for centuries, the Myrian walked with an easy gait, almost like a tourist, not a warrior.

Almost, but not quite. Such senses and habits are not easily broken, and even now those that strayed close or took pert interest received a quick, clinical glance of interrogation.

But nothing more. Mayhap she had soothed that side of him? Or mayhap Razkar had finally arrived in that place where he simply felt he had nothing left to prove to the barbarians.

"They say all great blades have a name... Is that immediate or should it come with time?"

Razkar smiled again and idly conjured a dozen, a score of fearsome names for the Svefra's odd but formidable new weapons. "Sea Storm". "Desolator of Dhani". "Bane of Yukmen". "Evil's Death". But the Svefra had a point and he took her hand as he spoke, entwining her hand in hers, both of them enjoying the walk eastward back to their lodgings.

"An Honored Elder among my people once said that weapons are named for their deeds, not for the intent of their wielder. You're right: get a few victories under your belt, and thus the name will be formed for you."

He touched the tattoo staring from his forehead in reverence... then moved his fingers to hr cheek.

"Myri lights the way for warriors, my love. How better to do that than in their arms?"