Closed [The Patchwork Port] Docked for the Winter...

[Nyxie Nadira Draer]

1st Day of Winter, 513 AV




"Luv, we’ll all be dockin’ pretty soon. Why don’t ya git off the ship 'n roam about, eh? Go play wit Kai, er find sumthin' useful t' do. Me n' yer ol' papa'll be goin' to find me mate, Wharf, remember 'im? Aye, we've got a load o' werk t' do this winter. Well? What're ye waitin' fer? Git goin!"

Nyxie yawned and rolled her eyes before turning away from Uncle Maverick to stare at the view before her. She gripped the rails and leaned forward to catch the wind in her hair, squinting as the setting sun gleamed through the clouds in the evening sky. Looking down into the water, she felt a sudden strong urge. Nyxie climbed over the rails, took a deep breath, and dove in.

The shore wasn’t too far ahead; Nyxie could see the wooden dock about a mile away. She dove underwater and waved at the sharks surrounding her, swimming towards a bigger one with a small, blunt snout and a white tummy. Kai recognized her instantly and bumped her repeatedly in the stomach with his head. Nyxie gave him a quick kiss goodbye before swimming back up above the water.

It took her a few chimes to reach the coast. Her body ached; the exertion was far greater than normal. It’d been months since Nyxie was on land and she wanted to get there as quick as possible. She missed the feeling of wet sand between her toes when she walked along the shoreline, seeing the imprints of her feet left behind her, before the tides washed them away. Glancing around the area, Nyxie could tell that the port was busy as usual, with traders walking around and ships docking in for the night. She smiled at a stranger who looked at her oddly---having travelled with the same folks for so long made her happy to see unfamiliar faces. A shiver passed through her body, her wet clothes were making her cold. Nyxie needed to build a fire, and fast.

Gathering dry wood brought her peace and nostalgia; it was a familiar routine that she’d been doing on her own since she was 12, when her father had first taught her how. Every winter, Nyxie would be the one to set up camp before the rest of the pod joined her for a night of boisterous fun. They’d all come together around the bonfire that Nyxie built, telling stories and laughing and singing and dancing and staying up ‘til dawn~

They won’t come by until a few bells later, though. There’s paperwork to be done and cargo to unload. Nyxie has no business helping them out; being the only ‘child’ of the pod means that it isn’t her responsibility to worry about such things. One would think that an eighteen year old would be treated as more of an adult. Nyxie, however, has rarely ever proven her worth. Such thoughts were what occupied her mind as she lay by the fire, waiting for the others…

Maybe I could start a fishing business in Kenash, and then I can sell my catch here to the traders. Learning any other skill would also be quite helpful, actually. Weaving, cooking, glass making… the only things I’m good at are fishing and stealing. Maybe I could talk to a local and see if there are any jobs available; jobs that would allow me to stay by the coastline, that is. Sigh…

A season full of opportunities lies ahead for Nyxie. Will she ever find a purpose in life…?

[Tapestry]

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Dusk fell upon the water like a slow mist, the dying sun clinging to the horizon with gossamer arms of orange and red before finally sinking into the sea. As the cold washed across the shores into Alvadas, merchants and sailors both began to filter away either into the city or into their ships for shelter.

Nyxie was one of the few that remained, coaxing dim embers into life with driftwood. Shadows danced beyond her vision as the fire tore at the darkness that sought to envelop her. The cold of winter seemed to abate, retreating to the edge of the warm glow. Out on the water, Svefra ships drifted casually, closer to the bay and adjusting heading to account for the signal Nyxie lit. Even then, the wind was poor this evening and it would take some time for them to hit ground.

As she lay, watching the flames twist playfully with each other, a figure stepped out of the darkness from beyond the docks and took a seat at the edge of the fire.

He was a merchant, from the look of him, a swarthy dark complexion spoke of scorched lands and white-hot sun. He was wrapped in silks and patterned turban, rings glittering from his fingers. At his waist, a curiously curved sword sat in a jeweled scabbard. It bit into the sand as he took a seat. Despite the wrapping around his face, his age was apparent as fairly older. Wrinkles had carved their progress across his skin and stress cracked from the corners of his eyes.

Behind him, two other shapes loomed. Broader shoulders, hard eyes, and the ripple of muscle suggested the two men behind him were body guards of some kind. Out of respect or perhaps to mask their humanity in anonymity, they remained beyond the illuminating glare of fire-light. Present, but more shadows than people.

The merchant coughed, his eyes glittering, and offered a short bow of his head.

"Fair fire, sea-maiden," he rumbled, "Do you mind if I sit for a chime and smoke?"
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[Nyxie Nadira Draer]

Entranced by the flickering flames and absorbed in her musings, Nyxie hardly noticed the stranger taking a seat nearby. The air of serene silence was broken by the sound of a cough. Startled by the noise, Nyxie shivered slightly before her gaze landed on the old man sitting across from her.

"Fair fire, sea-maiden. Do you mind if I sit for a chime and smoke?"

Eyebrows furrowed as she tried to take in the strange turn of events. Nyxie felt apprehensive; she glanced at the dark shadows of men standing behind him. They were certainly there as guards for this ornately dressed, merchant-like fellow. She eyed the man's adorned sword with curiosity. Was he a Svefra? Nyxie couldn’t tell. His weathered eyes reflected the light of the fire.

A few ticks passed before Nyxie chose to answer with a smile,

“No, not at all. Stay for as long as you like, in fact. My pod will be here soon to join us; we’ll be hanging around for the night. The name’s Nyxie. Nyxie Nadira Draer.” She stuck her hand out for a firm shake. “Glad to have company, mate. And you are?”

Nyxie figured it would be smart to seem polite and self-assured. Her aura of confidence was only a façade to hide the fact that she was quite suspicious of this man’s intentions. Should this situation change for the worse, Nyxie had no one to protect her. Thus, it was best to let this man believe that she felt zero fear of him.

They better petchin’ hurry up and get here. I do hope this man isn’t dangerous. Better yet, I hope he can be of use to me. Oh please, Laviku, shield me from harm and guide me to fortune~~

[Tapestry]

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Without answering, the merchant produced a long pipe. Carved of simple wood the lacquer finish glinted as he stuffed the end with curious smelling herbs before dipping the pipe into the flames. It was only for a moment, enough for the top of the herbs to light in a furious, resilient glow. Withdrawing it and placing the narrow stem in his mouth, his chest billowed forward as he breathed in, held it, and then bellowed smoke out into the sea-sweet air. Never once did his eyes leave Nyxie.

After another puff of his pipe, he let the stem travel to the corner of his mouth, allowing speech. His voice was old and worn, beaten down by sun, sand, and sea. But there was a roughness there, the kind of grit that brought a man from homes far beyond to lands unseen, that pitted him against brine and stone to sell wares and make a living.

"Zavid," he introduced, "From the tents of Mekeb of the sons of Malech." He took another drag of his pipe and pursed his lips. When the smoke exited this time, it was in a neat ring that swept into the fire and was gone in an instant. He smiled at her and offered the pipe around the fire.

"Would you like a taste? Tobacco from Kenash, some of the best." If she chose not to take it, he would shrug and withdraw the pipe, slipping it back between his lips, "I will not take too much of your time, Nyxie of the Northaven, I was seeking a little warmth before I began my business." He paused, eyes glittering,

"I am looking for someone to deliver a package."
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[Nyxie Nadira Draer]

OOC: A Note about my Name :

The name change entailed a couple edits to the posts where I introduced myself---and also to how I've quoted your reply~

The old man took his time to answer her, as he produced a pipe similar to the one Nyxie had seen her uncle use frequently. His fixed gaze made her feel wary and self-conscious, making her wonder what this stranger sees in her. Nyxie had heard her father tell stories of people with strange powers from his travels. Could this man be capable of such things… could he be assessing the depths of her soul without her knowledge…? The wandering thought was interrupted with a gruff voice---

"Zavid, from the tents of Mekeb of the sons of Malech."

It was a familiar introduction. Nyxie knew at once that she was in the presence of a Benshiran. She’d met very few in her lifetime, but enough to recognize the biographical surname. He must’ve travelled a long way, then, for she knew that the home of the Benshiras was far from Alvadas. What business does this man have here…? Zarid smiled as he offered Nyxie his pipe,

"Would you like a taste? Tobacco from Kenash, some of the best."

Being conflicted, but also eager, Nyxie hesitated. Though she had asked them so many times in the past, both her father and uncle had never allowed her to smoke. They’d said she was too young to fall victim to the addiction. Nyxie, however, was always fascinated by the way the herb would alter their moods and perceptions, usually for the better. Thus, having the opportunity to finally experience it herself… her pod wouldn’t be here anytime soon, so they’d never know.

Nyxie nodded as she reached out to take the lacquered pipe from Zarid’s hand.

"I will not take too much of your time, Nyxie of the Draer, I was seeking a little warmth before I began my business."

As he spoke, Nyxie was careful not to inhale the smoke, and instead puffed it slowly in her mouth as a way of tasting it. She enjoyed the spicy, pleasant, full flavor; its complexity was unlike anything Nyxie had ever tried before. "Mmm. Thanks mate, this is gooood stuff." She broke into a small fit of coughs when she took a drag too quickly, revealing her lack of experience. Embarrassed, Nyxie smiled meekly as she held the pipe in the corner of her mouth---

"I am looking for someone to deliver a package."

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously. Intrigued, Nyxie decided to inquire,

“Hm, interesting. If you'd like, I’d be more than happy to help you, Zarid... but only for a small price.” She paused before giving him a teasing smile, “Would you be willing to trust a Ravka like myself?” She’d heard the term used by a Benshiran trader long before, and had favored it ever since. An amusing insult for a foreigner, they said.

This could be the chance Nyxie was looking for; the chance to go out on her own and seek an adventure. Zarid seemed to be kind enough… but would getting into his business be something Nyxie would regret…? Only time will tell.

[Tapestry]

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A low chuckle shook the paunchy Benshiran beneath his fine silks. Whether he was laughing at her experience with pipe smoke or her use of a familiar Benshiran term was unclear. A kind of crafty light had begun glittering in the depths of his sand-weathered gaze and he twisted his neck one way and the other, slight pops accompanying each movement.

"I do not need to trust you, Nyxie from house Draer...you act for the honor of your family rather than yourself." He looked her up and down, as if appraising her value, "After Alvadas, I will make port in Kenash. The Draer are friends of my business and I do not think they would take ill business with me well." He grinned, surprisingly white teeth set against the fire light glimmer.

He shifted where he sat, the loose sand shifting beneath him. "I will pay you for your services upon completion of the delivery, little Draer, and I assure you the price will be fair."

The fire hissed and spat, leaping shadows crawling along the tall men behind Zavid.

"First, we must shake, yes? Seal the agreement."

He held out a weathered hand around the fire to her. When she accepted the handshake, a rough, muscled grip enveloped her own. It was nothing like the soft palms of merchants she was used to. Zavid had other lives besides merchant, perhaps...rougher lives.

"Good. Good." he said, smiling, "Now let me tell you where to find your package...and where to deliver."

He brought both hands together in a single clap and one of the figures stepped to the firelight to hand a small box to Zavid. The merchant thanked the dark skinned bodyguard and opened the box, showing Nyxie a jade pendant nestled on a pillow of rich purple.

"There is a messenger you will find at the head of the docks," he started, tracing his finger along the piece of precious stone, "He will have a pendant like this tied to his belt." The pendant itself was carved flat with text Nyxie could not read. "He will have a black bag upon him, tied to his belt most-like. I need that black bag to be carefully taken from him without his knowledge...and for you to deliver it to a place in Alvadas called the Wretched Rumor. There you will find a man named Ravion Roma. He will be behind the bar, so you will not miss him. Give him the black bag. I trust you can keep your curiosity contained and not glance yourself?"
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[Nyxie Nadira Draer]

Nyxie kept the pipe between her lips, closed her eyes, and took another slow draw. She relished the calming sensation seeping through her mind, spirit, and body. As her hand caressed the bowl, the smooth wood seemed to caress her hand in return with its soothing warmth. Nyxie took the pipe out of her mouth and stared at it. The rich look of the thing, carved from nature, showing its beautiful grain, billowing its gentle smoke trails from the bowl, was a pleasing sight to behold. She became fixated on its power, its ability to bring her an incredible feeling of serenity. She must have it.

"I do not need to trust you, Nyxie from house Draer...you act for the honor of your family rather than yourself. After Alvadas, I will make port in Kenash. The Draer are friends of my business and I do not think they would take ill business with me well."

He knew her family? Nyxie nodded in respect, wondering why she’d never seen him around Kenash before. If he truly was a friend of The Draer, then she surely should’ve heard of him at least. Zarid knew that her family doesn’t take well to ill business… so then what reason would there be for not knowing this man? Had Nyxie fallen out of the loop…? Naturally, as hard as she tried to find out about everything that goes on within her family, Nyxie was still a tad naïve.

She shrugged off her doubts. Perhaps Zarid just happened to be someone she’d forgotten hearing about---

"I will pay you for your services upon completion of the delivery, little Draer, and I assure you the price will be fair."

Nyxie smirked at his slightly patronizing tone; she was used to it, of course. Nodding yet again, she refrained from making any snarky remarks. Contrary to her initial beliefs, Nyxie took a liking to this man’s demeanor. Well, it was obvious that her growing fondness was only due to the apparent advantages of her current situation.

"First, we must shake, yes? Seal the agreement."

Looking him in the eyes, Nyxie grinned, shaking his hand in acceptance. She winced a bit when his grip was harder than expected, quickly regaining her composure, noting this old man’s surprising strength.

“It’s a pleasure meeting ya, Zarid. I assure that you will not be disappointed.”

As she spoke, out came an extraordinary gemstone within a peculiar box. Nyxie’s eyes widened in awe, and stayed that way until Zarid finished speaking. How did he know that she was capable of carrying out such a task? She sat in shock for a moment, trying to piece together all that he was saying: ...a messenger... a black bag… the Wretched Rumor… Ravion Roma…

Nyxie shook her head, clearing her thoughts, before responding to his instructions,

“… You expect me to not question the contents of the bag, then? No matter. I trust that since you are friends with my family, your business upholds our ethos.” She smiled, then her gaze shifted to the side, her face showing a puzzled expression.

“Zarid, I suppose you know that this job shouldn’t be too difficult for me. However, the only problem here is that I’ve never been to the Wretched Rumor before… nor do I know where it is. I have heard of the place; my uncle spoke of a man he once knew, a man who never returned from the ‘Back Room’, apparently. I do believe I can avoid such trouble. Nonetheless, I need directions.”

[Tapestry]

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Zavid nodded and snapped the case shut in front of her, cutting off the blaze of the flame from its loving caress of the jewel. "You have heard more than most, then. Ravion Roma has always run the Wretched Rumor, and the Back Room is where he takes his most troublesome patrons." He held the box back up to the bodyguard, who retrieved it and stepped back into the shadows.

"A curious messenger can spell bad business," the Benshiran quoted, lifting an eyebrow at Nyxie, "Trust that you will be well paid for the trouble you go through. I may even feel generous enough to waive you passage home...if your destination is on the Kenash shores...but if you seek answers when you are paid for discretion, you may find yourself in more trouble than you began."

He drew the blade at his side, curved alive with the light of the fire. The hilt was clustered with jewels that spoke of faraway lands, of wealth, of power. He spoke a few words in a tongue she did not understand and another of the bodyguards stepped out to kneel beside the merchant.

Zavid indicated she should approach and held out the blade to her.

"There are no directions in the city of Alvadas. Instead you will cut my servant on his arm. The Wretched Rumor can only be found by those who spill blood. You will cut my man and seek the place I have asked you to...you may find it easier to find than you think."

His eyes shined mischievously as he held out the well made blade.

"Come, come, little Draer," He coaxed her, "Surely your family has taught you to get your hands dirty."
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[Nyxie Nadira Draer]

OOC :

Sorry for the wait; the holidays were quite draining -_- Here’s to a brand New Year filled with extravagant adventures!

Nyxie listened to Zarid carefully, noting how calm she felt even though she knew that things were about to get a little problematic. Not being able to satiate her curiosity was surely going to drive her insane; but the promise of fortune was enough to make her willing to oblige.

The unseemly calmness she felt was certainly due to the object she held in her hand. Her fingers wrapped strategically around the pipe before she stretched her arms out as she yawned. Nyxie didn’t realize what she was doing before it was too late to undo; it was an absentminded method that she’d done almost subconsciously. She was now leaning back on her hands, the pipe tucked safely behind her, underneath the clothes she wore. If Zarid should ask for it back, it’d be simple to just hand it over while feigning forgetfulness. For now, Nyxie took her chances on his apparent oblivion.

Jewels gleamed from the light of the fire, catching Nyxie’s attention--- “There are no directions in the city of Alvadas”

Nyxie smirked as she approached the old man holding out his blade. Of course she knew that there weren’t actual directions in the city; it was the very reason why she barely ever left the port. As much as she enjoyed the stories of its craziness, Nyxie had rarely been given permission to experience it herself. Her father didn’t feel comfortable letting his daughter roam about in a city that wasn’t the one she’d grew up in; there were unfamiliar dangers out there. Dangers that could quite possibly be the death of her, if she wasn’t careful enough...

“Instead you will cut my servant on his arm,”

Nyxie gasped; the sharp intake of breath resulted in yet another a fit of coughs. She struggled to comprehend what Zarid was saying to her. ‘Cut his arm’? ‘Spill blood’? Surely this man was kidding. Her mind started racing…did this mean Uncle Maverick had once… Nyxie couldn’t bear to finish the thought. Her nervous gaze shifted to Zarid’s servant. She never intentionally injured anyone before, nor had she ever thought she would need to. Glaring at Zarid, Nyxie took a step back. She couldn’t possibly go through with this… could she?

The blade was held out to her, with a tempting promise of incredible possibilities. She couldn’t keep stalling. This was it. This was the moment that would define Nyxie’s fate---will she choose to stick to her simple, uncomplicated way of living? Or will she decide to take a leap of faith on this stranger’s undertaking?

“Come, come, little Draer. Surely your family has taught you to get your hands dirty.”

Nyxie let a sly smile slip away from her restraint. There was no turning back now.

Holding the servant’s wrist with her left hand, she smoothed his forearm with her right. There were no words she could come up with to console him; Nyxie looked into his sullen eyes and felt a lump in her throat. She took the blade and gripped the hilt, realizing that it wasn’t the servant who would need consoling.

Look, he’s not asking you to chop his whole arm off. A small cut shouldn’t do the man too much harm; all I need is a bit of blood to spill. Stop making this a bigger deal than it is. Just do it, Nyxie---

A swift swipe of the blade made a faint incision through the servant’s skin. Blood started to trickle out of the wound. Nyxie let go of his arm and held out the blade for Zarid to take back. She solemnly stood in front of him, hoping the cut was enough to satisfy him.

“There. I suppose I should now be able to find the Wretched Rumor. The messenger you speak of; will he be at the head of the docks at this hour? Or should I set out on the morrow?”

[Tapestry]

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The servant drew in a harsh breath, the only indication that the blade had caused him any pain. True to his training, however, he held it there till she had finished and the merchant waved the servant away. The large man stepped back into the shadows, cradling the arm, watching Nyxie with neither rage nor accusation.

"That should be all," Zavid said to himself, making himself comfortable on the sand, "The messenger should be at the head of the dock within a bell, maybe less...so I would hurry little Draer, while Tanroa is still on your side." He grinned, something predatory in the sheen and then held out a hand to the girl, "I should like my pipe back now, if you don't mind. It was carved by my father, you see...something of importance should never be allowed to stick to a thief's fingers."

When she handed it back to him, he knocked out the old ash into the open flame and stowed the pipe on his person, vanishing into the folds of his luxurious outfit.

"Remember all I have told you and be silent. Be quick. Stop for no one and ensure the package is delivered. Ravion will give you something to return to me, my payment in all this. Know...that if you swindle from me, I will ensure that you never return home." He let it hang there, not so much a threat as a casual promise.

"Thank you for the fire...the cold sometimes seeps into Alvadas, you see, and it was pleasant to escape if, even for a few moments."
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