Closed Frame of Mind (Alea)

[Verin Rush]

53rd Day of Winter, 513AV Verin smiled as he made his way along one of the canal pathways towards the Nitrozian Estate. He could have taken a ravosala and arrived in about half the time, but h e was in a good mood today and had decided to take a leisurely walk, taking advantage of the fine weather that Rhysol granted them this day. The winter season was colder than the others, as was to be expected, but Rhysol’s hold over his city was strong, and the weather remained temperate, and mild enough for the citizens of the city to enjoy being outside without too much discomfort. It wasn’t a particularly long walk anyway; Verin was making his way to the Plaza straight from his work at the Malt House, and his walk was only half a bell or so. Turning down one pathway, he reached a dead end and scowled to himself; even though he had lived in the city all of his life, he didn’t know every pathway and route to get to certain places. Such had been clear to Verin following the disastrous execution of the Rising Dawn members, when he had tried to tail the escaping murderer; at many points, he did not know of the pest route to take. “I must get myself a map and study it…” he made a mental note to himself as he turned back around and then turned right, continuing to follow the canal. “Any member of the Black Sun worth their salt will know Ravok like the back of his hand” That he had yet to be accepted into their ranks, at his age, was distressing, to say the least. His mind turned away from those frustrating thoughts, however, and on to his current commission. A grandson of Nitrozian apparently had an unruly slave, and it was Verin’s task to try to tame the wench. The idea amused him; he had only met Valerius Nitrozian briefly; when he had sliced his hand open upon a blade. It had been a humiliating affair, and he had been grateful for the other’s professionalism. Verin was no expert in the art of Hypnotism, yet, though he had already partially returned the favour to Valerius in his research centre, he was willing to perform a second. The favour of a Nitrozian was not something he would scorn lightly. He reached the Estate and glanced around. According to the message he had received, the slave, who had been less than appropriate two days previously, was to meet him here. He hadn’t been told what the slave thought was about to occur, only that she didn’t think he would be attempting to hypnotise her; “I must remember to ask her.” He reminded himself quietly as he leant against one of the interior walls patiently.

[Alea Davenport]

Alea was, to put it mildly, upset. Two days ago she had been involved in, to hear Valerius speak of it, the biggest and most undignified brawl Ravok had ever seen. (Alea had a hard time believing that, but if Valerius was anything to go by, well, maybe there was something to it). In any case, apparently getting involved in something that fun qualified as "embarrassing" him, which he'd specifically asked her not to do the first day they met. Well that was just great, how was she supposed to know every little thing that was going to bother him?

Her frustrations led her to kick at the baseboard as she walked down the hall away from Valerious's room. He had just told her that she was going to be required to do some "rehabilitation", since whipping her was apparently ineffective. She slammed the side of her fist against the wall. This was just like what happened in the Spires. She was "too violent", and the other citizens couldn't handle it, and now they had to "fix" her. It wasn't fair.

Apparently Valerius had summoned someone to work with Alea, which she assumed meant more "meditation training" like they'd tried to do with the Spires. That had been cut short when certain experiences she'd rather not remember too hard caused her to flee the city on the flimsiest excuse she could find. It wasn't that she couldn't face what had happened, she just...needed some space.

But apparently space wasn't enough. She still couldn't resist running headfirst into a fist-fight. She didn't even really seriously hurt anyone this time, and everyone else was doing it!

Alea sighed. There was no point arguing with her own head about it. Valerius has already made his decision. She went to the foyer to meet whoever was supposed to be "helping" her. When she got there though, she looked at him in surprise. "Venser! What are you doing here?" She was not entirely sorry to see the man she'd saved from drowning, but surely he couldn't be the one who was supposed to teach her to be less violent?

[Verin Rush]

The blond frowned as he head someone calling out to him, though by his brother’s name, In his twenty three years, he had become accustomed to responding to both names and the same was true for Venser. Growing up, Verin would often trade places with his brother, to allow the younger more time to recover from their father’s wrath. As the patriarch’s scion, Verin himself would never be harmed, only the bastard who killed his mother. Since then, casual acquaintances, and even friends, of the brothers, would mix the pair up, so his brother’s name was a second name to him. He glanced over to meet the eyes of the girl who had addressed him. From there, his gaze drifted south, trailing over her body until he found what he was hoping to see; the half-sun tattoo, resting plain and obvious on the back of her hand. She was a slave, possibly the slave that he was looking to meet. From the look on the slave’s face, the two were, at the very least, amicable, which, Verin decided, could work to his advantage. Valerius had asked for Verin, but Amolina clearly didn’t know that, and if he could pretend to be his brother, he would save time in building up a rapport with the girl; trust was crucial. Glad, at least, that he had received the slave’s name in his message, he could try to pull this off as his brother. “Hello,” the frown disappeared and was replaced by a smile in greeting as he pushed himself away from the wall upon which he had been resting. “Valerius Nitrozian asked me to be here. Apparently he has an… unruly slave.” Verin didn’t know if his brother knew what the girl he met was or, if he did know, if he knew who she belonged to, so he played it safe, knowing that he was looking for a slave called Alea. If this was her, then he had her name ready to go and could continue with the charade. If not, he would ask Venser’s friend where Alea was and revert to being himself upon meeting the unknown. He hoped it was this girl, however; she herself had called him Venser, she was obviously either unaware of the existence of a twin – and Verin knew this could be the case, as she was new to the city – or she was sure that she was talking to the twin she knew. Verin would use this to his advantage; the embarrassment of needing ‘help’ from someone she considered a friend, perhaps, would be a powerful tool for him.

[Alea Davenport]

Alea gave the man she thought was Venser a sardonic smirk, barely suppressing a laugh. "And, what, he thought a man who can't swim would somehow be able to help?" She shook her head, the sight of her friend somewhat dispelling her dark attitude. "So how have you been? Fallen in any canals lately?" As he answered her greeting though, her mind began to connect certain facts, which only led to more questions, and a faint sense of disappointment, and, was that...betrayal?

"So, wait, you're actually here about that fight I was in a couple days ago? What, do you think I should stay out of 'trouble' too?" she spoke this last part belligerently, not nearly as surprised as she wanted to be that her recent friend shared the opinion of almost everyone else Alea had ever met. She might have attributed the attitude to Ravokian squeamishness, except that the Jamoura of the Spires had also disapproved of her violent tendencies. It was so unfair, in Denval, she had not been enough of a soldier, but as soon as she left home and began to develop a sense of warrior's pride, everyone around her wanted her to stop. It seemed that, no matter where she went, she could never belong.

She wanted to deny them, to defiantly headbutt anyone who tried to tell her to stop fighting. But there were too many hints that they were right. Too many times, she'd almost seriously hurt someone, and it was hard to believe in herself when everyone she met told her she was wrong. Under all that pressure, there was little else Alea could do but sigh, and accept the judgement the Jamoura had given her a year ago. "So, what, you want me to meditate my anger away, so I stop attacking people? You really think that would work?" It was almost heartbreaking, how much the abject resignation emptied her voice.

[Verin Rush]

Verin was careful to maintain a passive expression as he listened to Alea – he did not want to give away what he did and didn’t know, lest the slave work out that he wasn’t who he was pretending to be. Luckily, he had the natural advantage of identical features and similar intonation; he’d been his brother enough times growing up, though. Their different vocal patterns were easier to master than his mannerisms, which had taken years. Fighting to raise a brow at the mention of how Alea and Venser had met, he mentally scowls at his brother’s foolishness; he lived in a lake, one couldn’t move for the sheer amount of water around here, and his ability at swimming left something to be desired. “Idiot. If his magic doesn’t kill him, the water surely will.” He waited until she was finished to finally speak, noting from her question that this was clearly the slave he had come to see. From the way she spoke, Venser clearly had a positive relationship with the girl, at least there seemed to me no malice between them, so he smiled sheepishly in response. “No, I’ve been trying to avoid canals..” He said softly as he scratched at the back of his neck, “Thanks again, for that, Alea.” Verin wasn’t really sure what the outcome had been, but he could guess; the slave didn’t seem entirely heartless, and Venser would have surely needed some help, seeing as he had returned home that night in a lesser state than when he had left. The elder twin wondered how well the slave knew his brother. Even though enough time had passed, it couldn’t be that well; she couldn’t spot the difference between her friend and his brother, even though there were enough differences for people to tell them apart. This made it a little easier for Verin; he did not have to think too strongly about how Venser would react to this girl… as she would likely not know the difference. He nods slowly, “Yeah…” He asked, “Valerius Nitrozian asked me to see if I could… talk to a slave of his. I never guessed it would be you, though.” He continued to play the friend. From the slave’s expression, it wasn’t hard to tell that she felt hurt, possibly even betrayed, by the notion that Venser was here to “deal” with her. Verin had heard about the brawl – much of the city had. He wondered why a slave would want to become involved, especially a Nitrozian slave, who had a name to uphold. And a female, at that. Such places were no place for the fairer sex, but he kept his misogynistic thoughts to himself as he eventually said, “This isn’t really the best place to discuss why I’m here,” he gestures to the various others milling about, “Is there anywhere we can go to talk in private?”

[Alea Davenport]

Wordlessly, Alea looked at him with the doleful expression of cattle that knows it's about to be butchered. Tossing her head in a direction that indicated he should follow, she led him through the halls (using servants' paths mostly) to her own room off one side of Valerius'. It was here they were least likely to be disturbed, and however much Alea might want to be distracted right now, she knew that for meditation you needed peace and quiet. And grapes, apparently, but she wasn't sure how to get those from here, so they would have to do without.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Alea burst into tears. She didn't mean to, and was slightly mortified that she was crying over feelings that were, in the grand scheme of things, rather pointless. But if she tried to figure out why she was crying, she just kept coming back to how nothing she ever did was good enough for anybody, and that just made her want to cry more. Then she tried taking her mind off it. Which led to more punching of walls. She gave the walls a couple of good bruises before her hands started hurting more than her heart. She sniffled, wiping a few tears away, accidentally streaking knuckle blood on her face as well.

"Well, what are you waiting for," she said sulkily, barely suppressing a sob. "You're here to 'fix' me, right?"