PM to join Accidental Nighttime Adventures (Cal)

[Alia Beaudouin]

An interesting answer from an interesting person.
Alia made note to draw less questions towards Calter’s race and more towards his personality. It seemed, from his facial expressions and tentative answer, that he didn’t like the spotlight much, especially when Alia was pushing it in his face.
It was strange, Alia was desperately curious, yet also terribly awkward. She wanted to be a good listener, yet had so many things to say. A jumble of nerves, yet overly confident. Sighing inaudibly, Alia listened to Cal’s question with plenty of attention, eager to play her part in this game they had created.

What are you?
Really, it was a question Alia asked herself often. The straight answer was easy, Inarta, but Alia knew if she got too far into the subject she would end up giving her entire life story away. Taking a few ticks to decide on what she would say, Alia answered quickly before taking a small bite of the fruit plate she had ordered.
”Yes, you’re right, I am Inartan. I am not, however, fully so. I have a human father and pure Inarta mother. Mixed blood, technically, though more Inarta than human… Ethnically, at least.”

Pausing for a moment to think about the second part of the question, Alia idly twisted the tiny jewels on her earrings. It was something she often did while thinking, or when nervous.
”Riverfall treats me very well, actually. From the obvious traits…” Alia indicated towards her hair. ”It’s pretty easy to tell, and that sparks curiosity in some. Definitely not as much as you would get, but it’s still there… Kind of.”

Stopping herself from launching further into the trainwreck of a sentence that she had started, Alia took another bite of the ripe fruit that had been delivered to her. Calters had ordered just a drink, it would seem, though Alia hoped something else was coming out. She certainly didn’t want to be the only one eating.

Letting the conversation dissipate into silence as the pair enjoyed their meal, Alia thought of a question for Calters. She had found interest in what little he had mentioned about his music career, especially the strangely named instrument he had said he played. Ocarina, it was called.
”So… My turn. How about… How did you learn to play an instrument? I remember you mentioning you played the ocarina.”

[Calters]

"Yes, the...ocarina. It is somewhat like a flute except for the round shape and mouthpiece. My father- named Jouyos- was a bard as well. He taught me the ocarina before he taught me to speak." A slight grin followed his small tangent.

His usually zealous speech on music and the art of playing an ocarina was disturbed by his own rampant thoughts. What does she mean, sparks curiosity? Of the intellectual nature? I doubt that. More likely of the sexual nature.

However curious he might be about the angle of others' curiosity, Calters dared not voice his question. He knew firsthand that most women did not appreciate such questions.

He watched her eat for a heartbeat, looking away quickly before he could get caught. He wanted to watch her- not because he wanted to love her- but because she was beautiful. Her beauty was that of the typical Inarta, so powerful that he could almost smell the winds of the mountains coming off of her if he closed his eyes. It was hard to explain, but he felt as if he could write a song using the power of her personal gales.

As the tune developed in his head, his fingertips tapped the tabletop in their own rhythm. He wanted nothing more than to run home and scribble the notes in his journal or to sing the song to himself and hear the lyrics form around the notes. He didn't want to leave the woman and he loved their game, but...

Some things were more important.

"Do you write your own music? Because I do, and I would love some feedback."

The perfect excuse to grab his journal and escape this conversational stalemate.

[Alia Beaudouin]

”Ah. I see we have something in common, then. My father taught me mandolin. He probably still has the tiny thing he used to teach me with; I grew out of it quickly, after several years it felt more like a violin than a mandolin, but he never threw it away. Never got me a new one.” Alia let out a laugh. ”I’d gotten used to playing on such a small instrument.”

It was nice to resonate on such happy memories, if only for a little bit. She hoped her father was still OK. She hadn’t heard anything of him since she had left Wind Reach, though that was to be expected. Her parents never were much of writers, and if Alia expected anything, she probably should have sent them a letter herself.
For some reason, though, something was stopping her from doing so. Stopping her from keeping in contact with her parents. What it was, she didn’t know. Nor, at this moment, did she care.

Letting her eyes wander from her food, Alia felt Calters’ eyes watching her. She didn’t look up, nevermind complain. With all the staring the oddly featured man got, it would be hypocritical to tell him off for staring a bit himself. After all, she must have been the closest he had gotten to another social spectacle- Someone who shared the same spotlight casted on them for physical differences, even if hers were only a fraction of what he must go through.

After several ticks of silence, the empty air between the two was filled by the soft tapping of Calter’s fingertips. Alia wondered what he was thinking. A lot must go through your head when you were faced with someone you barely knew, yet were sharing a meal with. She was surprised how reserved he was with his questions. She herself was bubbling with curiosity, anything from Cal’s past to how he had ended up out so late at night. Unfortunately, it was not her turn to ask, and besides, she didn’t want to come off as too eager. Or worse, rude.

After several more ticks of silence, Calters piped up, asking about her music. A perfect question, and an excuse to find a topic that could spark real conversation. She hated how stiff the two had been so far. Hopefully, this would be a more entertaining source of talk.
”Actually, yes, I write my own songs, stories, even poems sometimes. I’m not too terribly good at it, though.” Alia pushed around a berry on her plate before impaling it. She wished she had brought her journal- it would help spark some conversation, or at very least become a topic of interest. ”I haven’t written anything in a while, though. I don’t know why. I just haven’t been… Well, inspired. The upcoming season change might have something to do with it. She shrugged, ”I never liked fall. Too cold for swimming, too warm for snow. The imperfect middleground.”

Realizing she was getting off topic, Alia tried to turn the attention back to Cal. ”Why do you ask? Do you write your own work as well?”